Day 2: Hiddenness

Last session, we laid the foundation of what service is: loving others by meeting practical needs. Today, we talk about the way we go about serving the people we serve: hiddenness.

Jesus served among the sick, poor, and oppressed. But his most demonstrative act and invitation to service came at his own dinner table, among his everyday company. On his final night, between courses at Passover dinner, Jesus got down on his knees and washed his disciples’ feet. Culturally speaking, there was no more menial, humiliating labor than foot washing.

Then he says, "I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” (John 13v15, NIV)

Jesus washed the feet of his closest followers at his own dinner table among his tight-knit, everyday relationships. And that upends the most common of misconceptions: that service is something I do away from my close relationships and outside of my ordinary rhythms.

And that means, for most of us, the practice of service will not begin by choosing a new environment to serve a marginalized people but choosing — actively choosing — a current environment to serve familiar people (think: roommates, siblings, co-workers, friends, spouse, or kids).

This week’s exercise is: one hidden act of service. It’s the same as last week, only this time around, serve in a way that wins you nothing in front of others.

Maybe you’re thinking, “Wait a minute, doesn’t Jesus tell us, in the Sermon on the Mount, to ‘Let our light shine before others that they may see our good deeds and glorify God?’” So sure, there are times when we should serve in ways that are visible to the world. However, Jesus also teaches, in the very same sermon, that service is one spiritual practice we are uniquely susceptible to doing with impure motives. It’s absolutely essential, then, that at least some of our service be done in hiddenness.

In Matthew 6, Jesus says: “So when you give to the needy …” (Matthew 6v2, NIV)

The English “give to the needy” is eleémosuné in Matthew’s Greek, a very important word but slippery to translate into English. Because it’s not just giving your money, but your resources, your time, your life — stewarding all you’ve been given freely on behalf of others. It includes generosity, but it’s broader. Closer to what we call service.

“So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets …” (Matthew 6v2, NIV)

The giving box in the Jewish Temple was made out of a Ram’s horn. You could quietly place a few coins in the giving box. But you could also toss them in and announce your arrival with — ting, ting, ting — and that was the preferred entrance, especially of the big givers.

Don’t we still do this in our own ways? Big donations come with perks and public recognition, or we find ways to weave our virtuous deeds into our social media feeds or conversations.

“So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly, I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret ...” (Matthew 6v2-4, NIV)

What is just between you and God? You keep secrets with those you’re closest to. What if you started keeping some secrets with God? The good kind?

Jesus concludes: “Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” (Matthew 6v4, NIV) Jesus promises a reward for hidden service.

Service, maybe more than any spiritual practice, is the one we are likely to pursue with right action but wrong motive. I think this is why Jesus singles out service as a spiritual practice best done hidden, where no one can see our motives can more easily fall in line with action.

We often ask the wrong question of spiritual practices. We start with: “How do I do the practice of prayer, fasting, sabbath, or service?” But, of course, the greater question, the first and paramount question, is: “What is the practice of service supposed to do to me?”

Theologian and Anglican Priest Esau McCauley calls service an “enacted parable of the gospel” because of the way it beckons me to actively, tangibly rehearse the movements of God’s grace and mercy, freely offered to me.

That’s what the practice of service does to me: it rehearses the Gospel in a tangible, livable, memorable, embodied way.