Gathering

A Miraculous Feast

shelliwilliams Uncategorized , ,

Lectionary Text:  John 6: 1-21 (Proper 12B)

After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. 2A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. 3Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. 4Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. 5When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” 6He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. 7Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” 8One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, 9“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” 10Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. 11Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. 12When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” 13So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. 14When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”

15When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself. 16When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, 17got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. 18The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. 19When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. 20But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” 21Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.

It was early in the morning and the sun had just begun to peak through the window above where he slept.  He really hadn’t gotten that much sleep.  The excitement and expectation was just too overwhelming.  It hadn’t been until right before he had gone to bed that his parents had finally given him permission to go.  He had been begging them for days.  He didn’t think his father really understood.  That seemed odd to him, given the fact that his father was so involved and so well-respected at the temple.  After all, his father went to the temple every day and was close to God.  That’s really what he wanted.  He wanted to be close to God, to feel God, to know God.  And all the townspeople had been talking about this man who was so close to God, who could show you how to be close to God.  He wanted to hear him.

So, he sprang out of bed and hurriedly put on his clothes.  He didn’t want to be late.  He wanted to get a good seat near the upper part of the hill so that he could hear.  He wanted to be near this man they called Jesus.  Just as he was running through the house, his mother called him back.  He rolled his eyes.  He did NOT want to be late.  He turned around.  His mother was standing there with a basket covered with a cloth.  She had packed him a lunch. He didn’t really feel that he needed a lunch.  He just wanted to hear what Jesus was going to say.  But he would humor her.  Maybe a lunch would be a good thing.  He took the lunch and returned her hug.  And then as he stepped out of the doorway and began to walk toward the lakeside beach, he glanced in the basket.  Hmm…five loaves and two fishes…that would be good…it was just enough for him.  It was all he would need.

When he got to the beach, there were already people gathering.  He thought he saw someone that could be this man Jesus through the crowd.  And then the crowd started moving, away from the beach and up the mountain side.  He could feel the cool air coming off of the lake as they went up the mountain.  It felt good.  Near the top of the mountain, Jesus sat down on a rock and his disciples sat down around him.  The small boy pushed through the crowd and positioned himself on a rock.  What a great spot!  He could see Jesus.  He could hear Jesus.  He was going to find out how to be close to God! He was with Jesus!

This is, of course, a familiar Scripture to us.  Many of us have read it since our childhood.  We have seen paintings and stained glass and countless other renditions that depict this story.  It is an amazing story to us, probably one of our favorites.  Apparently, this story was liked by everyone when it was first told, also.  Because it is not told just once, not twice, not just three times; rather, this story is the only gospel miracle that is told in its fullness in all four renditions of the Gospel. Apparently, this is a story to which we need to pay attention.  Because not only is it a story about Jesus; it is the story of a crowd.  It is a story of us.  We are the ones sitting on the grass, witnessing these signs, and receiving food from Jesus.

But what we end up concentrating on is the miracle that Jesus obviously did, taking a small amount of food and feeding an entire mountain of people.  But somewhere along the way, we forget that Jesus did not make something out of nothing.  This was not a magic trick.  We forget about the small boy, unnoticed, uncounted (remember that the 5,000 would have just been the men!), a small boy who just wanted to get closer to God.

Think back—barley loaves and fish—the cheaper food for the poor.  Barley was very inexpensive and for these communities surrounding the Lake of Galilee, fish would have been plentiful.  This was all the boy had.  It might have been a real sacrifice for his mother to pack that lunch at all. But soon after they reach the far side of the lake, he sees the disciples moving through the crowd.  They seemed to be looking for something.  And then he heard one of them ask someone if they knew of anyone in the crowd who had some food.  The little boy looked up.  “Oh”, he said, standing and running toward the disciple, “I do.  I have brought food.  Take it.  Take my food.  I want Jesus to have what I have brought.”  The boy had been right.  It was just enough.

Now at the risk of destroying your view of this story, notice that it doesn’t say that the boy’s lunch was the ONLY food.  It doesn’t say that the rest of the crowd did not have lunch.  Commentators have suggested that maybe some people in the crowd had things tucked away, holding it back to make sure that they had enough.  After all, do you really think more than 5,000 people would travel on foot and show up for a day-long extravaganza with no food?  Perhaps, then the miracle lies in the fact that the young boy was the first.  He was the first to offer his food, the first to offer all he had, the first to demonstrate an understanding of the abundance that God’s offers.  The fact that everyone eventually ended up with food may mean, in fact, that his generosity and openness to giving inspired others to do the same.  Generosity and caring about others became contagious.  It moved through the crowd.  You’ve experienced that, experienced those times when the spirit of generosity is pervasive.  And that IS a miracle.  Jesus WAS the one who performed that miracle.

