Jeremiah 31:1-14
I found this poem about leftovers by Rachel Howells. This is how the poem reads:
The leftovers waited patiently,
In the fridge for their turn.
They did not harbor resentment,
Nor was their banishment of concern.
Except for the Brussels sprouts,
Who were filled with worry and doubt.
They knew they emitted a terrible stench,
Like rotten eggs and old sauerkraut.
But as the leftovers leisurely gossiped
In the crisp freon atmosphere,
Brussels foresaw a hopeless destiny
"We're never getting out of here!"
Brussels had been overcooked,
And gave off a rancid smell.
They would be the only leftover
The gluttons would repel.
The other leftovers humored Brussels,
While furtively rolling their esculent eyes.
Then just as predicted they heard muffled voices,
"You get the turkey, I'll get the pies."
They could hear dishes clanging,
And the fridge door slowly creaking,
With a flood of light the gluttons had arrived,
Whispering and sneaking.
All the leftovers were piled onto plates,
And then happily microwaved.
Except for the Brussels sprouts,
Left in the fridge to rot as they ranted and raved. (by Rachel Howells)
So I ask you: What about the brussels sprouts? What about the leftover brussels sprouts? The best solution to the problem would have been not to cook the things in the first place. They are not worth it, either cooking them or warming them up as leftovers.
A decision has to be made, though. They’re in there. Those round, army green colored things are in the refrigerator. Even the container they are in is not enough to keep their “rancid smell” from escaping and affecting the entire contents of the refrigerator’s cold storage. Something will have to be done with them. They can’t be allowed to just sit there and continue to affect all the other, more desirable leftovers. Either eat the things or throw them out.
With poetry, there is usually more going on than just the basic images. Is this clever and witty poem just about brussels sprouts being passed over for the more desirable turkey and pies? Is it just about leftover food consumed by the “gluttons” who open the refrigerator door?
I see a deeper level stirring in this poem. It is a poem not just about the vegetables but also about the people we choose. It’s a poem about the people we don’t choose--the leftovers of the leftovers. They are the people who have been “overcooked” by life. They are the people that even other leftover types roll their “esculent eyes” at. (“Esculent” means edible; that they are desirable to be eaten, whereas the brussels sprouts are not esculent--not only inedible, but they don't even LOOK edible.) The brussels sprout people whom we barely tolerate. The people who feel like they’re left to rot.
What about the brussels sprouts? What about the Israelites feeling like leftovers in the Babylonian refrigerators? What about the Israelites exiled to the back and bottom shelf of the world? When will someone--God?--open the door, turn on the light, and look for them?
Their time is about to come. God has opened the door. God isn’t looking for the turkey. God isn’t looking for the pie. God isn’t looking for the beautiful people that everyone wants to be around. God is looking for the brussels sprouts. It’s time to end their exile on the lower, back shelf.
It’s been 70 years since the exile began. 70 years. Cyrus the Persian has conquered and taken over the Babylonian Empire. It’s no longer the Babylonian’s refrigerator. It’s come under new ownership. It’s time to clean it out. Cyrus issued an edict that all slaves and captives are now free to return to their homeland.
But it’s been 70 years. If you were 18 when the Babylonian exile and captivity began, that means you are now 88 years old. Will you go back?
At least two new generations have been born into the world since 587 BC. For the most part, the children and grandchildren of the exiles have grown up and raised families of their own. They have become amalgamated into the Babylonian culture.
Calvin Trillin once said, “The most remarkable thing about my mother is that for thirty years she served the family nothing but leftovers. The original meal has never been found.” And the original exiles may be all but gone. What remains are a lot of leftovers who have only heard stories of a land told about in old stories. Would these children and grandchildren go back to a land and a way of being that they have no connection to? Would they take the chance to discover the “original meal” from whence they came?
How many, after 70 years, would take the opportunity given them by Cyrus and go to Israel? Not many. God calls them the remnant (vs. 7).
A remnant is a leftover, a fragment, a scrap. Most everyone took Jeremiah’s advice from his letter, built homes, planted gardens, and started families, intermarrying with Babylonian people. Given the opportunity to go back to Israel, most said, “No.” And it’s not that they were even “going back.” They had never come from there in the first place. The only home these second and third generation exiles knew was Babylon.
But there was a remnant who went back. The scraps. The leftover people. Listen how they are described:
...I will bring them from the north country,
and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth,
among them the blind and the lame,
the woman with child
and her who is in travail together. (verse 8)
Not only are these the remnants. These are the brussels sprouts. They are the helpless, the hopeless, and the scoundrels; the infidels, the enemy.
