The Smile Experiment

   Ephesians 4:25-5:2      August 12, 2012     

   

For a few weeks, I have been doing an exercise which I like to call the “Smile Experiment.”   When I am out in public, and have an occasion to intersect with another person, I deliberately look them in the eyes, smile, and even sometimes, say hello.   

Now, I know that this is New England, and there is a particular shyness around this kind of thing--greeting a stranger. It’s not just New England. Last Monday, I declared “Official Smile at a Stranger Day” on my facebook page, and my Canadian friend in Alberta (who is a woman of the cloth, but Episcopalian immediately replied that greeting a stranger on the street is unnerving, and my Aunt Helen in Texas said it’s Smile at a Stranger Day every day in Texas.  I only had five people like the idea, and pretty much the comments were between my Canadian friend and Texan aunt about why Canadian’s are startled by friendly smiles. 

Suffice it to say,  It’s been interesting to observe people’s reactions.  

For example, on my morning walk (without the dogs--I forgot to say my experiment had to have no distractions.  My dogs are so adorable that usually people will smile at them or look at their goofy smiles. Not that I am biased, but it’s true.)

So back to my morning dog-less walk.   I walk along a greenway that follows the turns and curves of the Mystic River.   I pass a good many joggers and walkers on the path.    The first hurdle is to actually catch someone’s eye. It’s not as easy as you think--we are all programmed, I think, to pretend not to see one another as we pass each other by--probably out of respect for the mutual self-consciousness we have about passing by stranger without greeting them, so we pretend not to see one another.  It’s a strong urge--and I have to even fight it within my own smiley self.   

Upon successful eye contact, I have to be quick with the smile, because I figure that I have about a millisecond before the person jerks their eyes away to focus on the sidewalk.  After the smile, my gut tells me on whether to say hello or not.  Usually after having recognized someone with a smile, the startled person hurries along, but sometimes I get a “hi” in; and sometimes, actually most of the time, the smile is returned.  And so is the greeting.  

So, why the experiment? 

Last week, Debbi talked about the movie theatre massacre in Aurora, and in spite of the terror and the unspeakable horror of that event, how random acts of kindness began to bubble up.  Strangers were kind to strangers, sharing popsicles and buying dinner for others, and more.   Then, while many of us were siting in church last Sunday,  there was the attack on the Sikh temple in Wisconsin, generated by a young man with ties to neo-Nazism.   Both of these shootings were premeditated--they weren’t random acts of violence, but perpetrated by two people seemingly on the fringe of society with definite deep seated issues and illnesses.  

And I have been thinking, you know, life is too short, too unpredictable, too precious to think of people that I don’t know as strangers.  We spend too much time regarding others as Other, instead of recognizing the humanity in each soul our life crosses by.   So, I decided to start being more deliberate and intentional in recognizing those I pass by as living, breathing, beloved children of God with promises and disappointments and stories as big and special and poignant as the stories I carry with me, in my internal universe.    Because, I really and truly and fervently believe that the more we see one another as sisters and brothers in this our earth home, that the energy generated can only help our broken and bruised world.   

And, as someone who embraces the identity of Christian, I am called to live a life that is different, and yes, countercultural.   

Our text today is calling a particular church in Ephesus to a code of conduct, because they are “members of one another.” Paul exhorts the Ephesians to only use words that are useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.”  

May your words be a grace... 

Imitate God... Live love the way Christ did...  

It’s a beautiful text, reminding the Ephesians of who they are , and why they are.  

Or, as one of my colleagues remarked, Paul is basically saying, "Act like Jesus and don't be a jerk" 

Or, rather, as Brian McLaren, Christian author and blogger,  said in his HuffPo piece, “Fertile Summer for Violence,

"We are increasingly faced with a choice, I believe, not between kindness and hostility, but between kindness and nonexistence."

The stakes are high - Kindness as not just "nice", it is life or death. For churches, for our nation, for the world....

Life or death. We are called to take Love to the streets in our everyday lives. But it’s not easy.  I guess that’s obvious.  I know you won’t believe it, but I am extremely introverted.  I am happy as a clam to keep to myself, read a book, daydream, be quiet...rather than put myself out there. I also rather enjoy cursing at bad drivers when I am out in traffic (you already know that about me.)

So I have to push myself, with this kindness thing, because I truly believe we are called to share the Love we experience with others--in our actions and the way in which we live our lives. 

