August 3, 2008
First Congregational Church in Thetford, Vermont, UCC
Matthew 14:13-21
Sermon in a sentence
For one of my classes in seminary, we were required to distill the message of all of
our sermons into one sentence. I could read that one sentence right now, and we could
fast forward to the next portion of today’s service, but that would be too easy! So try to
get comfortable because today’s sermon is going to take longer than ten seconds. I have
wondered how many different sermons there actually are. And how many sermons are
basically variations on the same theme.
My time here at Thetford, this extended pulpit supply, has given me the
opportunity to write a sermon every week for ten weeks in a row. Which is very different
than my previous experience doing pulpit supply which had me preaching only
occasionally – maybe one Sunday out of the month, and each of those times in a different
church. Bringing a weekly reflection to the same community has allowed us the
opportunity to develop our thoughts together over time as we grow in relationship with
each other.
Generally, I follow the assigned scriptural texts of the Revised Common
Lectionary. I like the discipline of having to consider a recommended text, rather than a
more random approach to selecting a passage on which to reflect. The lectionary brings
me into dialogue with passages in the Bible that I may be unfamiliar with, and those with
which I struggle, and those that challenge me to think more deeply about my personal
faith as well as what the passage might be saying to a faith community. Today’s passage
from Matthew is a very familiar one, I expect, for most of us. It describes one of the
better know miracles reported as an event during Jesus’ ministry, that of feeding a
multitude of people with only five loaves of bread and two fish. Versions of this story
appear in all four of the gospels, so we are invited to reflect on it every year of the
Lectionary’s three-year cycle.
Matthew’s gospel places this miracle story immediately after the execution of
John the baptizer. Upon hearing this news of the death of his cousin Jesus attempted to
withdraw from public life for a time of solitude. But the crowds followed him into the
isolated area. And Jesus put his grief aside to respond to the needs of the living by
healing the sick. The disciples also showed compassion for the crowd. As the hour grew
late, they were concerned that the people needed to eat and wanted to send them away in
time to purchase food in the nearby towns.
Jesus rejected the disciples suggestion. Instead, Jesus called the disciples into
responsibility for those gathered. Jesus asked the disciples what they could offer to feed
this crowd. He called them to use the limited resources they had on hand to nourish the
crowd, even though they seemed to not have nearly enough. But Jesus assessed the same
resources differently. This gospel story could offer us a lesson in cultivating an attitude of
abundance rather than one of scarcity. Or since the disciples had to rely on something
beyond themselves to supply the peoples’ need, it could be a lesson in humility.
Maybe Jesus didn’t want to send them away because he knew they hadn’t gotten
what they came for; they weren’t yet satisfied or satiated. He had tended to some of
their physical needs by healing people. And eating was another physical need. But
maybe Jesus could see that their hunger was also spiritual. Otherwise, would it have been
necessary to send them away for food? Wouldn’t they have figured out for themselves
that they were hungry and gone off in search of food? They had walked from the towns
to this remote location, so they knew where they were and how far they’d have to walk
to get back to town. Jesus didn’t want them to have to search for food for their empty
bodies, or to search elsewhere to nourish their spirits.
Feeding this large crowd was more than the disciples could handle, so they gave
this burden over to Jesus. Jesus took the small amount of food the disciples had, he took
the five loaves of bread and the two fish. Then he looked up to heaven. Then he blessed
the bread and broke it. And finally he gave it, not directly to the people, but back to the
disciples so that they could give it to the people.
Jesus took the loaves and the fish. Jesus took stock of what he had to work with
before he acted. He collected the available resources from the disciples. He didn’t
demand any more than they had to offer.
Jesus looked up to heaven. While it is true that he took the burden from the
disciples, Jesus looked beyond himself for the solution to the problem. The first thing he
did was look up to heaven. Even Jesus didn’t rely on his own abilities. He directed his
attention to the source of everything we have. Perhaps this is a lesson in faith, and a
glimpse of Jesus’ own humility.
Jesus blessed and broke the food. The blessing follows the look to heaven. It is as
though the blessing originates with God but flows through Jesus, somehow making the
ordinary provisions into something extraordinary. When the ordinary becomes sacred and
then anything can happen. (When the divine is incarnated into human form anything can
happen.) I can’t say with certainty whether the ordinary thing is somehow made
different by the blessing, or whether we simply recognize that it was sacred all along.
The simplest mealtime table blessing is a way saying “thanks,” a way of acknowledging
the source of all we have, which helps us to recognize that it is sacred.
Then Jesus broke the bread. He opened it up because we can’t share what is
closed and solid. The item needs to be fragmented to be distributed, fragmented if more
than one person is going to benefit from it. When the item is broken, it’s potential is
transformed from blessing the one who holds it, to the possibility of blessing the entire
community. The potential for distributing the blessing expands; the blessing is multiplied.
Jesus gave the food. Jesus didn’t take what the disciples had, bless it and
distribute it himself. He blessed it and broke it, then gave it BACK to the disciples so
they could distribute it to the hungry people, which is what he had asked them to do in
the first place. (“you give them something to eat” 13:16). Jesus’ actions empowered the
disciples to take care of the people with the very same quantity of resources they started
out with. Jesus asked them to do something that seemed beyond their abilities. But it
wasn’t beyond their abilities with Jesus’ support, which was graciously offered and freely
given.
Jesus took the loaves and the fish from the disciples, he looked to heaven, blessed
and broke the food, then gave it back to the disciples to feed the people. But this isn’t
the end of the miracle story. When the meal was finished the leftovers collected filled
twelve baskets. The fragments that came back amounted to more than the original amount
distributed. Contrary to what you learned about fractions in fourth grade math, the sum
of the parts was more than the whole even after some of the parts had been consumed.