The “north country” was the direction from which invading armies came. Nothing good came from the north, when you read the Old Testament history of invasions. All dreaded enemies came from the north country. But these are the ones God is using as a remnant to rebuild the people.
There is no more powerful image for being vulnerable than the image of a pregnant woman. Or a woman in the process of giving birth. But it is these most vulnerable brussels sprouts people whom God will use as the chosen remnant.
Blind people. The lame. If someone had a physical affliction or disability like blindness or being crippled, that person was considered cursed and under the judgement of God. They had supposedly done something terrible to offend God, so God afflicted them. But these are the ones God says will be his remnant--his scraps, his leftovers. And by being God’s remnant, they will be the foundation of God’s grand rebuilding project in Israel.
What can you make out of remnants and leftovers? I ordered a cookbook a few months ago titled, The Pleasures Of Cooking For One. It was put together by Judith Jones, who was the editor for all of Julia Child’s cookbooks. What is unique, and what I love about this cookbook is that Judith Jones shows how to morph one meal into another entirely different meal using your leftovers.
When I was up in Kansas City last week we had meat loaf night. Ryan, Amanda and I made a couple of different kinds of meatloaf. Then we had all kinds of side dishes to go with them. It was fantastic. So we had two kinds of leftover meatloaf. What to do rather than just reheat a slab, or make a sandwich? I turned to Judith Jones cookbook. She suggested making stuffed eggplant or stuffed peppers with left over meatloaf. Which is what I did. We used a piece of the sauerkraut stuffed pork meatloaf in this amazing recipe for stuffed peppers (since I don’t like eggplant). It was great! Leftovers, totally transformed into an entirely new meal.
Fabric remnants can be remade into a beautiful quilt. I’ve even seen some of the most extraordinary quilts made out of old ties and old t-shirts. I like what Thomas Fuller once said, “Leftovers in their less visible form are called memories. Stored in the refrigerator of the mind and the cupboard of the heart.” We take these leftovers all full of memories of their own, and turn them into an entirely new memory.
As with these kinds of remnants, it isn’t the remnants themselves. It isn’t about them as much as it is about the creativity of the cook and the seamstress. It is more about the mind and hands of the one into whom the remnants, leftovers, and scraps find themselves.
This is what we learn about God in this 31st chapter of Jeremiah. God uses the scraps, the brussels sprouts if you will, no matter how stinky and beleaguered they appear. Then by adding a few more ingredients, those remnants and leftovers are transformed. Think of the brussels sprouts people that God took back to Israel and made a whole new nation. Think of Jesus and the Last Supper, taking the leftovers from the Seder Supper and transforming them into Holy Communion.
And think of personal tragedy. In remnant theology and thinking, the question isn’t: “What all have I lost?” The more authentic question is, “What do I have left?”
Then, once you’ve ascertained the answer to that question, the next and more important question is, “Placed in God’s hands, what can these leftovers, this remnant be transformed into?” Your remnant may not look like much. Maybe like brussels sprouts that have been in the refrigerator too long. Maybe like blindness, lameness, and pregnant vulnerability. But remember, it’s not about the remnant/leftovers, how little or lame it appears to be. It is about the creative God who takes whatever that is and transforms it totally.
The artist, Pablo Picasso once said of his craft: “The artist is a receptacle for the emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web.” God, as the ultimate artist, sculptor, chef, quilter can take any of your disparate remnants and create beauty.
Look at the list of remnants that God takes and transforms in this chapter:
--From the remnant of collapsed buildings and lives, God says, “You shall be built.”
--From the remnant of faithless whoredom, God says, “You shall be virgin Israel.”
--From the remnant of nakedness, God says, “You shall adorn yourself.”
--From the remnant of depression, God says, “You shall go forth in dance.”
--From the remnant of weeds and thistles, God says, “You shall plant vineyards.”
--From the remnant of thirst and desert dryness, God says, “I will make you walk by brooks of water.”
What about the brussels sprouts? Can God take your stinky, overcooked brussels sprouts, tucked away in some unseen corner of your refrigerated life and make something new with them? What do those brussels sprouts represent for you? What leftover part of your life have you overcooked? What remnant part of your life stinks? What scarp of your life would you rather just throw away?
Would you be willing to give those leftovers/remnants/scraps over to God? Again, remember, it’s not about the leftover (what it is, how it stinks, how small it might be, how long it’s been) that matters. It’s about God, and how God can transform whatever your remnant is. Will you put it in God’s hands?
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