The other day, I was in the grocery store to quickly pick up just three things.  It was pretty quiet, so I actually got in line with a real checker.  There was a couple in front of me, and they just had a bottle of water to pay for.  The checker, however, was taking her time with the order, and the three of them were bantering back and forth, and I was thinking, come on already!   I got a little irritated, and when it was my turn, I was brusque and didn’t look at her, and then a little whisper in my heart said, “What about your smile experiment?”   and I sighed. I looked up at her, and when she handed me my receipt, I looked her in the eyes, and smiled, and said Thank You. Have a really good day. 

And you know what? She smiled back. 

And in that moment, a spark of Christ-love energy was born into the world.   

Jesus said that whenever we give a cup of cold water to a stranger, visit the prisoner in jail, clothe the naked, listen to a small child, we are loving him. 

I would propose that Jesus, if he were here now, in our world, would add to that list, “every time you smile or recognize a stranger as a fellow traveler in life, you have seen Me.”

There is a hindi word, “Namaste”. Many of you know the meaning, especially if you have been to a yoga class, because they all seem to end with this word.   When you say, “namaste” to someone, you are saying, The God in me sees the God in You.”   For me, a smile, a greeting, is my namaste--The God in me sees the God in You.”

On Thursday evening, I took the dogs out for their late afternoon walk.  I had plenty of time, so we spent about an hour wandering through the neighborhood.  At one point, I looked up, and there was this tiny, wizened, snow white haired woman leaning against her trash barrels, looking at me. Not the dogs, ME.   I looked away, and looked back again, and she locked in on my eyes.   She smiled at ME, and waved, and said hello. 

In that smile, I saw God, smiling at me.  

Amen.

Chew

Chew

Rev. Karla Jean Miller   August 19, 2012    Proper 15B

I had a friend, once, who hated to eat. 

Seriously.  

It wasn’t that he had issues with food, or suffered from any disorders, like anorexia or bulemia (which are horrible and destructive and wrenching).

He just didn’t care about food, and wished that all we needed for sustenance was just to take a pill that had all the nutrients and vitamins and protein and whatever else to keep his body fueled.   

Seriously.   

I marveled at him, and in a way, felt sorry for him.   

I think eating is one of the loveliest pleasures in life!

I don’t think I have ever had a bad feeling for any kind of carbohydrate; and I am willing to eat pretty much any exotic vegetable or fruit, or cuisine (as long as it is vegetarian.)  However, I have been known to relish even not so healthy food, McDonald’s cheeseburger and fries.  (Everything in moderation, right?)

Before I go on, I feel like I need to make a statement.  The context of my words are from the perspective of a middle class middle aged American woman, where going to the grocery store to pick out whatever I want to eat is my normal; abundance and choice are my normal;  being overweight and wanting to be healthier is my normal.  And in my normal world, I am aware of the first world problems of eating disorders, and early onset of dangerous diseases such as diabetes, and heart disease in a land where many of the citizens are overweight.  I am also aware of the problems of not enough to eat in developing countries, and even in our own country, where there is more than enough to go around, but the distribution of healthy, nutritious food is sinfully a normal for too many.   All I am saying, is that relationships with food, or the lack thereof, can be complicated and serious. I suppose, however, that when Jesus says, I am the Bread of Life, well, that is complicated and serious, too.   

What about you? 

What do you like to eat most--I am curious!

What is your favorite comfort food? 

What is your go-to-recipe? 

Do you like to cook? 

Don’t you think that a tomato fresh from the garden is the closest thing to heaven you will ever taste here on earth?

Think of all the food metaphors we use to  describe our feelings and actions.  Think of what we call each other:   Sweetie, honey, cupcake, peanut, sugar, dumpling, bad apple, couch potato, cornball, fruitcake....

And then, how many times have you ever said, 

“Oh I could just eat you up, you are so sweet!”  to express delight, or “let me chew on this for awhile” to express the need to think, to ponder, digest (that’s another one!) or problem-solve.

This is where our text is headed today--in fact, Kurt Walker, a former seminarian here at Eliot and now pastor in Indiana remarked that he would entitle the reading for today as either:  “Jesus: He’s good enough to eat”  or, “Jesus: He’s what’s for breakfast!”.  

 “I am the Living Bread of Life!”  Jesus proclaims.  To our ears, it does sound like a catchy phrase for breakfast cereal.  100% of your daily requirement of ethical vitamins and moral minerals.  Eat Jesus, and you are set for life eternal!  

