Sermon, Sunday, 8 November 2009

Ruth 3:1-5, 4:13-17

The thin book of Ruth, only four chapters long, is only one of two books of the Bible with a woman’s name attached to it.  And it shows up in the lectionary only twice in the three-year cycle.  So it’s good, when she makes her appearance, to pay attention to this book.  The story of Ruth covers more than what we heard this morning.  So let me recap that story a bit.

Naomi and her husband and two sons move from Bethlehem to Moab, which is another country near to Israel.  There the sons marry Moabite women, Orpah & Ruth, and all seems well.  Until the worst of the worst happens: first Naomi’s husband dies followed by the death of both of the sons.  We aren’t told how or why these tragic events transpire, just that they do, leaving behind three widows.

Of course, to be a widow was about as low as you could get socio-economically.  The only thing worse would be to find yourself a widow without any sons, which was the situation in which Naomi, Orpah, & Ruth found themselves.  And to add to that, Naomi was a foreigner in Moab--a son-less, husband-less, foreign, woman.

Naomi makes the decision to return home, so she would at least be among her kin people.  At first, her two daughters-in-law follow her on the sad trek back to Bethlehem.  But Naomi stops and says, “Go home...go back to your people.  Make lives for yourselves there.  I have no more sons to offer you and there’s nothing for you with me.”  They argue a bit and eventually Orpah does decide to turn back and cast her fate among the Moabites, and there follows a tearful farewell. 

Ruth, however, is a different story.  She will not be budged; she insists on following Naomi.  She speaks those words to her mother-in-law that many of us have likely heard before: 
Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God.  Where you die, I will die--there will I be buried.  May the Lord do thus and so to me, and more as well, if even death parts me from you.  (Ruth 1:16b-17)
Naomi sees how determined Ruth is and gives up trying to convince her otherwise.  So the two women continue their journey on the dusty road to Bethlehem.

So we have Naomi and Ruth back in Bethlehem, still without husbands or sons.  Naturally, the life of a poor woman was as difficult then as it is now, if not even more so.  She had to work from dawn to dusk just to survive.  And one of the ways that you could survive was by gleaning.

In the painting on your bulletin covers and now on the screen, the painter Nicholas Poisson shows Ruth meeting Boaz, a kinsman of Naomi who notices Ruth from the very first time.   Ruth is an outsider; only a member of the clan because of her persistent attachment to Naomi. 

Gleaning was a way that poor people could get grain to make bread for their survival.  After reapers went through a field with their sickles bundling the sheaves of grain as they went, they naturally would miss some of the grain, which fell to the earth.  Gleaners would come after them and pick up the pieces they missed for their own use.  There were laws that allowed people like Ruth to glean and prohibited the landowner from going back to pick up what was missed.


There is a famous painting in the Orsay Museum by Jean-François Millet, painted around the time that Poisson painted his painting, called “The Gleaners.”  It’s one of my favorite paintings and a print of it hangs in our apartment.  Something about that painting speaks to me.  As you can see, gleaning is back-breaking work.  Gleaners had to bend over in the stubble that was left behind to find what they could.  This painting shows some of that and one can imagine Ruth there, picking through what was left behind to feed herself and Naomi.

This is where today’s story picks up.  As I said, Boaz has already noticed the Moabite outsider named Ruth and knows of her connection to his kinswoman, Naomi.  This is important, because the laws of inheritance required that a dead man’s property would go to his next-of-kin; property was not only land but widows and any other dependent relatives.  The trick is that even though Boaz has obviously taken a shine to Ruth and Ruth, with Naomi’s help and advice as we heard in the first part of today’s reading, works to get into Boaz’s heart; but even though Boaz is a kinsman, he’s not the next-of-kin.  That’s someone else and Boaz very cleverly get this other kinsman to give up his right to Naomi’s husband’s property and that Maobite woman.  Which nicely leaves Boaz able to take Ruth as his wife.  And we all heard how Ruth then gives birth to a son and, in the process, Naomi is taken care of.  A true rags to riches story.  Happy ending, curtain down.