I want to be like that little boy.  I want to, without reservation, willingly and joyfully offer what I have to Christ.  I want to bring what I have to the table of life that all might be able to share in it.  But I am like many on that hill that day and probably many of you.  I hold back, afraid that there will not be enough and offer only what I think I can do without—my spare time, my spare change, even my spare thoughts.  We are taught by our society to live our lives with an assumption of scarcity, assuming that there will not be enough when it is all said and done and so we hold back, rationalizing our reserves and hoarding our gifts that God has so generously shared with us.  We give in to the fear of not having enough. 

But that little boy looked at Jesus and saw abundance, rather than scarcity.  His faith gave him the ability to see that God had provided for him and would continue to do so and so he offered what he had with joy and extravagant generosity.  Oh, I want to be like that little boy. 

When you get to the end of this familiar Gospel story, Jesus leaves the stage.  He withdraws once again to the mountain alone.  And the crowd and we are left behind.  And as the sun sets on the scene, there is an empowering absence that descends upon us, a spirit of extravagant generosity and radical hospitality.  Can you feel it, that almost palpable spirit moving through the crowd?  Jesus has shown us what to do and now it is ours to actually do.  Meeting Jesus means that we have said we are willing to let our lives be changed.  Jesus did not come to us just to be a miracle-worker.  Jesus is not a vending machine-like character that gives us everything we think we need.  Jesus came, rather, to initiate the building of the Kingdom of God and calls us to follow.

And, as if that weren’t enough, there were leftovers!   So, Jesus tells the disciples to gather up all these fragments and save them.  Nothing is wasted.  Nothing is discarded.  Every morsel is important. Every morsel is part of this ongoing banquet.  Jesus is always preparing for the next crowd that might need something.  The story ends with Jesus still meeting the needs of each and every one, even those that might show up a little late, even those that are yet to come. The story is right—this WAS a miracle!   

If you can’t feed a hundred people, then just feed one. (Mother Teresa)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The Light-Gatherers

shelliwilliams Advent , , ,

Scripture Text: Luke 3: 1-6 (Advent 2C)

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, 2during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. 3He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, 4as it is written in the book of the words of the prophet Isaiah, “The voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight. 5Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough ways made smooth; 6and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’”

Well, we know it’s Advent when John the Baptist shows up again!  Most of us don’t really know what to do with John.  After all, he was actually a little bizarre.  John was this wild wilderness man who wore animal skins and made his meals off of locusts and honey and whatever else he could find in the wild.  He was actually a little radical, preaching what could probably be considered hellfire and brimstone sermons to convince people of his message.  OK, maybe John’s “bedside manner” had a little to be desired.  Yes, John was the one who never quite conformed to the way of this world, to acceptable society, but rather chose to focus solely on what it was God was calling him to do.

John never claimed to be more than he was.  His only mission was to point to the one who was coming, the One that would BE God in our midst, the One that would baptize us with water and the very Spirit of God.  So, though his preaching was often fiery and overly-zealous and maybe even a little off-putting, John was a Light-Gatherer.  Light-Gatherers do more than just look for the Light.  They do more than follow the Light.  Light-Gatherers walk into the Light, gather it in, and reflect it off of themselves.  Jesus taught that his disciples and his followers were called to be a Light to the world.  That is what John did.  He was a Light-Gatherer.

Creation is full of light-gatherers.  You remember photosynthesis, don’t you?  It’s the process by which plants take in light and transform it into energy and growth.  That’s probably a really good lesson for us.  We, too, are called to be Light-Gatherers, to take in the Light and transform it into energy and growth for ourselves and for the world.  Then we are called to reflect that Light, the Light of God, into the world.  We are called to be a beacon, a Light-Gatherer of the Light of God.  So, in this season of Advent, go toward the Light but don’t stop there.  Gather the Light and reflect that Light to the world.  Be a Light-Gatherer.