And if Jesus would have stopped there, it probably would have sounded like that to the first century hearers of these words.  But Jesus never stops “there”--you know, that place where it’s all easy. Nope, Jesus goes on, making his teaching dense, layered, confusing, and challenging, even offensive.   

You see, when Jesus goes on to say, you must eat of the bread of Me for eternal life, those that heard it, were offended.    In many quarters of the Mediterranean world, the identification of the Divine with flesh would have seemed outlandish and offensive.  This physical world is impure and corrupt, and no self-respecting god should have anything to do with it.  This was a common view in Greek philosophy, and came to be the view of certain Christians--the "gnostics.”

So, the Judeans argue about this concept, and Jesus continues to emphasize his confusing point, by making all the more offensive.  Listen to this translation:  

 "Truly, truly, I say to you, if you do not eat the flesh of the son of humanity, and drink the blood of him, you do not have life in yourselves.  The one chewing my flesh and drinking my blood has life eternal and I will raise that one up at the last day, for my flesh is true food and my blood is true drink.”  

YEWWWW!

Eating flesh was forbidden.  It was associated with vultures (Ez 39:17) and evildoers (Zech 11:9).  Drinking blood was equally offensive.  "You shall not eat flesh with its life, that is, its blood," said Genesis (9:4).  "You shall not eat...any blood," said Leviticus (3:17).  "You shall not eat flesh and drink blood," said Ezekiel (39:17).

Well, I would say that it is just as offensive to hear this today, wouldn’t you? If you were in church for the first time ever, today, and heard this passage that sounds like Christian Cannibalism, wouldn’t you run for the door?  

(I kind of want to, myself!)

So, what is Jesus getting at?   Most scholars say that in the Johannine Community, that this text is clearly about the meaning of Eucharist, of communion.   And that Jesus was trying to make a point that his message, his presence in us and with us is real. Solid. You can feel it. Touch it. Taste it. Substantive.  Chew on it. 

So, I have been thinking, what does it mean for us, to chew on Jesus? 

Or to chew on the presence of God in our life? 

To chew on where we are with God? 

Where is the glorious, challenging taste of God in your life?

How do you savor the Holy?   How are you strengthened by eating the Bread of Life? 

This week, I made a huge mistake.   You see, I had bought a GroupOn pass to a yoga studio earlier this summer.   GroupOn is a website that sends you daily offers from local businesses that you can buy. Usually at least up to a 50%  savings--so for $25 I got 5 yoga classes, worth $75!   The pass expires in September, so I thought I better go ahead and use it.  

So, on Thursday, I caught a class before my evening meeting.   I walked in, signed up, and then went into the studio, which was HEATED, people. I didn’t read the fine print, and kind of yoga I signed up for was hot yoga, where the studio is heated to 100 degrees.  Holy cow, friends--it was crazy.  I was grateful when the young, handsome instructor decided to start the 75 minute class with a meditation instead of downward dog!  

He asked us, 

“What if we thought who we are was enough?  That what you are doing right now is enough?  However you do it?  What if we stopped pushing ourselves to be better, or stopped having regrets about what we did or didn’t do, how we performed, what if we just allowed that who we are and what we offer is enough.”

I realized, as I was sweating buckets and buckets (just sitting there, mind you)  I don’t spend enough time giving myself the food of introspection like that.  In those hot, uncomfortable stifling moments, I found myself chewing on his words, words that I imagined the divine speaking to me. It was gift, and a point of growth.    I am enough!

This week, at the Film Festival, we watched “The Apostle” starring Robert Duvall.   The main character, Sonny, is a womanizing itinerant evangelist.  He is a complicated, sinful character that you can’t help but question and love at the same time.   Out of all of his foibles, one thing is real--the way that he chews on his faith, yelling and screaming at God one moment, preaching in the next, and helping a family in need in the next.   

I love Sonny.

His faith is his bread...he chews on the Holy, and spends a lot of time talking to God, wrestling with God, loving God. God is not an ephemeral fleeting idea to Sonny, but rather a real and substantive presence that feeds his life, and who he is.  And Sonny knows that he is enough, cracks and all. 

Now, you and I aren’t pentecostal evangelists. We aren’t holy rollers, we aren’t even southern Methodists!  Most of us probably don’t spend hours praying and shouting  to God in the middle of the night, or asking God is we should take a left turn or right turn.  

