Sunday, July 25, 2021

A Little Makes a Difference

July 25, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Ephesians 3:16-21; John 6:1-14[1]

How much is enough? I suppose it depends on when and where you ask the question. The answer depends on your state of mind, and the circumstances in which you find yourself. If you’re just making it day by day, hunger satisfied by even a small meal is enough. A little food can make the difference between a good day and a bad one.

Look at this another way, however, and the question becomes much more open-ended. If you have enough to fly a private rocket from a private facility to the edge of space, is that enough? I find it strange that folk with very little can find just a little to be enough; but those with more than enough often think there is never enough and always more it needed.

Our story today of Jesus feeding a large crowd, five-thousand or more, is one that all four of our Gospels tell. Each telling has its nuances, of course, but the basic story is the same. A large crowd, thousands. It is time to eat. There is only a little food. Jesus takes what there is, shares it, and everyone eats and is satisfied.

The crowd kept following him. It wasn’t because they were hungry, at least not physically hungry. The text says it was “because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick” (v. 2). It was the healing miracles that drew the crowd, though I’m sure they expected a speech, some lessons, or at least a parable. What they did not expect was supper. The amazingly abundant feast, with basketfuls of leftovers, was surprising. It brought to mind a story of the prophet Elisha, giving a little food to a crowd of people. “He set it before them, they ate, and had some left, according to the word of the Lord.”[2] This is the sign that causes them to begin to call Jesus a prophet.

Is a little enough to make a difference? Not if you believe in scarcity. In the minds of the disciples, Philip and Andrew, it certainly wasn’t. Philip focuses on the financial – they would need six-months wages to feed so many, which of course they don’t have. Why would Jesus ask such a silly question? Where are we to buy bread? With what money? Impossible. Andrew notices a boy with food they might appropriate, but there’s not enough. What are five loaves and two fish among so many people?

That sounds like a lot of church meetings, actually. There’s not enough in the budget to buy new curriculum for the Sunday School. We need a new secretary, but can we find anyone willing to work only five or ten hours a week? There is too little to even begin thinking about something new.

Jesus operates out of abundance. Rather than stopping at the obstacles, he goes ahead with instructions to be generous. Take what we have and give it to them, and see what happens. Unexpected, remarkable to give away what we might need for ourselves. The opposite of scarcity, this confidence in abundance is striking. How can so little make a difference?

We have learned scarcity in our society. Just as the greed of billionaires might be described as a sickness, scarcity is a sickness of society. The Rev. Dr. Cheryl Lindsay writes, “Scarcity is a sickness, not of the individual body, but of the community that has resources it withholds out of fear of deprivation.”[3] If I give away what I have, there won’t be enough for me or my family. There is never enough as it is. Besides, what difference can I make with so little?

Was the miracle that God multiplied the bread and fish, that two became four, became eight, became twelve baskets of leftovers? And where did the baskets come from? That may be the miracle. I find it just as miraculous, however, the idea that after Jesus shared what little he had, people began to open their own bags or baskets and share what they had intended to keep for themselves. Generosity inspires generosity; confidence changes minds oriented toward scarcity to refocus on abundance. As Dr. Lindsay suggests, “Could the lesson be not just that Jesus can multiply, but that the miracle doesn’t happen until we stop clinging to what we have and place it in God’s hands?”[4]

There is a subtle detail that John includes in the telling of this story. It is not the disciples who have the loaves and fish, but a boy from the crowd. What an intriguing nuance. When the size of the crowd was noted, it was the men who were counted. The women and children were a side note. Matthew’s Gospel actually says that there were “five thousand men, besides women and children.”[5] The New Revised Standard Version of John’s Gospel reads “about five thousand in all,” (v. 10) but the original Greek specifies men. So, who offers bread and fish to the disciples? Someone who wasn’t even worthy of counting.

How often does our society ignore or dismiss those deemed too young or inexperienced? Who might have something creative or innovative to offer, but their contribution isn’t welcome due to their age, gender, race, or abilities? Yet here we have a boy who provides the means to deliver a miracle. It wasn’t much. Just a little bread and fish. It wasn’t enough to feed everyone, but it was enough to make a difference.

Do we have enough money, or bread, or love to change the world? Surely not. But in the hands of Jesus, a little can be enough. We don’t have to have a master plan, with all the paperwork filed and receipts filled out before we start to serve the world in ministry. We can’t do it all ourselves, but we don’t have to. The mission of saving the world is not all on our shoulders, or on the shoulders of any one person or group of people. It’s not even only on the shoulders of Americans, or Christians, or adults. Because, you see, all of us count, not only the men but also the women and children. Not only us, but them. Each contribution matters, however small.