Sometimes our light goes out, but is blown again into instant flame by an encounter with another human being.  Each of us owes the deepest thanks to those who have rekindled this inner light. (Albert Schweitzer) 

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

Gather Us In

shelliwilliams Uncategorized , , , ,

Scripture Passage:  Psalm 107: 1-3, 17-12 (Lent 4B Psalter)

1O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; for his steadfast love endures forever. 2Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, those he redeemed from trouble 3and gathered in from the lands, from the east and from the west, from the north and from the south…

17Some were sick through their sinful ways, and because of their iniquities endured affliction;18they loathed any kind of food, and they drew near to the gates of death. 19Then they cried to the Lord in their trouble, and he saved them from their distress;20he sent out his word and healed them, and delivered them from destruction. 21Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love, for his wonderful works to humankind. 22And let them offer thanksgiving sacrifices, and tell of his deeds with songs of joy.

This psalter is one of thanksgiving, thanking God for the promise of deliverance and for deliverance and redemption itself.  We left out some of the other trouble (in the verses that were skipped) but these words deal with illness and distress.  It also reminds us of the reading about the snakes in Numbers and God’s deliverance and healing.

I love verse 2 and the image of God gathering in the redeemed from all the lands, from east and west and north and south.  It reminds us that though there are many ways that we are separated from God—illness, desperation, our own transgressions—there are even more ways TO God.  And maybe the words of this Psalm are meant to remind us of that.  After all, we are human.  We tend to get mired in where we are.  When things are going well, we forget to reach for God.  And often when the darkness descends upon us, we often deem ourselves “not ready” to do the reaching, as if we need to “clean our lives up a bit” before we let God back into them. 

Whichever applies to us at any given time, we somehow identify with “some who were sick”.  Other translations read “some were fools and took rebellious paths.”  In some ways, that’s even more uncomfortable for us.  After all, we can blame “sickness” on something else.  But when we play the fool, it somehow is laid completely on us.  But, regardless, God redeems.  God ALWAYS redeems.  We don’t have to wait until we’re better, or cleaned up, or “prepared” to let God in.  God is just there, always ready to either deliver, redeem, or just walk us home.

But the Psalm continues.  The Lord sees and knows our pain, our distress.  God delivers us, sometimes picking us up and setting us on our feet headed toward the way that God calls us to go.  And then we give thanks.  We give thanks individually and corporately.  The whole community rejoices with thanksgiving and retells what God has done with great joy.  (That sounds like the Communion liturgy, doesn’t it?)

Worshipping together…that used to be so easy.  You just got up early (and once a year even an hour earlier!!!)  and went to church and planted yourself in a fairly comfortable pew (probably the very same pew each Sunday) and you did your thing.  But the last year that has changed.  We have been forced as a community to revisit what worship is.  I think (and, I have to say, I even hope) that it will change the way we do “church”, the way we look at “church” forever.  For most of my life, church has probably been somewhat inconvenient.  There’s been a wrestling with the surrounding culture for “Sunday” and “church” has had to increasingly share its day with professional sports events and, increasingly, other activities. (Like we forgot that our Jewish brothers and sisters have ALWAYS shared a day!) So, churches have entered the realm of competing for an audience.  (Ugh…THAT’S not good!  That’s getting a little too close to that merchandising God thing again!)

Maybe the pandemic has finally made us realize that we have been asking focusing on the wrong thing.  Corporate worship is not about attendance; it is not about measuring success on how many “butts are in the pews”, so to speak; it is, as the Psalm says, about gathering, gathering in from all directions, gathering in those that are hurting, those that have given up, and those that think they have everything figured out.  And gathering involves opening—opening up the doors, opening up the streaming services, opening through Zoom connections. 

This Lenten season as we wander in the wilderness of not only a journey to the cross, but also a journey through a pandemic, a journey that is sometimes a lonely one, let us focus on gathering.  Let us focus on ways to gather, ways to worship, ways to be together, and then find the myriad of ways that we can tell people what God has done and is doing in our lives.  Maybe if we shift our focus to “keeping Sabbath” rather than “going to church”, we will discover a God who has been there all along—wherever we are present.      

Human beings may separate things into as many piles as we wish—separating spirit from flesh, sacred from secular, church from world.  But we should not be surprised when God does not recognize the distinctions we make between the two.  Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars. (Barbara Brown Taylor)

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli