Sermons: #abundance

Showing posts with label #abundance. Show all posts

Sunday, April 30, 2023

What Voice Do We Follow?

April 30, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Okay, here it comes again - getting compared to sheep. We’re supposed to be obedient and passive, following the rules, going where we’re led, content with our lives. Well, I’m not a follower. I’m a leader! I can fly solo and I don’t need anyone to tell me what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go. I’m free and independent; I can do it on my own, thank you very much!

There are times, I’m sure, when we all feel like this. Someone else wants to tell us who we’re supposed to be, what we’re supposed to do, how we should look, what we should buy, and how we should feel. We get tired of other people controlling us, and we want to just shut out all the noise and just be ourselves.

It’s all these voices that surround us, pulling us in a thousand directions, which leave us feeling stretched, frustrated, lost. Everywhere we turn there is another voice offering us better, bigger, faster, more. “The world’s thinnest smartphone. Takes the best pictures ever!” “The Super Duty truck – built stronger, tougher, better.” “We make every aspect of rolling over your 401k as simple as possible. Make the smart choice.” “The ultimate, collectible, special edition – available for a limited time!” The volume keeps getting louder and louder, and we begin to start listening.

“Maybe if I buy a bigger television, I’ll be happier.” “One more promotion and I’ll finally get to do what I want.” “If I wear right jeans, maybe she’ll notice me.” We start to listen, and we begin to follow those voices. They are very seductive, and they sound so sincere. And then we really lose our way, because those voices confuse us. They don’t come from a place of love and community. They lead us into the dark valley, charge admission to the green pastures, and bottle up the still waters.

It’s not that we haven’t heard the warnings. When we stop to think about it, we know where the thieves and bandits are leading us. But it’s so much easier to climb the fence than do what it takes to get through the gate. Trying to do the right thing, to be the best version of ourselves all the time can be exhausting. It’s so much easier to just give in to temptation. We want so desperately what the thieves and bandits promise: contentment, happiness, joy – even when we know they can’t deliver.

I think that what we are all really searching for is abundance. But it is not the abundance of material things. It is not the abundance of wealth, power, or prestige. It is not even the abundance of people who think we’re really swell. I think what we are all really searching for is something that only the true shepherd can give us – abundance of life. In the Psalm we hear the metaphor of the abundant life of the spirit – green pastures, still waters, the overflowing cup.

Jesus says “I am the good shepherd.”^{^[2]} In the hill country of ancient Israel, a shepherd lived a hard life. There was little or no shelter, wolves and snakes to contend with, and all those sheep in constant need of fresh grass, water, and someone to lead them. But a good shepherd loved the sheep as his own, and would lay down his life to protect them.

Jesus is the gate for the sheep – and when we come in and go out by the gate, we find pasture. When we hop the fence with the thieves and bandits, we only end up being destroyed. But, when we hear that one voice, the voice of the one who knows us each by name, then we know the one to follow. When we follow the voice of the one who loves us, we know that we will be led by right paths to the abundant pasture.

It is lonely when no one knows your name, your story, the real you. When no one knows you, it is as if you don’t matter, you don’t belong. There is a challenge in that for the Church. Most of us know the names of the people who join us each week for worship. But even in our small church there are people who are not known. There are people whose names are not called, whose stories go untold, who never know a real sense of community, of belonging, of being known. It is a challenge to us, as people who are known, to seek out the unknown, to seek out those who are lonely and lost, and call them by name. It is a challenge to us to welcome into our community those who don’t seem to fit anywhere else and open the gate so that they can belong, because they too have a shepherd who calls them by name.

One of the ways in which we name one another is something we do in worship each week. We share our joys and celebrate the ones we love by saying the names. We celebrate birthdays and lift up people who are sick and who have died. We have celebrated young people being confirmed when they hear their name spoken in the midst of the gathered community. On All Saints Sunday, we speak the names of those who have died in the past year, as we celebrate the lives they lived among us.

When Mary Magdalene went to the garden on that first Easter morning, Jesus called her by name, and she knew that voice. In that voice she heard the love and care and hope that God had for her. In that one word, “Mary,” she knew that she mattered.

In the early church the disciples had very little. But they had at least three things they could celebrate. They had a community where they were known by name, a community wherein they shared all things in common, and served one another’s needs. They had the presence of the Holy Spirit as they spent time praying in the temple and breaking bread together with glad and generous hearts. And they had an abundance of life as the goodness and mercy that filled their cups overflowed into their community and beyond.

I have enjoyed that abundant life from time-to-time. I remember as a child going to church pot-lucks and festivals that filled the air with fellowship and celebration. When I was in high school, I went to camp, spending a week or a week-end singing, praying, learning, and eating in sacred community.

Take a moment and see if you can remember a time when you had that powerful experience of fellowship, joy, and community. Can you remember that feeling? Can you remember that feeling of abundance – love, and joy, and peace?

Like you I’m sure, those moments have been fleeting for me. They come around only from time-to-time. I get pulled away, drawn back into the routine, the work that must be done, the pains and sorrows, frustrations and hassles of a life that seems everything but abundant. Honestly, sometimes I think about climbing the fence and running off toward the false promises.

That is why it is so important that we remind one another that the life we seek, the abundant life, is found in Christ. We enter by the gate when we listen to the voice of the one who laid down his life for us, yet rose again to life abundant. We follow the shepherd because we know the voice.

And how do we know the voice of our shepherd? It helps if we stay with the flock, or hang out near the gate. We practice listening together and learning to tune out the discordant and dissonant noise that leads us astray. We study and speak and sing the words of Jesus until we hear him calling to us, and we know his voice: “It is I; do not be afraid.”^{^[3]} “Those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.”^{^[4]} “Love one another as I have loved you.”^{^[5]} “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”^{^[6]} “Follow me.”^{^[7]}

When we practice listening, listening with each other for the voice of true, holy love, we begin to hear it through the din of all the other voices. And when we become adept at following that voice, we become shepherds too. We can help others to listen to the voice of the shepherd and to stop listening to the thieves and bandits who know us not. We become guides for one another, shepherds in sheep’s clothing, if you will. When we know the way through the gate, we can help others to find the way. Listen! I hear a voice calling my name. Do you hear it too? It’s saying “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”^{^[8]} 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] John 10:14.

[3] John 6:20.

[4] John 4: 14.

[5] John 15:12.

[6] John 13:35.

[7] John 1:43.

[8] John 14:6.

Sunday, July 31, 2022

The Blessing of Abundance

July 31, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Leviticus 25:1-4, 18-24; Luke 12:16-20 [1]

I arrived in Chicago in the fall of 2003 to begin seminary. After a few weeks, I received a care package from my home church. Alone in my apartment, I opened the package. In it were some cards from church members with words of encouragement, a tourist book about the city, and a box of brownies. Two dozen brownies! What a blessing! They were moist and sticky, and they smelled so good. I immediately ate two of them, savoring the rich chocolate flavor. Then, I closed up the box and set them in my refrigerator to store them.

As the days passed, when I was feeling lonely, I would eat a brownie and think about my good fortune – having so many good brownies to eat. I didn’t eat one every day, and so they would sit in the fridge, safely tucked away, slowly getting stale and dried out. After a couple of weeks, the remaining brownies were pretty hard, and they no longer tasted very good. I had to throw away the last few stale brownies. I was still lonely, and now I had no more brownies.

I don’t think of myself as a rich man. My wife and I manage to pay our bills each month, keep food on the table, keep our kids active, and get regular check-ups. But our parents helped us buy or home and cars, the kids are the only ones with new clothes, and we have more debt than savings. The thing is, we have a storage unit, and it is just jammed with stuff. There’s an old TV, the kids’ old toys, some of my old toys, boxes of books, boxes of old clothes, and furniture we don’t have room for in the house.

I’m running out of places to put all this stuff. What should I do? Sell it and give the money to the poor, right? Or at least donate it to Goodwill or a rummage sale. But I really like some of that stuff, and it might be useful someday. Maybe if I just build a bigger basement, or get another storage unit.

People hold on to a lot of things, not just objects that fit (or not) in the storage room. We hold on to regrets and mistakes from our past. We hold on to the idea that life can be pain-free, and happiness is only one more purchase away. We hold on to stereotypes, “facts” that have been proven false, and even people who try to control us with negativity. We are prisoners of this stuff, and it keeps us from entering the kingdom of God.