Except I’m going to fast-forward us a few centuries to the point in time of the books of Ezra & Nehemiah.  Ezra & Nehemiah are from the period of the return of the exiles from Babylon.  As you probably remember, Judah was overrun by the Babylonians, Jerusalem and the Temple were destroyed, and many of the people of Judah were taken into exile into Babylon.  There they remained several decades--long enough for another generation to be born, a generation that had never seen the glory of the Temple and had never set foot in Jerusalem.  This generation grew up in Babylon, learning its language and in some cases taking spouses from the Babylonian population.

Upon their release and subsequent return to Jerusalem, a faction appeared that wanted to purify the people.  They wanted to rid themselves of foreign influences, including these outside wives.  Ezra and Nehemiah are about these attempts, including the rebuilding of the Temple from the ruins of that once noble city.  They were attempting to step backward in time.  As we all know, when looking back, things are always better, as we put on our rosy-colored glasses for our hindsight vision.  It was no different then then it is now.

The leaders at the time of Ezra & Nehemiah sought to cleanse their society and purge out all elements that didn’t seem like it fit with their ideal world.  Except this tale of Ruth, the Moabite woman, comes onto the scene.  Ruth, who not only is a foreigner who marries into the Jews, but is also the mother of a long, important line of Jewish leaders.  That’s why that final line in today’s reading is so important:  They named him Obed; he became the father of Jesse, the father of David.

David, you probably realize, is none other than King David, the best and most revered ruler that Israel had ever known.  Yes, David’s, King David’s, great-grandmother was a Moabite, the worst foreigner you could think of.  By recounting this tale during the time of Ezra & Nehemiah, somebody was saying “Not so fast with this attempt at purity.  Remember our history.  Remember our past when God intervened through a foreign woman and we got David out of it.”


The story of Ruth and its subsequent use years later does sound somewhat familiar, at least it does to me.  For example, we hear cries about immigrants from far and wide; how they’re taking over and changing our culture; how they’re taking jobs away from hard-working Americans.  Yet, we put on those rose-colored glasses when we look back and miss the fact, somehow, that all of us, unless we have Native American blood in us, came from immigrant stock at one point or other.  We forget that the Irish and Italians and Chinese and those from many other lands all suffered when they first come to this country because they were immigrants.  And we’ll leave aside for the time being the forced immigration of countless Africans before the slave trade ended.  But we forget that immigration has always been with us, as we put on those rosy-colored glasses and look back smilingly.

Those rosy-colored glasses, however they’re used for hindsight viewing, will always get you into trouble.  It’s as true now as it was during the era when the exiles returned from Babylon.  They blind us to truths that we have to face and recognize; and sometimes to occasions for celebration.

The lesson from Ruth, one of them at least, is that we are all gleaners.  We all are seeking to pick up the bits of our past that will help us survive in this day and age.  We have to rely on the kindness of the field owner as well as on the fact that the ones who own the field will follow the rules and laws that are made to help the least of these and keep us alive.

The Book of Ruth is a very thin work, just a few pages long.  But its story is one that speaks through the ages over and over again.


Top painting:  Summer, or, Boaz and Ruth by Nicholas Poisson, 1860-1864
Second painting: The Gleaners, Jean-François Millet, 1857 

Deft & Clumsy, Sermon, Sunday, 18 October 2009

Mark 10:35-45

As I pondered the passage from Mark today, I remembered a Peanuts cartoon that I had seen years ago.  It showed Snoopy, Charlie Brown’s dog, chasing after a bubble that was floating through the air.  Snoopy gently and adroitly grabs the bubble in his teeth and starts to trot back to Charlie Brown with it in his mouth but in the next to last panel, he trips and the bubble bursts.  Charlie Brown says to him, “You the only one I know who can be deft and clumsy all at the same time.”

In some ways, the Zebedee brothers, James and John, are exhibiting their own simultaneous deftness and clumsiness in these scriptures.  To understand why I say that about them though, we have to look at a bigger picture than we got in this morning’s reading because context may not be everything in scripture, but it sure is a lot.

The passage just prior to this reading, ending right at verse 34, is Jesus’ prediction of his own death and resurrection.  The sentence immediately prior to our reading for this morning is:
[Jesus] took the twelve aside again and began to tell them was was to happen to him, saying, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again. (32b-34)
Pretty direct, don’t you think?  There’s not much there to wonder about.  Jesus even gets rather specific.  And this is the third time that he’s done this as they journey to Jerusalem.  He’s told the disciples about his impending death and resurrection three times now.

And what is the first thing out of the mouths of those sons of Zebedee?  “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  It’s such a jarring disconnect that you wonder if they understood a word that Jesus said.  How did they so miss what Jesus had just said as to come up with a glaring, grating non sequitur?  Following a previous prediction of his death, at least Peter understood what Jesus was saying but then tried to deny it, getting a sharp rebuke for his efforts.  But Peter understood what Jesus was talking about, it seems.  These two, James & John, seem like they were standing there just waiting for Jesus to get done with whatever he was going on about this time so they could ask him their all important question.

Or were they?  Did they actually get it, perhaps?  Did they know what Jesus was talking about and were ready to sign on for whatever came along, but they still wanted their share of the power and the glory that was to come?

Of course, what they were asking for was a big deal.  Hosts would put the most important guests right next to themselves at a feast.  Rulers kept their most trusted advisors right beside themselves.  These sons of Zebedee wanted those positions of honor and power for themselves, as did, no doubt, most if not all of the rest of the disciples.  They wanted to be next to Jesus, even in the time beyond  his death that he had just finished predicting.

They seem all too quick and easy though in their reply that they are indeed able to drink from the same cup and be baptized with the same baptism as Jesus.  Following as it does so quickly on the prediction of his impending crucifixion, these two metaphors are clearly about death and I think the Zebedees understand that.  They aren’t being flip and Jesus goes on to affirm that they, like many of the earliest leaders of the fledgling Christian community, will suffer because of following him.

Like Snoopy, James and John are deft in their adroit handling of the precious bubble that is the way of following Jesus but clumsy in their grasp of what Jesus’ heavenly reign actually means.  I believe they are going in with eyes wide open and know full well that having given their life to their teacher they may yet be called to truly give of their life.  But they haven’t followed completely the teachings they’ve heard because they don’t fully understand for what they’re asking.

Most of us are not going to be called upon to give our lives for our faith.  There are some notable martyrs of the past century, such as Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Oscar Romero, the nuns of El Salvador, Martin Luther King Jr. and others whose names we may not know.  Most of us though will not face our death because we hold to our faith so securely as they and those early Christian leaders who faced persecution from the state did.

But still, we too are Zebedeean in our following if we don’t stop and realize just what deaths are required of us, if indeed we are to follow the teachings of Jesus and truly claim him as the Christ.  For we must die to this world and its ways in order to follow.  And we must die to our selves in order to follow.

The world and all its trappings is an glittery attraction that draws us into materialism.  If we follow the way of the world, we embrace greed and denial.  It offers us comfort and security.  It beckons us with offers of “more,” “new,” and “improved.”  It tells us that what we have is never enough.  Our deaths, because of our faith, are to this world and a renunciation of what it offers.  If we drink from the cup that Jesus drinks from, we will die to this world and face away from the plastic offerings that tempt us.

Likewise, if we become so self-focussed that we turn away from the plight of others, we are being as blind about Jesus’ teachings as those early disciples were.  We must die to self-absorption and the inflation of our egos.  If we care only for ourselves and ignore that which is going on all around us, we need to find ourselves on the journey with Jesus to Jerusalem.  If we are to be baptized with the same baptism that Jesus faced, we must die to ourselves.

But we’ll be just like the sons of Zebedee if we think by doing so, we’ll get special considerations.  If we’re deft enough to accept the deaths we must face in ourselves because of our faith, but still clumsily seek out special favors or a power boost for our prayer requests, we’ve missed the mark as surely as James & John did two thousand years ago.

Interesting, this cycle from Mark begins and end with the healings of blind men starting back in chapter 8 and moving through to the end of chapter 10, immediately following today’s passage.  I don’t think that’s a coincidence.  I think Mark, in putting together his gospel, knew exactly what he was doing in saying that we all have to open our eyes and see, really see, the truth about following Jesus.  Yes, we must drink from the same cup and be baptized with the same baptism in order to follow.  And we must do so with few expectations and little to gain in a worldly way from it.

Blessed by Animals

Dear Friends,


The animal blessing service that we held last Saturday gave me pause for thought. Clearly there was a lot of energy about our newest endeavor, from both inside and outside our congregation.

As we gathered on the lawn of the church and spoke to people passing by about their pets or animal companions, we were interacting with a community...our community.  There was a lot of traffic because of the street festival going on just a few short blocks away.  Several blessings occurred on the spur of the moment; dog walkers passing by just stopped in when invited to get their dogs blessed.

In the process of having the honor to bless these wonderful creatures, I realized that what my friend Alexandra Child wrote to me was true.  (Alexandra graciously sent me the animal blessing service that she had previously put together and was that on which I based our service.)  Alexandra wrote that she comes at animal blessings from the viewpoint that it is the animals who bless us.

As I knelt besides pooches of all sizes and gazed at pictures of cats (even blessing one cat via a cell phone picture) I realized the love that passes between humans and their companions is unadulterated and very often pure; especially from the animal companion to the human.

Truly they bless us with all that they do and are for us.  And not just our companions, but all the animals of God’s creation.

Give thanks and praise to God for any & all animals in your life.

Peace,
Gerry


photo © Allen Foster
text © Gerry Brague


Sermon, Sunday, 11 October 2009

Mark 10:17-31

Princess Diana is quoted as saying, “They say it is better to be poor and happy than rich and miserable, but how about a compromise like moderately rich and just moody?”  I think that explains a lot about today’s gospel reading from Mark.

It’s so hard for us to give up possessions, isn’t it?  Even for the tradeoff to be poor and happy; or the bigger tradeoff to get into heaven.  This gospel lesson makes me uncomfortable.  Because even though I have never considered myself rich, even moderately so, in comparison to much of the world, I am so much more like the rich man turning away in grief than I am anyone else in this story.

Our possessions, our wealth, brings us happiness and security.  We surround ourselves with things in our quest for joy not realizing at times that those very things are what prevent joy from embracing us.  With our fortresses of material possessions and financial security, we can scarcely move at times, stifling any attempts we may make to follow Jesus on the journey that was referred to at the beginning of the passage from Mark.

So we, like the man in the reading, throw ourselves at Jesus’ feet hoping for an easy answer.  I really don’t think that man was looking for an easy compliment in doing that.  I believe he, like us, truly wanted to know what else he needed to do to get into heaven.  He was a good man and Jesus knew that.  A touching, poignant portion of the passage is when Jesus looked at him and loved him.  It’s one of the most direct statements about Jesus in scripture.  He looked at him and loved him. 

Jesus saw and knew what was going on.  In spite of that man’s grief Jesus loved him to death, literally.  Because he was calling on that man to give everything away.  And notice that Jesus didn’t say sell everything and give the proceeds to me so that I can continue my ministry.  No, indeed, the money that the man would realize were he to sell his possessions was to go to the poor.  And then he could come and follow Jesus.

Unlike Princess Diana, Jesus doesn’t really allow for compromises.  There’s no gray area when it comes to giving.  It’s all or nothing.

In the movie “Brother Sun, Sister Moon,” which tells the story of a certain man named Francis who lived in Assisi some 800 years ago, there is a pivotal scene in which Francis, born into a wealthy cloth merchant family, renounces his wealth by stripping off his clothes in the town square and heading off into the mountains to begin a life of poverty and service.  Francis did what the rich man in the gospel seemingly could not do.  And what most of us seemingly cannot do.

But….but I have to wonder.  The gospel writer Mark leaves the end of this particular story open with a question mark, I think.  Yes it said the rich man went away grieving, but it doesn’t actually say whether the man did do as Jesus said or not.  Certainly we can allow him his grief, in giving up all that he possesses.  That’s a mighty task and even as unrich as I am, if asked to do the same thing, I would grieve too. 

But I keep coming back in my thoughts to that simple statement that Jesus looked at the man and loved him.  And that gives me the strength to guess at an answer to that question mark at the end of the story.  Because a love that strong is mighty powerful and can cause you to do all sorts of things you wouldn’t do otherwise.

