“But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us” (2 Corinthians 4:7).
Homemade ravioli. Sunday sauce. Stuffed artichokes. These dishes and more composed the many spreads of one of my favorite and most vivid childhood memories: Sunday gatherings in the home of my Italian-American family. My oldest uncle, Geronimo (Jerry), and Aunt Sue were the designated hosts for our family gatherings occasioned by sweet sixteens, baby showers, holidays, or just any given Sunday. Aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, romantic interests, and longtime neighbors would start populating the small brick home in Queens, New York, from around 1pm. Sunday dinners were at least six-hour affairs, including multiple rounds of food, drink, and undoubtedly loud conversations in between.
If you are not familiar with our culture, the tone and tenor of these conversations might cause you to think a fistfight would break out any second.
The conversations would follow a predictable pattern. As the pasta was settling into our stomachs, my dad and uncles would gather around a windowed sitting area in the front of the house facing the street and begin with sports. Usually baseball. Usually the Yankees. During dessert, the conversation would transition to politics and occasionally religion. Now, if you are not familiar with our culture, the tone and tenor of these conversations might cause you to think a fistfight would break out any second. Verbal pugilism was a sport in my family and the sitting room was the ring. My young cousins and I knew not to step into the fray, though at times my older cousins would find their voice, and we would silently cheer them on as they boldly offered their take on the Yankees’ pitching rotation or the looming union strike. Every so often, when the debate would reach a boiling point, my Aunt Sue, a Southern belle, who met and married my uncle Jerry while he was stationed in Florida, would step into the circle and re-establish order by telling everyone to quiet down. Though the words she used were much more colorful, her Southern accent really took the edge off.
It was in the last hours of our gatherings that my grandparents would appear, and that’s when the real magic would happen. It was as if everyone knew not to utter the names “Papa and Mama” until everything else was out of the way. My grandmother died of cancer at a young age, my dad was only 8 years old, and my grandfather fell victim to cancer 15 years later. As the youngest cousin, I never had the privilege of meeting either of them, though I do have the privilege of being my grandfather Angelo’s namesake. Both immigrated to the States from Italy (in their teens and twenties, respectively) and met as neighbors in Brooklyn, New York. They built a life for themselves and their children around the values of devotion to family and hard work.
I have memories of people I’ve never seen in my life because I was raised with those people through the collective stories of my elders.
As a young boy, I could tell my grandparents’ death had left a huge void in our family, and the only way we knew to fill that void, to keep them with us, was through stories. And my family was unmatched in storytelling. In fact, they would tell and re-tell such vivid and detailed stories about my grandparents that I no longer experience them as stories; I experience them as memories. I have memories of people I’ve never seen in my life because I was raised with those people through the collective stories of my elders. You see, my elders were more than just family; they were treasure keepers. And the treasure they carried was the love and devotion of their elders, embodied in the stories they told about them. (And also, the recipes. My grandfather taught all his daughters-in-law how to make sauce before he passed.)
In 2 Corinthians 4:7, Paul is telling the suffering church in Corinth that they too are treasure keepers. And that the treasure they embody is the gospel story, which is the power of God unto salvation. Notice how Paul deliberately juxtaposes the excellence of the treasure with the fragility of its container. Paul knew that the Church had weaknesses because it was composed of people who had weaknesses. But our weaknesses do not disqualify us from God’s purpose. In fact, the weaker the vessel, the greater the glory. The success of the gospel does not depend on the strength of its bearers but rather on their willingness to receive and tell the story of a Savior who is strong enough to save to the uttermost those who are called by God in them.
We have been given a treasure in the story of Scripture, and we have the incredible privilege to tell and re-tell that story in as many ways and through as many means as possible. As you experience the story, you can retell it in your own words and in your own life in ways that will reach people that only you can. And in doing so, the gospel treasure will change the lives of individuals, families, and even generations to come. Will you be a treasure keeper?Â
Angelo Grasso
Angelo Grasso serves as Light Bearers’ Spiritual Care Director and ARISE instructor. An ordained minister and trained chaplain, Angelo is deeply passionate about exploring the intersection of brain science and spiritual growth across all stages of life. He is blessed by the companionship of his wife, Kathy, and their two children, Eli and Emma.