An abundance of possessions can do funny things to us. We can become infected with greed. We can become angry – paranoid that someone will take what is ours. We hoard up our good things and push people away so that they won't take our things away from us. We push people away, and pull our stuff closer to us.

The man in the parable has been blessed with an abundant harvest. It was amazing! The harvest was so good that all of his barns could not contain it. Where could he store all of his things? He decided to tear down his barns and build larger ones that could store all of his abundant harvest of grain, and all of his good things. He was satisfied with himself – at least until God came calling. God points out his foolishness. He has pushed away the people around him, and pulled his stuff closer. The man tries to tell himself “Relax, eat, drink, be merry.” But the words are hollow sounding, and in his heart, he does not feel merry; rather, he feels nervous, empty, lonely.

Greed leads us to the belief that the good things in this world are limited. No more brownies are coming in the mail; I need to store them so that I can prolong the comfort they give. I might need those old books stashed away in a box in my basement. The fields won't produce enough grain next year; I need to store up what I have for myself.

Now God enters into the parable with a warning. “You fool! The blessing of the harvest wasn’t for you alone – the blessing of the harvest belongs to the community.” The abundant harvest is really a special blessing. In the book of Leviticus, we read how the land will produce abundantly during the sixth year in preparation for the seventh year of Sabbath for the land. “I will order my blessing for you in the sixth year, so that [the land] will yield a crop for three years” says the Lord. (Leviticus 25:21).

A New Testament Professor named Bernard Brandon Scott wrote a book entitled Hear Then the Parable.[2] In his study of this parable, Scott suggests that the rich man perceives the good things he possesses as limited. Scott tells us, “If one person hoards wealth, there will be none left to go around. If there is a surplus today, there must be a shortage tomorrow.” By saving up his harvest to provide for his own comfort, the rich man “offends against the community’s possibilities, wastes God’s gifts, and ensures the impoverishment of others.” The land has brought forth an abundant harvest, but it is not for the rich man to keep for himself. The harvest is meant to provide for the needs of the community while the land is fallow during the Sabbath year. The man in the parable, by hoarding the harvest for himself, turns his back on his neighbors. He pushes away the people of the community and pulls his stuff closer.

The man in the parable has made a crucial misunderstanding. He thinks that the blessings of God are limited. There are only so many blessings to go around; better store them up! He does not understand the nature of God.

The blessings of God are not limited! Luke tells us that when Jesus was faced with a large, hungry crowd in a deserted place, with only five loaves and two fish, “he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled” (Luke 9:16-17). God’s blessing was enough to provide food for more than five thousand people!

The blessings of God are not limited, and they are given to us so that we might share them with others. When we share our goods with others, what does that feel like?

At couple of years ago, we used some of our discretionary funds – a gift from the Lions Club – to pay for a truck to come to Union from the Food Depository. People from our church gathered over at the Lutheran Church to distribute boxes of food to people in need, many of whom had lost jobs due to COVID. We worked together, had fun, saw the smiles on the faces of those we helped, and it felt great!

As we make our pledges each year to the church, as we support the MORE food pantry, Turning Point, PADS, and the Heifer Project, we are sharing the abundance with which God has blessed us all. When we give out of our abundance to our church, to our neighbors, to our community, there is a feeling of joy, of celebration. Had I shared those brownies that came in my care package, I might have made some new friends, and been able to celebrate the blessing of the brownies. If I manage to donate some of my stored stuff this year, I know that there will be people who need what I have to give. When the crops come with abundance, the harvest celebration begins.

The blessings of God are not limited. When we share what we have, when we share out of the abundance of our things, we draw people together in celebration. When we share our stuff, we pull people together.

God gives blessings in abundance, without limits. God gives us life itself, and not only that. In Jesus Christ, the stone of human limitations was rolled away so that we might all share in the abundance of eternal life. Life without limits; enough life to share with everyone, enough for a celebration of the abundant blessing that God has given to us.

My friend Chris Marlin-Warfield, a minister in Iowa, wrote a book entitled Radical Charity. In it he says that the church is “a little piece of the kingdom of God here in a broken world; a place and a community where people can see what the world could be like.” We have an amazing opportunity, “to be, however imperfectly, the world as God wants it to be. And that world is one that is full of agape, of caritas, of love, of charity.”[3]

We are not called to tear down our barns and build larger ones to store all of our wealth for ourselves. We are called share the abundance of God’s blessing. We are called to give food to the hungry, to shelter the homeless, to clothe the naked. We are called to share the good news that God’s blessings are not limited. We are greatly blessed, so let us be a great blessing. Amen.

[2] Bernard Brandon Scott, Hear Then the Parable: A Commentary on the Parables of Jesus (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1989), 137.

[3] Christopher Marlin-Warfield, Radical Charity: How Generosity Can Save the World (And the Church) (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2019), 171. Available from: https://wipfandstock.com/radical-charity.html

Sunday, March 27, 2022

Welcome Home

March 27, 2022 – Fourth Sunday in Lent
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 15:11-32 [1]

The fate of the younger son in the first part of this parable is something most of us recognize. Though we may not have run off with our inheritance, we have squandered our resources and found that we have spent everything. How many of us have lost ourselves in dissolute living? I have been drunk, smoked cigarettes, and I even have a tattoo. I have felt lost and far from home. Some of us have turned our backs on our family, our homeland, or even our religious upbringing.

The younger son comes to such a state of disgrace that he goes to work feeding pigs. For a Jew, pigs are unclean; not only should you not eat them, you shouldn’t even touch them. He has become thoroughly wretched. When he finally comes to himself, recognizing the condition he is in is worse than the life of his father’s hired hands, he prepares to return home to humiliate himself in order to survive.

For addicts, it is called hitting rock bottom. We might call it the dark night of despair. It is that feeling of being so lost from who we are supposed to be that there is no further to fall. When the depth of our failure, our greed, our sin has extinguished all the lights, then we can most clearly see the light of hope and grasp for the lifeline God has held out for us all along.

In that culture, the response of the Father is unexpected. The son who has squandered his inheritance has brought shame on the family and should have been disowned. And yet, this father’s love has never burned more brightly than when the son returns. The father’s response to the prodigal’s return reveals the heart of this parable, the grace of God. As the father runs to greet him, we see the parent who has never given up hope, who kept looking to the horizon for any glimpse of the return of lost child.

The prodigal comes prepared to debase himself, to beg, not for forgiveness, but merely for the chance to become one of the servants. He rehearses what he will say, that he has become unworthy to be called a son, unworthy to be loved as part of the family. Before he can speak a word, however, his father has already embraced him. Hearing the speech of unworthiness, the father is having none of it. The finest robe, a ring for his finger, and sandals for his feet. Even more, we will feast and celebrate; “for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!”[2]

Such depth and breadth of love, compassion, and grace is offered by God. In this moment we see God’s deepest desire for us, God’s dream for all of us to return, to live again, to be found. We humans were made to be in loving relationship with God, each other, and all creation. We break our relationships; we fracture our connections and distort our view of one another. We lose ourselves in frivolous pursuits, seeking pleasures, riches, and accolades, while forsaking who we are and who we are meant to be. Yet God never gives up on us. God never loses hope. God never stops searching the horizon for a hint of our return.

It is a wonderful image of God’s love for us, but the parable doesn’t end there. We pull back from the scene of a party starting up to find the older son out in the field. He has remained faithful. He stayed by his father’s side; he HAS worked like a slave for his father all this time. If we’re honest with ourselves, we probably identify more with this child. We’ve been the good ones, we’ve been going to church for years, staying out of trouble, doing good things. Father never threw a party for us! Our jealousy and resentment keep us from being able to celebrate the return of our lost siblings.

This older son illustrates how we sometimes feel like we are being mistreated, neglected, or pushed aside when the undeserving have good things come their way. We’ve always been responsible; why does the irresponsible one get celebrated? We’ve always worked hard; why do the lazy ones who don’t want to work get things handed to them? I did it the right way; why do they get away with doing it the wrong way? We are worthy of God’s grace; why do the unworthy get it served on a silver platter?

This is where the parable shifts perspective, from the viewpoint of limited resources to the viewpoint of abundant grace in God’s kingdom. The father comes out to the older son to plead with him to join the celebration. Rather than scolding the older son, or defending the younger son, the father shifts attention to his own love and abundance. We are not running short of love, compassion, and grace here. “All that is mine is yours.”[3] The thing is, this isn’t your brother’s party; it’s mine. I am celebrating the return of one that I love, one I thought was lost forever yet has returned.