Felicia once told me a story called “The Tale of the Starfish.”[6] It comes from a longer essay by Loren Eiseley called “The Star Thrower.”[7]

A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement.

She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!”

The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “Well, I made a difference for that one!”

The old man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved.

Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] 2 Kings 4:44.

[3] Cheryl Lindsay, “More Than Enough” for Sermon Seeds, Sunday, July 25, 2021 at https://www.ucc.org/.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Matthew 14:21, italics mine.

[6] “The Tale of the Starfish” from https://www.thestarfishchange.org/starfish-tale.

[7] Loren Eiseley, “The Star Thrower” in The Unexpected Universe, Copyright © 1968 by Loren Eiseley and renewed 1996 by John A. Eichman, III.

Sunday, July 18, 2021

Community of Christ

July 18, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Ephesians 2:11-22[1]

The early church began losing its vision.  Paul had started churches all over Asia Minor and taught them the gospel.  He told them of God’s redemptive involvement in the life of human beings and all of creation, and of the promise through Christ of our glorious destiny.[2]  That destiny Paul spoke of was the second coming, the end of the world, when Christ, “with the sound of God’s trumpet, will descend from heaven, and... we… will be caught up in the clouds… to meet the Lord in the air.”[3]  Except… that didn’t happen.  The end never came.  Jesus didn’t come back on the clouds, at least not yet.  So, they thought, now what do we do?

The author of Ephesians has an idea of what to do next.  This letter was probably written soon after Paul died by one of the early Christians writing in Paul’s name. The letter to the church in Ephesus was circulated to other churches as well.  In that letter, the author redefines the purpose of the church.  Paul had established churches with the idea that the end was coming soon.  They were to be an apocalyptic group, withdrawn from the world, waiting for the end.  Sounds a little like a cult.  Ephesians gives the church a new vision and a new mission.  The church is redefined as the body of Christ, the fulfillment of God’s promises to Israel and the final goal of God’s salvation history.[4]  Christ isn’t coming back in some future time.  Christ is here, now, present in the Church (with a capital C), the gathered community of believers, and engaged with the world.  In Ephesians, the church becomes “the household of God… a holy temple… a dwelling place for God.”[5]

In this new vision, the concept of who is, and is not, a member of the community must be re-imagined.  Paul had already convinced the other leaders of the church – Peter, James, the apostles – that the Greeks, the Gentiles, could join this Jewish religious movement.  Yet they were treated as second-class citizens.  The Jewish Christians held their physical marking, circumcision, as the symbol of true membership.  The Jews knew that they were members of the commonwealth of Israel; God’s chosen people through the covenants.  They were the insiders.  The Gentile Christians were aliens, strangers, far from God.  They were outsiders.  And there was hostility between them.

Things are not so different today.  We are constantly tempted to focus on what divides us – the Muslims and the Jews; Catholic, Evangelical, and the Old Main Line; the rich and the poor, women and men, the red states and the blue states, gay and straight, white and black.  It is so easy to fall into “us” versus “them”, to focus on who is “out” and who is “in”.  By our words and our deeds we exclude others, we exile people from our community.  And to be excluded from the community is like being condemned.  The Greek word “Ghenna”, which is translated “hell” in the New Testament, was the word used for the place outside the walls of the city where the garbage was dumped, the place where the outcasts were exiled.  To be in hell is to be tossed out with the trash.

The early church was divided.  The Jewish Christians had the laws and the commandments that they used to push the Gentiles away, to exclude them from the community.  It stinks to be treated like an outsider.  When you are left out, kept out, pushed aside, how do you feel?  Do you feel resentment, bitterness, hostility?  The Gentile Christians did.

In his gospel, Luke tells us that a lawyer once asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?”[6]  Jesus replied with a story about a Samaritan, someone who would definitely have been seen as an outsider by the Jewish community.  Using that story Jesus redefines the meaning of neighbor.  You think that person over there is an outsider, a stranger, an enemy?  That person is your neighbor, a child of God, a member of your heavenly family!

So the author of Ephesians wrote to the churches, to the saints who are faithful in Christ Jesus, to remind them that Christ came to reconcile us to God, to reconcile both groups in one body through the cross, to create in Christ one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace.  One new humanity.  One community of God.  This is a new definition of community, a community that is joined together in Christ, where there are no more outsiders, only insiders.