I find myself wondering, why bother to collect the remnants? Perhaps it allows
everyone to contribute. Perhaps the collection respects that everyone has something to
give. I’ve heard this miracle story explained away by suggesting that the meal turned into
a potluck, where everybody who had something to give offered to share it with all
gathered. And I’m OK with not reading this story as a literal miracle. But I can’t dismiss
it as non-miraculous. Whether Jesus fed five thousand people by his own hand, or
whether five thousand people fed each other, its still miraculous. Either way, people gave
what they had even out of a perception of scarcity having faith that it would be enough.
Perhaps the lesson in this story is that abundance measured on God’s terms may look
different than what we expect or believe it to be.
Now the bread is in our hands
The description of Jesus’ actions of dividing and distributing the bread and fish in
this story foreshadow the last supper, where we hear again how Jesus takes the bread and
wine, blesses and breaks it before distributing it to his friends. The story also
foreshadows a messianic banquet at the end of time, when all of humanity is regathered
into communion with God around a table of plenty.
This story is also beautiful metaphor for how Jesus equips us (his disciples,
followers) to nourish those who are seeking to fill their spiritual emptiness. After Jesus
left this earthly life, the bread was in the disciples’ hands. And as heirs to this tradition,
the bread is now in our hands. The story reminds us that we are responsible for the well
being of one another. And it reminds us that those gifts we give in love come back to us
multiplied.
Looking on God’s face
Matthew’s Gospel tells us that Jesus “looked up to heaven.” We look up to
heaven, because heaven is where we expect to find God. When we look up to heaven we
look into the future. In our responsive reading earlier this morning, we heard what the
psalmist wrote about looking on God’s face, “when I awake I shall be satisfied beholding
your likeness” (Psalm 17:15b). I don’t know about you but when I awake the first face I
see in the morning is often furry and orange. No, not my husband’s face my cat’s. He
has a habit of rising early, and then trying to convince someone to get up and feed him
and let him out. So out of a sound sleep I sometimes feel a paw poking my face, usually
just a gentle jab. But if that doesn’t work he’s been known to resort to the claw massage.
Typically I pull the covers over my head and roll over. Not because I’m too lazy to get up
at 4:30 in the morning, but I don’t want to encourage this behavior. Of course, he never
gives up on his mission to train his human staff to serve his needs, so I can count on
another attempt in the days ahead.
The faces I always see in the morning, beyond the cat, are my family, my husband
and daughters in some combination depending on who’s at home and what everyone’s
particular schedule for the day might be. The truth is, no matter whether I see human or
feline first thing in the morning, to the extent that we are all God’s creatures, they all in
some way reflect our creator. I confess that greeting God’s presence is not what I first
think of at 4:30 am when there is a kitty paw poking my face, but if I can recognize even
the sacredness in that, then in essence I can start each day as the psalmist suggests, I
awake beholding God’s presence.
We are made in God’s image, so even if we live alone it is possible to look on
God’s face when we get up in the morning just by looking in the mirror. When we brush
our teeth, we are looking on God’s image. And even those who live alone interact with a
wide circle of people made up of friends, coworkers, store clerks, fellow travelers. Every
interaction invites us to look on God’s face. Every time we look at each other, whether
we are looking at friend or a stranger. And I really feel that this is one of important
lessons of this gospel story about feeding five thousand random people from nearby
towns and all over the surrounding countryside. Remember, Jesus asked all of the people
sit down together. Then he broke bread so that they could share a meal with one another.
With that many people, it must’ve taken some time. There must’ve been time to give and
take, to talk and get acquainted. So that when they left that place, they weren’t just five
thousand strangers who had heard a great sermon. They had participated in nourishing
each other. They were connected to each other.
So the one sentence sermon; the core message that I’ve tried to share with you, in
ten different variations over the past ten weeks is this: “Because we are made in God’s
own image, the only authentic way we can relate to each other and interact with the
world is with love.”
Countless gifts of love
I have been blessed in countless ways while leading this church in worship these
past couple of months. Even though I am fairly new to this leadership role, am just out of
seminary and still trying on my competencies for following my call. First Congregational
Church in Thetford took me in “as is.” That was risky behavior on your part. But you had
faith that whatever I brought to worship each week would be adequate for the task of
leading this congregation in a celebration of our relationship with each other and with our
Creator. You have trusted me to teach and nurture your children. When I talked about
my personal experience as a person of color, a minority in Vermont, you held my
vulnerability in a safe container. You have made me feel very much at home here. And
for all these blessings I say, “thank you.”
Agape
Since I am not yet ordained, I am not authorized to bless the communion bread
and wine (juice). So we’re unable to celebrate the sacrament on the customary first-
Sunday-in-the-month. But I do so want to break bread with you one more time in a
celebration of fellowship in the form of an Agape meal.
Please allow the nourishment of this table to gather us into community that we
may share with one another in love.
We are thankful for each other, for the power of love that upholds us. We are grateful for
the power of forgiveness, hope, faithfulness, trust, challenge and knowledge.
Let this bread be blessed for our use. May we partake of the gift of the past, present and
future, which lives at this moment in our thanksgiving for one another.
The bread of the earth for the people of the earth; this is a symbol of our communion with
the peoples of the world and our everlasting connection with one another.
May this meal of blessing nourish us in body, mind and spirit, strengthening us in bonds
of love.
(we will serve your each other by offering the loaf to your neighbor to break off a piece to
eat)
Prayer
God, whose everlasting love for all is trustworthy, help each of us to trust the
future which rests in your care. The time we were together in your name held our
celebrations and concerns, our hopes and disappointments. Guide us as we hold these
memories but move in new directions, until that time to come when we are completely
one in you and with each other, in the name of Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.
Sermon 08/03/2008