Not too long from now, we’ll regroup ourselves for one of our monthly conversations and this time our conversation is going to revolve around stewardship.  Stewardship, meaning what we do with the resources that are put in our charge; our wealth, in other words.

But don’t limit yourselves when you think about your wealth; it’s not just about money or what your bank statements look like.  Because true wealth goes deeper than money.  True wealth, as we all know, involves family and friends and faith.  True wealth is about the talents we possess and the abilities we have innately within us.

Perhaps that’s the part of the rich man that Jesus loved--his abilities and talents for following the law and for leading an upright life.  Jesus knew that if the man was going to follow him on the journey before him, he couldn’t be encumbered by the possessions that held him down.  Jesus wanted his full wealth...his real wealth on the road with him.

So when you think of stewardship this afternoon, don’t leave here grieving.  Go away with joy, grateful for the resources, all the resources, that are in your care.

The Messiness of Wisdom


Dear Friends,
According to dictionary.com, wisdom is defined as “knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action; sagacity, discernment, or insight.”

Wisdom is more than intelligence. Wisdom uses our native intelligence to make decisions that are right and good. Wisdom keeps us from foolishness, according to the author of Ephesians. And wisdom is what Solomon sought when God asked him in a dream what it was he most wanted.

For people of the Christian faith, wisdom is a gift from God that is used to bring our world ever closer to God’s realm. Wisdom thus involves not just thought but action.

In worship on Sunday, I used a familiar image when I spoke of wisdom: Rodin’s sculpture The Thinker. But that’s only part of the story of wisdom. After one thinks, one is moved to action based on one’s thoughts.

As Paula Poceicha, our Regional Minister for Congregational Care, pointed out during the Invitation to Communion, wisdom can be messy. It’s chaotic. Wisdom is not linear like intelligence. Wisdom does not necessarily go neatly from point A to point B to point C.

We prefer in our daily lives the straightforwardness and sedentary nature of intelligence. With wisdom, we are moved to action in the midst of a world that doesn’t make sense.

Wisdom eschews the greed and denial of the world, opting instead for justice and getting our hands dirty with the work to which God calls us.

Wisdom is indeed chaotic as doing the right thing is not always clear and easy. Wisdom can lead us down paths we’d rather not travel and may even make us unpopular. Wisdom is engaging the intelligence of the world and bending it and turning it to become wise and discerning.

Seek wisdom; each and every day. Be ready for the chaos and the confusion it brings.

Peace,
Gerry

text © Gerry Brague
photo © Wally Gobetz, wallyg on flickr used by Creative Commons license

Sermon, Sunday, 16 August 2009

1 Kings 2:10-12, 3:3-14 Ephesians 5:15-20

Suppose you were granted one wish, for what would you ask? I know that genies in lamps regularly allow three wishes, but this is an irregular lamp purchased at the seconds outlet and you only get one wish. Would you ask for money? For fame? For health? For power? Or perhaps, thinking on a bigger scale, you’d ask for world peace. Or for an end to any number of the terrible diseases that are all around us. Or for poverty and homelessness and hunger to cease.

I’m willing to wager that many people in our society today might ask for such things; either the self motivated or other-motivated wishes. Solomon, the son of King David who was given the kingdom upon David’s death, was indeed granted the opportunity to ask for something and, as we know, he chose wisdom. And along with building the Temple in Jerusalem, Solomon is known for his wisdom.

There are those who would argue that only a wise person would ask for wisdom, something of a circular argument, if you ask me. But Solomon, we heard, got it both ways: because he chose wisdom, he got riches and honor throughout his life.

Solomon said he chose wisdom because he was so young. And that’s likely true that he was young: he may have been about 20 years old when he became king. Such a young age to inherit a realm. And having to follow his father, David, the great king who made Israel what it was during its glory days. Not to mention having to deal with a jealous older brother who expected the throne as his and with his father’s several enemies still hovering around. With all the intrigue swirling about him, it’s no wonder that he asked to be discerning and wise.