In the midst of this community dwells God, God who has a plan, “a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in [Christ], things in heaven and things on earth.”[7]  God gathers all things, not some things, not some people only.  In this new vision, there are no more outsiders.  There is no room in this vision for Israel’s salvation as a separate people, an exclusive group.  In the church of Christ there is no more division.[8]  For through Christ, all of us have access to God.  “[We] are no longer strangers and aliens, but [we] are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God.”[9]

What does this mean for us today?  What does a community look like that will not exclude?  What does it mean to be God’s dwelling place, and to gather up all things, all people, in Christ?

A story I read many years ago in Newsweek, back when it was still a print magazine, featured the “Giving Back Awards.”  The article told the stories of fifteen people who had gone out of their way to help others.  One of the people featured was Mona Purdy.  The article said that “When vacationing in Guatemala in 1999, Purdy, a hairdresser from Illinois, noticed children coating their feet in tar to be able to run in a local race.”[10]  Now, she was on vacation.  This wasn’t her community; she was a stranger, an outsider.  Besides, what could she do?

“She went home and began to collect shoes.  Today, her nonprofit, Share Your Soles, has branches in 13 states and sends shoes around the world.  ‘I always thought I was too busy to help others,’ she said. ‘Then I started this and found myself wondering where I’d been all my life.’”[11]  Mona redefined her community so that it included those children in Guatemala.  Now her community includes 28 countries.

In this church we seek to be a welcoming Christian community, with open hearts and open minds.  Our definition of community includes Gahan, where Debbie and Larry Colvin have served as missionaries for the past three years.  Our community includes Cambodia, where our giving through Our Church’s Wider Mission is helping people living in poverty create sustainable and safe futures for themselves and their families.  Our community includes Northern Illinois, where our work with the Food Bank helped hundreds of people to put food on their tables.  Our community includes the young people who learned music and performed a concert here just a week ago.  And our community includes the people sitting in the pews next to us, members of the household of God and citizens with the saints.

As Christians we are challenged to see all people as members of the household of God.  All people are part of our family, heirs of the promise of salvation.  As we go about our daily lives, let us strive to include others in our community, to reach out to those who are different from us, and welcome because they are members of our family, God’s household.

We belong to God.  God bought us with the cross.  Through Christ we are members of God’s family.  God’s family includes children of every race and every song.  God’s family includes the refugee, the hungry, the poor and oppressed.  God’s family includes you and me.  Let our currency be love, and kindliness our law, so that we may help to usher in God’s realm of peace forevermore.  Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] J. Christiaan Beker, Heirs of Paul: Their Legacy in the New Testament and the Church Today (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1996), 124.

[3] 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 (selected).

[4] Beker, 90.

[5] Ephesians 2:19, 21-22 (selected).

[6] Luke 10:29.

[7] Ephesians 1:10.

[8] Beker, 90.

[9] Ephesians, 2:19.

[10] Alice-Azania Jarvis, “The Giving Back Awards: Reader’s Choice” in Newsweek (July 3/ July 10, 2006, Volume CXLVIII, No. 1/ 2), 64.

[11] Ibid.

Sunday, July 11, 2021

Banquets of Empire

July 11, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Mark 6:6, 14-29[1]

What an awful story! Why this one? This tale of the beheading of John the Baptist offers several things for us to think about. First, this story is a bit of foreshadowing. Just as John preached a different way of living, was arrested, and then executed; Jesus also preached a different way of living, and will ultimately be arrested and executed as well. In a way, Mark is preparing the reader for what is to come.

This passage also foreshadows the answers that the disciples will give when Jesus asks them “Who do people say that I am?”[2] They answer: John the Baptizer, Elijah, or one of the ancient prophets. King Herod concludes that it must be that “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”[3] When Peter answers, later in Mark’s gospel, he declares “You are the Messiah.”[4]

Second, this story illustrates a contrast between the ways of wealth and power, in that time and in ours, and the alternative way of Jesus. As the Rev. Michael Anthony Howard wrote in a reflection on this text, “Where the banquets of empire are feasts of fear, scarcity, and death, the followers of Jesus partake in the feast [of] love, abundance, and life!”[5]

This story has a convoluted beginning. Essentially, King Herod had married his brother’s wife, Herodias. John pointed out to Herod that this was not lawful, according to Leviticus 20:21. John, being a prophet, probably said this in a public setting, embarrassing Herod and Herodias. This causes Herodias to want to kill him, but Herod doesn’t because he was a public figure known as a holy man, and because “he liked to listen to him.”[6] So, Herod only had him arrested.

This brings us up to the banquet, a lavish birthday celebration for King Herod, with all the most important, wealthy, and powerful people attending. A bit of background might be helpful here.

