Gems in Tupperware

Sermon: Paul writes about cheap, disposable containers ...
and the perfection of God they contain.

2024-36 sermon
preached at Church of the Good Shepherd, Federal Way, WA www.goodshepherdfw.org
by the Rev. Josh Hosler, Rector
Second Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 4B), June 2, 2024
Deuteronomy 5:12-15 ; Psalm 81:1-10 ; 2 Corinthians 4:5-12 ; Mark 2:23-3:6

Every time I buy lunchmeat, it comes home from the grocery store in a new, reusable Tupperware container. When we’ve finished the meat, the container goes into the dishwasher and then the pantry. So at the bottom of our pantry is a bin full of Tupperware—a bin too small to contain all that has collected there, so it spills out onto the floor when we open the door. Maybe someday we’ll purge it, but that’s clearly a low priority for us.

I think the church is like a kitchen full of Tupperware—in the pantry, in the fridge, in the dishwasher. Some of it is resting and waiting to be used again. Some of it is holding food to be reheated later. Some of it is in the process of being washed and dried. Some of it has gotten worn out and doesn’t hold its seal anymore.

And in this church full of Tupperware, you’ll find the most amazing things. Because this Tupperware holds not perishable food, but gemstones: garnets, amethysts, pearls. Lapis lazuli and peridot. Rose quartz and sapphires and opals and jasper and even diamonds.

There is so much treasure here. But how could you tell? It’s all being kept in Tupperware.

OK, where is he going with this, right?

They didn’t have Tupperware in the first century, but they did have clay jars: containers that eventually wear out. When Paul writes to the Corinthians about “treasure in clay jars,” he’s talking about human beings. God’s perfection can be found within imperfect creatures that eventually fall apart. Is it careless of God to put gems in Tupperware? Or is this part of the genius of God?

The clay jars that Paul speaks of were not typically repaired when damaged; they were thrown away because they were cheap. The same goes for Tupperware. But here’s where the metaphor breaks down, because humans, despite any evidence to the contrary, are not cheap and disposable. Humans wear out—yet we can be repaired. Humans die—yet we are eternal, and through Christ, we are resurrected into eternal life. In the meantime, life is hard work, and we all find ourselves in need of rest and renewal.

Today’s other readings are about the command to the people of Israel to keep sabbath. It’s one of the Ten Commandments, and it’s reiterated in Deuteronomy, which was written centuries later during a time of significant reform. Since God rested on the seventh day, we hear, we also are to rest one day per week. All of us. Yes, all—from the king all the way down to the enslaved people, and even foreigners living among us. Everybody gets a day off. Because God knows we need it.

Has any of the Ten Commandments been so frequently broken? Indeed, those who insist the Ten Commandments should be installed on courthouse lawns might do well to read them sometime and take another glance at their employment practices.

What if we all kept sabbath as a society? We wouldn’t expect any business to be open seven days a week. We would be content with our own businesses being closed one day a week—we would just do without the profits we could have gained on that day. When Christianity was more of the assumed norm in the United States, it was a little more like that. We still don’t have open banks or federal mail delivery on Sundays.

But it was never like this for everyone. It’s always been the case that some people have to work seven days a week. The woman who cuts my hair is stuck in this reality. She can’t pay rent on the building that houses her business unless she makes as much money as humanly possible. She can’t afford to hire helpers. So she is the business, and literally every day, she’s cutting hair. This is fundamentally unjust. I tip her very well, but I remain concerned about how she’s doing in the long run. She always says, “It’s fine! I like to work.” But I can tell it is wearing her out.

We don’t and we can’t keep sabbath as a society—not the way we currently construct it. We’re too insistent on the pipe dream of perpetual economic growth, and that fantasy falls on the backs of the hardworking poor and middle-class. Many small business owners feel they can never afford a sabbath. And many other people find they must work two or even three jobs to make ends meet. There’s rarely a sabbath for them, either—and when there is, it’s because they couldn’t get enough hours, or they lost a job, or they had to stay home with a sick child and surrender part of their pay. A sabbath accompanied by worry is not a sabbath. The situation is terrible for the well-being of our society.