Think for a moment about the difference between wisdom and intelligence. Is there any? Are intelligent people automatically wise? I don’t think they are. I wouldn’t be surprised, for example, to find out that our former president Richard Nixon was intelligent. But was he wise? Did he rule wisely? Some might ask the same thing about another former president, Bill Clinton. In fact, many of our world leaders in this era would likely be described as intelligent but I find wisdom is at a premium.

It’s interesting to note that in the Ephesians passage for this morning that the opposite of wisdom isn’t stupidity but foolishness: Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil. So do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. (5:15-17) Ephesians’ author points to an important distinction between wisdom and intelligence; there is a relational and ethical aspect to wisdom that is not ascribed to intelligence. If we are wise, we seek to understand God’s will. It’s ongoing in its relationship as we attempt to use the intelligence we do have for the good.

Maintaining wisdom is a tricky business. Solomon struggled with it throughout his life and at the end he ended up looking fairly foolish by worshiping the gods of his many foreign wives. Though he sought wisdom as the fresh-faced young man we found in today’s reading, sustaining it through to the end was something he was unable to do. Because in worshiping other gods, in turning his back on the God of Israel who had sustained him and brought him the riches and honor that came as bonus gifts with the wisdom, he showed his foolishness and lack of willingness to seek out wisdom.

I keep hearing that we have the capacity to end hunger. We are intelligent enough to do that. We have the intelligence, I pray, to turn around global warming and stop the destruction of our planet. But sadly I’m not certain we are wise enough; because greed and denial seem always to be entering in and preventing us from actually doing the difficult work necessary to do that which is needed.

As a culture we have strained our relation with the divine, much as Solomon did at the end of his long life. Mind you, please note that I did not say “as a nation;” in spite of the vocal protestations of many of a more conservative stripe, I don’t believe we are or should be a Christian nation. But I wonder if those of us who do proclaim ourselves to be Christian (to keep it in the family) are actually wise. Are there among us, those who seek the will of God in daily dealings and each decision? Is that something each of us does? Do we seek wisdom each and every day? Or do we ask for it, assume we’ve got it, tuck it into our purse or back pocket and then forget it?

We can’t rely on our intelligence alone. I’ve already raised the examples of what happens when we’re intelligent without the moral and relational aspects of wisdom. It’s no different if we’re a regular old Joe or Jane and making day-to-day decisions that seemingly affect us and only perhaps a small circle of family and friends or if we’re one of those world leaders whose choices affects dozens and dozens of others.

Because we fool ourselves if we think the options we choose affect only a small circle around us. Behind each decision we make, because of the relational aspect of wisdom, are the lives of many others we don’t know. A theologian or philosopher, whose name I cannot recall, once said that the course of history rests on whether he decides to have a cup of tea or not.

Each moment in our lives we are making decisions and as people of faith, we are called to make them wisely; remembering our relationships, with God, with each other and recognizing the outcomes of those decisions. It’s very easy to fall into lockstep with a culture that is so firmly grounded in greed and denial, forgetting that our choices affect others, many of them much worse off than we are and opting for our own gain over the good of others.

Wisdom is portrayed as a female figure in other Hebrew Bible writings; a woman who calls out for believers to follow her. She says:
“Come, eat of my bread
and drink of the wine I have mixed.
Lay aside immaturity, and live,
and walk in the way of insight.”(Proverbs 9:5-6)
That is true wisdom, laying aside the immaturity that holds us back and walking in the way of true insight. Be as the young Solomon was and seek out wisdom, not once or twice, but each and every moment.

(Photo by Davic from Flickr http://www.flickr.com/photos/davic/3083793614/; Painting by Paolo Veronese, "Allegory of Wisdom and Strength," c. 1580)

Sermon, Sunday, 2 August 2009

John 6:24-35

I don’t know about you, but I find it all too tempting and much too easy to spiritualize Jesus’ words especially as found in the book of John. We like to think that there’s something transcendent about what Jesus has to say. We’re looking for higher meaning. In fact, if you do a quick survey of the chapters preceding the one we heard this morning we find some rather otherworldly things going on. There’s Jesus speaking with Nicodemus about being born again or born of the Spirit turning the earthy, messy event of giving birth into a spiritual one. Then, shortly after that, Jesus has a conversation with a Samaritan woman at a well and speaks of living water. Again, he uses an image of water--splashing, wet water--and turns it into something else; something ethereal. And then in this morning’s reading, Jesus proclaims himself the bread of life; and once again we have a very basic staple from the earth, the stuff of life itself, bread, and talks about it in spiritual ways.

Jesus doesn’t really help things much by initiating what we call communion by using bread to speak of his body a little later on. We call communion a holy meal, sometimes even a feast, but when you stop to think about it, it’s not much of a meal, none-the-less a feast. It’s a little piece of bread; a tiny bit of flour and yeast and water mixed together; hardly enough to assuage anyone with a stomach-growling hunger who may approach the Table. By instituting this “meal” with bread, he further spiritualizes this very common commodity.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Because it’s dangerous to think of Jesus or his teaching just in spiritual terms. In doing so, we run the risk of falling into a trap of saying to those who suffer right here, right now that their reward will be in heaven or that they’ll have an extra star in their heavenly crown or some such unhelpful comment. By separating the spiritual from the physical, and elevating the spiritual over the physical, we just might miss the suffering that is going on all around us.

And there’s not really any reason to do so. If I may, I’d like to back up in John’s gospel again, but only going back a few verses this time rather than to the chapters I mentioned earlier. The start of chapter six, almost immediately preceding our reading this morning about living bread, is about real live bread which Jesus uses to feed five thousand. The narrative just prior to Jesus’ words this morning have Jesus using a young boy’s five loaves and two fishes to fill the stomachs of some very hungry people. Only the story of Jesus walking across the water to reach the boat the disciples were in intersects the two sections of the gospel about bread.

Bishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa spoke words that have echoes in our gospel reading today. He said: “I don't preach a social gospel; I preach the Gospel, period. The gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is concerned for the whole person. When people were hungry, Jesus didn't say, ‘Now is that political or social?’ He said, ‘I feed you.’ Because the good news to a hungry person is bread.”* Tutu recognizes that there is no split between our physical hunger and our spiritual hunger. He sees in Jesus one who reacts to people’s needs where they are and who they are.

Given the proximity of the feeding of the 5,000 story to our scripture for this morning, it is somewhat surprising that the big request that the crowd had for Jesus was for a sign that he was actually from God. “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you?” (6:30) they asked and then pointed out that manna appeared to their ancestors in the wilderness when they were hungry. Didn’t they just receive their fill of bread and fish? Didn’t they see that miracle happen right in front of them? Here they are chasing after a beleaguered Jesus only to require another sign.

I’m not certain I would have had Jesus’ patience because he just gives them the answer, “I’m the bread you’re looking for, the bread of life.”

It’s not surprising that manna comes up in this passage; manna was bread from heaven. John, our gospel writer, would have known that as would his original audience. The connection would have been immediate and strong for both author and hearer. Especially considering that by the time John’s gospel was written, the last of the four, a ritual of a holy meal had certainly taken hold; the holy meal that I’ve already mentioned that we call communion, the Eucharist, the Lord’s supper. A holy meal with an emphasis on bread. More than that, though, the early church had a sense of a feast; a common gathering for a meal that was in itself holy and sacred. This was a meal when the poorest of the community shared with the richest at table, breaking bread, holding in common a meal, the meal.

Manna comes from heaven and John reminds us that Jesus does too. Manna fed hungry people lost in the wilderness and Jesus fed a large gathering of people, out far from towns, from places they could get food. And Jesus offered himself as bread, bread once again from heaven. Bread for those wandering and hungry in their own wildernesses.

Yes, it is dangerous to overspiritualize all of this, but on the other hand there is a danger of ignoring the spiritual elements. It’s a balance between the earthy and the heavenly. The missionary and evangelist D.T. Niles sums it up when he says “Christianity is one beggar telling another beggar where he found bread.”*

Indeed we are all beggars, seeking bread, living bread, to appease a growling stomach that won’t let go, that won’t let us stop seeking the slaking of our hunger, our deep, deep hunger for the bread Jesus provides.

* Both quotes were found on the United Church of Christ lectionary website, Samuel (http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/august-2-2009-eighteenth-sunday.html)

Photo by John Cordes, used by permission
(c) Gerry Brague, 2 August 2009