But we are Christians, whatever that means in post Christian world.  For some reason, we find sustenance in the Bread of Life.  How do you grow into this,  in your daily life?  What difference does it make? 

How do YOU eat and drink the living God, 

How do you chew on this Bread, 

of Life? 

Amen. 

Dance

July 15, 2012 

Proper 10B/Ordinary 15B

2 Samuel 6

“ Dance”

A reflection written for Feminist Theology in an Age of Fear and Hope: A Ministry of the Episcopal Women’s Office of Ministry, USA

http://feministheology.blogspot.com/

During my first year of seminary, I took a liturgical dance class, as I was interested in learning more on how to integrate movement in worship, especially with children.   I was especially excited that the instructor, RevDance, was a former member of the Alvin Ailey dance company among other credentials, and her thesis for her M. Div. degree included  a sermon dance on Hagar, which I had seen online and found incredibly moving deep in my core.  

Now, I have to say here that I am NOT a dancer, and have had no training in dance, unless you count learning the Virginia Reel and the Hustle in high school PE classes.   

Oh, and Jazzercise as an adult.   I don’t have long Rockette-like legs, or lithe flowing arms--rather, I am a bit, well, stout, and with just hints of flexibility.  Jus’ sayin.   

On the first day of class, after RevDance warmed up us with some exercises and group movement pieces as she read scripture, we sat in a circle on the slate chapel floor to go through the syllabus.   She informed us that during the semester, we would create a worship service together.   I immediately said, “We don’t have to dance in front of the whole school, do we?”  and she assured me that we would take the lectionary for the week, and create a movement inspire worship service around a theme we found in the scriptures.   I felt assured, because I sure as heck wasn’t going to be leaping around and shaking my booty in front of my colleagues.   

The course was really wonderful, and I learned some great skills in how to work with liturgy and movement that I could use in ministry.   Then, the time came to plan for chapel.  We had this wonderful Psalm, so while RevDance read part of the scripture, then the seven of us moved as a cluster after each verse, while this amazing jazz pianist riffed on the piano.   It was very improvisational--that’s the only way I can explain it.   So, as we practiced together, all of sudden, RevDance said, “Karla, at the end of this verse, I want you to peel off from the group, and do a solo.”   

“Solo what?” I thought in my head, and I looked at her quizzically, and said, “Huh?”  

“Just peel off and let your body move to the music and Word.  Everybody will have a chance to do it.”   I was horrified.    “Are we going to do this in worship tomorrow? This peel off-y thing?”   She brightly said, “Yes!”     Sh-t, I thought to myself, because I couldn’t really say it out loud at the time.   I lamely practiced my solo by running around the space and fluttering my fingers, getting back to the group cluster as fast as I could.  

I mean really, what the heck?  

I considered being really sick the next day, so I could miss chapel, but instead, I pulled on my sweat pants and t-shirt, and showed up in bare feet for worship.   Did I say the guy improvising on the piano was pretty stellar?  Totally moved by the Spirit.   The time came for our “piece.”   PianoJazzman began riffing, and then RevDance was reading this beautiful scripture, and the Spirit started moving in me, and when it came for my solo, I totally let loose.   

I didn’t care who or what was happening in the room, it was just my body, the Word, and  music that was so holy it felt sacramental.   I twirled, I swept my arms down to the floor, I rolled on the group, I lept, I cried--I danced unto the Lord!   I Danced!     It was one of the few times I felt completely fearless, filled with love and joy, without abandon.    I  felt like I was flying, but completely grounded.  

So, when I reflect on David’s leaping and dancing with all his might (and quite possibly nakedly, according to scholarship) as the ark was brought into the city of David,  I think of the moment when I truly danced for God, without abandon.   The sheer, pure joy truly is fearless.   The passion is abiding.  It’s something I can appreciate, in spite of this flawed character of a King.   

There are problems in this text that beg to be noticed.  What about all that unpleasantness with Uzzah? The poor guy was just trying to still the ark with his hand because the oxen shook the cart it was resting on.   God strikes him dead?    No wonder the lectionary leaves out those verses in the reading.    