Now, for Jews, the sabbath is still Saturday, the final day of the week. The weekly service of Shabbat takes place Friday night at sundown, the beginning of the new day in Jewish tradition. In Christian history, in many places and times, Sunday has been kept as a sabbath, though ironically, clergy have never been able to adhere to this practice! My own declared sabbath is Friday. I don’t reply to your texts, emails, or voice mails on that day unless it’s an emergency.

Now, I am not consistent in the observance of my own sabbath. I have access to all of this on my phone, so when a message comes in, I get a notification. Often I can’t resist peeking. But when I do peek, I’ve stuck myself with the burden of deciding whether to reply right away, or wait until the next day. And then, boom, I’m back at work, because I’m thinking about work.

Truly keeping sabbath is an ongoing learning for me. It means trusting that I’m not as needed as I think I am. I’m just a parish priest, after all, and this community is full of highly skilled lay people who see to the vast majority of the church’s needs from day to day. Ideally, we all get to rest from that work as well.

Pope John XXIII once said that he concluded his prayers the same way every night: “Well, I did my best. It's your Church, God, so I'm going to bed now.” The pope! He knew he needed rest, and he took it. We all want to be needed, of course, but I also need my rest. And I think there’s something here about Paul’s insistence that “we do not proclaim ourselves.”

Even so, the sabbath has its necessary exceptions. I have chosen to allow for funerals on Fridays, because it’s difficult to schedule them on weekends. I often make exceptions for other reasons as well. As Jesus says to the Pharisees, we don’t get to use the sabbath as an excuse to avoid doing good.

When I do need to work on Fridays—and I have quite a bit lately—I try to remember to take other time off. I track my own work hours in a spreadsheet so I can see when I’m overdoing it. And now that Sarah is home from college, I will cash in some of that extra time. I’ll be out of town this week from Wednesday through Saturday as our family goes to Eastern Washington to tour some geological sites. I will do less work than usual this week. And that will be OK.

Not all vacation time is the same, either. Sometimes it’s great just to lie on the couch, but I tend to be more of a do-er. I will take the final week of June off as vacation time so that I can serve as chaplain at the annual Royal School of Church Music camp in Tacoma. Kids from church choirs in many states will gather at the University of Puget Sound for some intensive singing, and I’m excited to be with them, to lead Evensong, to preach and teach, and of course, to sing in the choir. This may sound like work to you, but I’m happy to call it vacation time because it will feed my soul.

We all need weekly rest. We all need vacations. Without these times, we wear ourselves out like Tupperware. If we’re going to hold God’s treasure in us, we need renewal. And beginning after Christmas Eve, I’m going to take a sabbatical for four months.

This isn’t news to most of you; preparations are well under way. When I became your rector in 2018, my Letter of Agreement stated that I was entitled to a sabbatical lasting three to six months after my first five years. Now it’s been six years, and I’m going for it. Why now? Because we’ve come out the other side of a pandemic, and frankly, I’m exhausted.

I know how I get when I need more rest. I can get snippy and exacting. I can get too wedded to the outcomes I most want instead of listening for what the Holy Spirit might have in mind. I can identify times just in the past week when I’ve acted in ways that may not have been the most helpful. So I intend to use my sabbatical well: to rest, to recharge, and to explore possibilities I don’t usually have time for. More about that later.

Most of all, I’m hopeful that my time away, from Christmas season through the Day of Easter 2025, will be good for Good Shepherd. Yes, really! Clergy who take sabbaticals do their congregations a big favor: the opportunity to explore their identity apart from the rector. We’ll have a priest here on contract to fill in for me—more news about that later as well. And if there are ways that I customarily get in my own way and in the way of the congregation—because of my own growing edges—well, this will be a time for those to come clear through my absence. And it’s work I’ll be dealing with on my own time as well. One thing I can promise you: I will definitely return from my sabbatical, tell you all about it, and continue to be your priest!



Every one of us carries within us the gem of our God-createdness. Is it careless of God to put gems in Tupperware? Or is this a genius move? Jesus tells us that the Sabbath was made as a tool for our benefit; we were not made to worship the Sabbath. We are commanded to rest, but as communities and cultures, we get to construct the ways we rest. So how can the Church of the Good Shepherd help you take care of your Tupperware? And how can Good Shepherd open up opportunities for rest for those who rarely get enough?