Thou shalt offer thine oblations

My reading this week was D&C 59. While the obvious theme of the chapter is the Sabbath, I was struck by how closely it was tied to the theme of consecration, which I'd been reading about before Easter.

59:1-8 - From its opening verse, the revelation exhorts hearers/readers to have "an eye single to [God's] glory." Later on, the revelation will speak of the "singleness of heart" with which the Saints should prepare their food on the Sabbath (v. 13). That idea of single-minded focus on God is part of what consecration calls us to.

So too is the commandment to love and serve God with all your heart, mind, mind, and strength (v. 5); to be as concerned for your neighbor as you are for yourself (v. 6); to thank God in all things; and to offer the sacrifice of a broken heart and contrite spirit, which I take to mean the entire offering of yourself: no reservation or aloofness or standoffishness, a heart that is open and therefore vulnerable, an offering that includes your griefs and humiliations and failures and smallness.

59:9-14 - God calls the Sabbath "my holy day" (v.9), which is to say it is a day consecrated to God. We set aside our own labors on that day so that we can focus on paying our devotions to the Most High (v. 10, 13). This is also a day to offer our oblations, or offerings, to God.

Four years ago, after reading this chapter, I resolved to plan ahead so that I wouldn't have to do schoolwork on Sunday, as a way of clearing the day for God, and for my own rest. I was pretty good about it for a while, though the resolution has since gone to pot. (It won't be happening today—I have too much grading to do before tomorrow's deadline. And so we see where my non-negotiable priorities really lie.) It's also been I don't know how long since I observed the monthly fast, though I used to be very good about that, too. I remembered it's Fast Sunday as I was walking the dog this morning, so I'll be fasting until dinner.

My Sabbath observance at present consists of dedicating time to this blog (my spiritual journaling), usually attending the Episcopal service in the afternoon, and then going home to bless the sacrament for myself. While I was studying consecration a few weeks ago, I resolved to start doing something which I haven't actually started doing yet: During the offertory at the Episcopal service Hugo and I attend, they not only pass around the usual collection but also bring to the altar a basket of in-kind donations for the local food pantry. Those offerings have been getting noticeably skimpy for quite some time. My new resolution is to bring at least one item for the food bank offering every Sunday. It's a ludicrously token oblation, but at least it's more by way of consecration than I'm doing now. I need to start today.

59:15-24 - Here we're told that if we do "these things"—i.e., live out the principles of consecration laid out in the preceding verses—the fulness of the earth is ours (vv. 15-16). It's a kind of reverse-direction consecration: instead of human offerings consecrated to God, we have here God consecrating (dedicating) creation for human use. The conditionality is crucial here to prevent a pernicious anthropocentrism: Creation is legitimately ours only "inasmuch as" we practice consecration (v. 15). The logic I see here is that if we are wholly dedicated to God's will, then we can be trusted to be wise stewards who will administer creation to God's ends, which include equal distribution of human wealth (D&C 49:20; 104:15-18) and the intention (as we learn in the temple) that every living thing should fill the measure of its creation and have joy therein. Cf. the injunction that creation is to be used "with judgment, not to excess, neither by extortion" (v. 20).

In these verses, I see the concept of consecration flowing over into recognizing that our materiality is integral to the wholeness of who we are and what God wants us to be. Consecration—the godly use of our material goods—matters because the conditions of our material existence matter. The God who speaks in this revelation is not a Gnostic god calling us to lay aside the material world and its concerns in favor of "higher," truly enduring spiritual realities. (Which is not to say there's no truth to be heard in revelations that do speak in those terms, but that's another story.) The God who speaks here wants His/Her children to have material abundance: food and clothes and houses and barns and orchards and gardens and vineyards (v. 17). This God is concerned about the aesthetics of creation: about giving us beautiful things to look at, and pleasant tastes and smells, "to gladden the heart . . . and to enliven the soul" (vv. 18-19). I thought of that today as I was walking the dog in the early morning and enjoying the smell of the latest round of blooms. This God gives abundantly, concerned for our material well-being—and asks us to do likewise for one another.

************

God of generosity—

I know I haven't even begun to live a really consecrated life.
For what it's worth, though, I still bow my head and say "Yes" to the call.
Today I'm going to fast, and I'm going to take those three lousy cans to church for the offertory.
There's my oblation for today. I know it's pathetic.
Let it be to some good, though.

In Christ's name, amen.