This is the good news of God’s kingdom. We human beings get lost, do things we shouldn’t, we bring shame upon ourselves and our families. We get jealous and resentful of others and of our place in the world. But God reaches out to us anyway; God seeks to reconcile our relationship, to celebrate when we return. The father absorbs the shame of the younger son’s disgrace, allowing him to return. The father seeks to pull the older son away from his jealousy and resentment, to draw him in to the celebration of love.

The parable is ultimately not about the younger son and his sin. It is not about the older son and his resentments. It is not about who deserves punishment and who deserves accolades. It is about God, and God’s endless love, God’s continual search for the lost in order to welcome them back home. God’s grace has no measure. When God gives grace to another, it doesn’t mean there is less for the rest of us. It means there is more. The parable is that mercy abolishes sin, abundance overcomes limits, and wayward children are welcomed home by loving parents.

This chapter of Luke began with the Pharisees and scribes grumbling about Jesus eating with sinners. It ends with the story of a father’s welcome of a prodigal son and a plea to the older son to join the celebration of the goodness of the father. The Pharisees and scribes, and all of us, are left with the question: will you keep standing out in the field burning with jealousy, or will you come join the welcome home party for the sinners? Amen.

[2] Luke 15:24.

[3] Luke 15:31.

Sunday, January 16, 2022

Abundance of Talents

January 16, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John 2:1-11 [1]

“So, what do you do?” That is the question that often begins a conversation with someone new. What we usually mean by that is “What do you do for a living?” or “How do you make money?” or “What little box can I put you in?”

That question can sometimes give a good impression of who a person is, at least on the surface. But it usually doesn’t go deeper than that. What do I do? I’m a minister. Right there we have a potential problem, because what you think a minister is and does may bear little resemblance to what I actually do. There is the can of worms of explaining what the United Church of Christ is, and how we compare with whatever expression of Christianity you have previous experience with. Questions come up, like how I can be a “priest” and be married with kids, etc. But even if we get through all that, you have really only scratched the surface of who I am.

I asked a different opening question once. “What would you be doing if you could do anything?” And the first person to whom I posed this question startled me with her answer. “What I do right now. I’m an archaeologist. I am helping to excavate ruins in Mexico.” Wow, right? She didn’t even have to think about it.

Maybe we should ask “What are you good at?” Except there we run into problems too, because most of us don’t consider ourselves to be very good at much of anything, at least not anything important. The thing is there are many things that we are good at, many talents that we have that may seem unimportant to the big, bad, hyper-competitive, over-glamorized world out there; yet, they are vitally important to the person who is standing in front of me, or sitting across the table from me.

I’m good at listening, and helping people know that they are loved and that they are not alone in their struggles. I have a talent for taking the ancient scriptures and making them relevant to people today. I can play guitar and sing a song that will transport you to another time and place. I have a talent for making computers and machines do my bidding.

“Now there are varieties of gifts… services… activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone” (1 Cor. 12: 4-6). Each of us is touched by the Spirit of God who knows us in the depths of our being, who gives us our talents, our gifts, and nurtures our abilities. We are disciples of the one who said to the fishermen, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people” (Mk. 1:17).

We have each been given gifts from God, talents and skills that we can use to help one another and to shape this world into something better. Perhaps you have a talent for building things. There is someone who needs you who has lost their home to a tornado, who needs a wheelchair ramp added to their deck, or who needs a new bookshelf for the family room. Perhaps you have a talent for caring for people who are sick. There are certainly plenty of people who need you, right now, if that is your gift. Perhaps you have the ability to empathize with those in prison. Perhaps you are able to listen without judgment, keep a confidence, and be the kind of companion that a person in crisis needs.

We are part of the Body of Christ, members of the household of God. We are all in this together – our friends, our neighbors, our classmates, our co-workers, and even our enemies, our homeless and hungry fellow humans, and all the living beings that cover the face of the globe. “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good” (1 Cor. 12:7). Our talents may not bring us fame and fortune, but they can help bring the members of God’s household closer into the community and closer in relationship with God.

As John’s gospel tells the story, Jesus hadn’t really done much before that wedding in Cana. Yet there he was at this wedding with his mother. She notices that the host is out of wine. This is a big problem. When the wine runs out, the guests leave, and that will embarrass the host family, possibly making them an object of ridicule in the town. Mary has a talent for recognizing a crisis of social credit, and, knowing Jesus has some special abilities, asks him to save the day.

Mary of Bethany, the sister of Martha and Lazarus, had a talent for extravagant expressions of love. They were having dinner at her home, shortly after Lazarus had been raised from the dead. I imagine there was conversation around the table that night about death. They knew the chief priests and Pharisees planned to put Jesus to death, and that they were looking for him. The writing was on the wall, and Mary knew that her time with the Lord was running short. So, in an extravagant act of love and devotion, she anointed the feet of Jesus.

Jonas Salk had a talent for chemistry. In 1953 he invented and tested a vaccine for poliomyelitis, the virus which had killed 3,000 Americans the year before. Out of an abundance of generosity, Salk never patented the vaccine or earned any money from his discovery, preferring it be distributed as widely as possible.

Martin Luther King, Jr. had a talent for organizing people. As one of the leaders of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, King organized events and marches to bring attention to the disenfranchisement of African-Americans in places like Selma, Alabama. In Selma and other southern towns, black folk were intimidated, harassed, and assaulted when they sought to register to vote. The Civil Rights movement brought national attention to the issue, resulting in the passage of the Voting Rights Act of 1965.

A friend of mine, Kate Murphy, has a talent for teaching. For twenty years at Smoky Hill High School in Aurora, Colorado, she has taught English. The characters of Shakespeare came alive, the poetry of Angelou illuminated young minds, and the novels of Steinbeck, Salinger, and Hawthorn challenged her students to think and write their best. Mostly, though, Kate has a real talent for caring, and her students know that she is rooting for them, dreaming big dreams for them, and sending them out into the world prepared and ready.

As the disciples matured, they were given power and authority, and sent out. But their new talents didn’t suddenly turn them into Jesus. They sometimes failed to cast out demons, and couldn’t always heal the sick. But when they remembered that they were given their talents for a reason, to do what God was calling them to do, they had much more success.

What made them, and makes us, capable of doing what God is calling us to do is found in Paul’s letter, “All these are activated by one and the same Spirit” (1 Cor. 12:11), the Spirit of God which is manifest in us for the common good. We have talents and abilities in abundance, given to us by God’s Holy Spirit, to help one another, to heal each other’s wounds, and to keep hope alive in the hearts of those who walk in shadows.

We are many light-beams reflecting the light of Jesus to the world. We are branches of the one tree, reaching out to offer our gifts, our talents, and our love in service to God’s people. What do you do? You use your spiritual gifts for the common good. What are you good at? You are good at being the body of Christ in the world. Amen.

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.

[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.

Sunday, September 20, 2020

Envy and Generosity

September 20, 2020

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

Matthew 20:1-16 [1]

God is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. God is generous in showing love and mercy. There is no end to the generosity of God. People, on the other hand…

Now, I know that everyone here is generous. We give to the church each week what we can. Despite everything, the offerings we have given this year are higher than last year. We are kind and welcoming to visitors and new people. We share our vegetables and love a good pot-luck. We are generous folk. We genuinely want to help our neighbors and make positive changes in our community.

There are limits, though, right? When I think about other organizations to which I might give money, I tend to think about which is more deserving. How is the money going to be used? How much goes to the mission and how much to overhead, administration, and expenses? When I give to a person on the street, I hope they will use it for food and not alcohol. In fact, I would rather buy food for that person than just give them the cash. They might waste it.

I want some control over what happens with my donation. I want to put some restrictions on how it gets used. If I give a large gift, I want something for it, I want to put my name on it. There isn’t a hospital wing in America without a donor name attached to it. Recognition is the price of my generosity. But if so, isn’t it more of a transaction than a gift? Will I give the big bucks if I don’t get something out of it for myself?

There is a selfishness in that way of looking at generosity, a need to look out for my own self-interest first. There is a sense of scarcity too, the idea that I have to look out for myself first before I can help another. If I give away what I have, I won’t have what I need for myself. It is good to be responsible, to make sure that I don’t throw good money after bad, but if there is never enough for me, there will never be enough for anyone else.

That sense of scarcity is what comes out in the parable of the envious laborers and the generous landowner. This story is not about equal pay for equal work. It’s not about fairness as we usually understand it. In fact, our first response is probably to agree with the first laborers, hired early in the morning. We’ve worked hard all day, we have “borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.”[2] Don’t we deserve more than those who were hired last?

Putting ourselves in the place of the first laborers, we too are envious of the ones hired last. They didn’t have to work all day. They probably just sat around all day, those lazy, good-for-nothings. I worked hard for what I have, not like them. And in thinking that way, we easily focus our disappointment, our frustration, and our resentment on our fellow laborers. How easily we turn on each other.

If the parable was about deservedness, then yes. The laborers hired first deserve more pay. But that is not what the story is about. The story is about the kingdom of heaven. “For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard.”[3] The kingdom of heaven is not about who deserves what. The kingdom of heaven is about God and the generosity and love of God.

So, let’s start over, and look at this a different way. The landowner gives everyone in the story work to do, and promises to pay them. Who are the laborers? It appears they are unemployed until they are offered work. Today, we might call them day-laborers. If no one hires them, they’ll go without work and without pay for the day. They all begin in the same circumstances, but by the end of the day, each has been given work to do and is being paid for that work. No one goes home empty handed today.

If we put ourselves in the place of those hired last, we get a different understanding. Having been idle all day, hoping someone would hire us, we were about to give up and go home to a hungry household with nothing to offer. At the last minute, the landowner offers us work. At the end of the day, we’re handed a full day’s wage. How generous, how amazing, how much more than we could have ever hoped for!

If we’re stuck thinking we’re the ones hired first, the story is about envy. We worry about the unfair distribution of wages; we envy those who worked less than us. We compete for the most, and struggle to accept when others receive undeserved generosity. We want to be first, and we resent when the last become first.

When we are stuck in that resentment, we fail to see that we have received what we need. We can’t recognize that we didn’t lose anything, nothing was unjustly taken from us. Those others didn’t walk away with more, they walked away with the same. We think that somehow we earned more of something, and we fail to understand that we earned it simply by needing it.

Jesus asks us to set aside our desire for equal treatment and celebrate a more generous understanding of fairness. A day’s wage will put food on the table. Each of the laborers has received according to their need, for each of them needs to feed their family. Are we unable to appreciate the good fortune of others because we have not appreciated our own good fortune? Are we not grateful that we have all that we need for today? Do we feel like we need more?

Depending on where you see yourself in the story, this parable changes from a tale of envy into one about the generosity of God. God’s generosity is more than we can imagine. God’s love and grace are not limited, God’s care and concern are not scarce, and the bounteous table of blessing has no lack of seats. The table of the kingdom is set for a feast, and every cup overflows. We are invited to share in the abounding and steadfast love of God, all of us, the first and the last, and the last no less than the first.

Let us be a generous people, giving freely of grace, kindness, and love to any who have need. God has generously blessed us and there is an endless store of blessings yet to be given away. May we learn to love with the heart of God, to let go of envy and celebrate God’s astounding generosity. 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] Matthew 20:12.

[3] Matthew 20:1.

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Don’t Climb the Fence, Use the Gate!

May 3, 2020

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

Psalm 23; John 10:1-18 [1]

OK, here it comes again - getting compared to sheep. We’re supposed to be obedient and passive, following the rules, going where we’re led, content with our lives. Well, I’m not a follower. I’m a leader! I can fly solo and I don’t need anyone to tell me what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go. I’m free and independent; I can do it on my own, thank you very much!

“Maybe if I buy a bigger TV I’ll be happier.” “One more promotion and I’ll finally get to do what I want.” “If I wear right jeans, maybe she’ll notice me.” We start to listen, and we begin to follow those voices. They are very seductive, and they sound so sincere. And then we really lose our way, because those voices confuse us. They don’t come from a place of love and community. They lead us into the dark valley, charge admission to the green pastures, and bottle up the still waters.

One of the ways in which we name one another is something we do in worship each week. We share our joys and celebrate the ones we love by saying the names. We celebrate birthdays and lift up people who are sick and who have died. We have postponed Confirmation Sunday until we can gather in person again, but on that day each of the young people being confirmed will hear their name spoken in the midst of the gathered community. In normal times, at commencement ceremonies around the world, the names of high-school and college graduates are spoken as they step forward to be recognized, and we will recognize the graduates from our church family here. On All Saints Sunday, we speak the names of those who have died in the past year, as we celebrate the lives they lived among us.

[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 Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.