The ruling class of Judea held power because of their submission to Roman rule. Roman power, exerted through the threat of violence, pervaded every aspect of society. The local elites curried favor from Rome through an extensive building campaign begun under Herod the Great. After his death, Herod Antipas, the King Herod in this story, funded a massive twenty-year, empire-city-building tribute to Rome.[7] Through taxes, forced labor, and the ever-present threat of violence, Herod held more power than any besides the Roman officials themselves.

At the same time, Herod’s position was weak. At any moment, Rome’s displeasure with him could find Herod replaced. The courtiers, officers, and leaders of Galilee knew this. They may have shown public deference to the king, but each would be watching for their chance to knock him down and take his place. Herod also seems easily manipulated by his wife, Herodias, who keeps her eyes open for any opportunity. He had reason to fear rebellion, too, which was one reason he had not executed John.

Into the midst of the banquet dances the child of Herod and Herodias. “She pleased Herod and his guests,”[8] and, in a soft-hearted gesture, Herod promises to give her anything she might ask for. He even, foolishly, swears to give her even half of his kingdom. When the girl consults her mother, Herodias sees her moment to strike. The child, in front of a room of powerful, greedy men, asks for “the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”[9]

The king is stuck. He has made a bold promise in front of these powerful people who will use any misstep against him. He must fulfill his daughter’s wish, or be seen as weak. He gives the order, out of his own fear of losing power, or losing face in front of the powerful, and the violence of the state is unleashed.

This scene is, unfortunately, not unusual. It was, and is, common for the powerful to fear the loss of power, and to feel the need to show others just how powerful they are. Those who rule through violence find reasons to use that violence; and it is those who try to hold power to account, the prophets, the oppressed, the innocent, the poor, women, and children who are most often on the receiving end of that violence.

This is the world into which Jesus walks, bringing a very different message, and a different kind of banquet. When people gather around Jesus, there is healing, learning, compassion. The people who gather to eat with Jesus, it’s not the wealthy and powerful but sinners, some fishermen, and crowds of ordinary folk. The women around Jesus are not there to serve and entertain, but to be equal partners in bringing the realm of God to life. As the author Rachel Held Evans once wrote, “The church is God saying, ‘I’m throwing a banquet, and all these mismatched, messed up people are invited. Here, have some wine.”[10]

When Jesus held a banquet, it wasn’t the local elites who gathered to dine. “As he sat at dinner in Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were also sitting with Jesus and his disciples.”[11] When asked why he would eat with such people, Jesus said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”[12]

He became so popular so quickly that while trying to eat a meal in Nazareth, “the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat.” The meal would have to wait, there was teaching and healing to be done.

A great crowd followed him to a deserted place, and stayed listening to him well into the evening. The disciples thought to send the crowd away to find something to eat, but Jesus answered them, “You give them something to eat.”[13] With five loaves and two fish, all ate and were filled.

The disciples, humble as they were, did seek for power. Once as they walked along, they argued with one another about who was the greatest. Rather than show of his power and strength, Jesus taught them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”[14] Jesus didn’t come to rule like a king, but rather to rule in the hearts of the people.

At the end, when he knew the end was near, they gathered in an upper room. Jesus didn’t offer them wealth or power; he didn’t demand the death of his enemies. Instead, he gave them himself, willingly going to his fate, becoming so much more than a provincial ruler in an empire built on violence.

While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”[15]

We choose the kind of banquets we attend. We can dine on wealth and power, using violence and fear to control others. We can serve a meal of greed on a platter of death. We can participate in the banquets of empire. But Jesus offers a different way.

Let us dine on service and self-sacrifice. Let us use kindness and love, not to force, but to guide others to a better way of life. Let us serve a meal of gratitude for all that God has provided that gives life. Let us eat at Christ’s table, welcoming everyone, healing each other’s wounds, binding up broken hearts, and joining in the covenant of love.  Amen.



[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Mark 8:27-30.

[3] Mark 6:16.

[4] Mark 8:29.

[5] Michael Anthony Howard, “Weekly Seeds: The Banquet of God (Lavishing Grace)” for Sunday, July 11, 2021 on https://www.ucc.org/sermon-seeds/the-banquet-of-god-lavishing-grace/.

[6] Mark 6:20.

[7] Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 32-33.

[8] Mark 6:22.

[9] Mark 6:25.

[10] Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2015).

[11] Mark 2:15.

[12] Mark 2:17.

[13] Mark 6:37.

[14] Mark 9:35.

[15] Mark 14:22-25.