One of the other silences in this text centers around David’s wife, Michal, who is Saul (David’s predecessor in the kingship).   Traditionally, Michal gets a bum rap because upon seeing David dancing in the streets, she “despises” him, and later, in verses 20-23 (also not in the lectionary reading) appears as if she is nagging David for exposing himself in the street like any common vulgar fellow.  David defends himself, and the text ends with the report that Michal never had a child to the day of her death.  Does that mean David abandoned conjugal relations with her, as a punishment?   Did God strike her barren?   We don’t know, but we do know that she never had the joy of childbirth, which was pretty much an expectation of success for women in the ancient world.  

Cheryl Exum has a wonderful chapter in Alice Bach’s book, The Pleasures of Her Text, entitled, “Murder They Wrote: Ideology and Manipulation of Female Presence in the Bible” which explores the story of Michal, and lifts her out of the “phallogenic bias of the text” in order to “hear her voice” and giving her  a “measure of autonomy denied  in the larger story.”    She notes that previously Michal “loved” David, but nowhere in the larger story does David show any emotion or affection toward her. His attitude towards her is either ignoring her, or being defensive.  In addition, instead of perceiving her as nagging, perhaps she is trying to preserve and defend what is holy and sacred in their tradition.  The point being, there is much more to this woman than the bias of the text leads us to believe.   

So back to the dance. David is not perfect, and usually a downright scoundrel, if you ask me, in spite of writing some beautiful music.  But he was deeply passionate in his praising of God, and even in his despairing laments to God.    He knew how to let loose, which I think is important for all of us to learn, because really, each day is an improvisation on life and faith, isn’t it?  

And perhaps, the more we can fear less, and be opened more, we notice the wider world more--and discrepancies and injustices come to light, and we might be led to passionately and courageously expose them.   The presence of Uzzah and Michal remind us, than in the larger story, there are those who are excluded, and as we dance with God and for God, we are called to bring forth those excluded into full inclusion in this story of Life. 

Let’s dance together, shall we? 

Dwell

Dwell

Rev. Karla Miller    July 22, 2012   Ephesians 2:14-22

As a child, my sisters and I played endless games of “House.”   One of our favorite places was in a tree house that my uncle built on the farm, in this giant elm tree that grew out of the tin can and glass trash pile (My dad burned most of the trash, but there were certain things that, well, wouldn’t go up in smoke.)   What was great about the Junk Tree is that it was a three platform kind of structure--there was the open kitchen and living room, and then on two other limbs there were the bedrooms.  You had to be one of the big kids to go to those bedrooms because you had to shimmy your way over the high limbs to get to them, so I usually ended up playing the baby.  

Then, there was the day my mom and dad came home from an auction sale, with this little house on a flatbed trailer.   They had bought it for next to nothing,  and it was a huge surprise!   In spite of being one room, it held our play furniture, and we even had an old school desk and chalkboard in case we wanted to play school while we were playing house.    My sister still has the little chairs and table we used.  

When we got too old to play house ourselves, we simply transferred the play to barbie dolls.  We would spend endless hours setting up homes for our barbies (we didn’t have a barbie house, but we were lucky enough to have a Ken doll).  We would take blankets and chairs and create elaborate dwelling places that we imagined were mansions.   Often, we spent so much time setting up our homes, that we didn’t actually have TIME to play Barbies.  

Do you remember ever playing house? 

The most favorite activity in our childcare room is the area where there is a kitchen, and the little ones love putting the plastic food on a plate and serving one another, just like their parents do for real at home.  

It is one of our most basic needs--to have a dwelling place.  Whether it is an apartment, a house, a nursing home, we all need a landing place, a nesting place, a place that is home.   

So it is no wonder that the epistle writer uses the imagery of “household” to invite the Jewish and Gentile believers into unity.    You see, they were having a hard time.   The Jewish Christians thought the Gentile Christians ought to convert to Judaism in order to be Christian (because at the time, the Jesus movement was considered to be a sect of Judaism.   However, the Gentile Christians didn’t feel they needed to convert, because they understood the movement as being outside of traditional Judaism, and something they could embrace.   There was tension among these communities, and the leadership was working hard at reconciliation, working hard to create a new social order, where those in the community would understand that Christ was their peace, and Christ created in himself “one new humanity in place of two.”

No one was stranger. 

No one was alien. 

Everyone, EVERYONE was a member of the household of God.  It was an incredibly radical vision. 

Yesterday, we celebrated the life of Angela Bauer....and I have been thinking about her household.  You see, she opened up her household, to children, to babies, her childcare, and foster children.   Chris described her as seeing each one as a bundle of pure potential.  Each child was gathered into the fold, with intention and care.  I think, in many ways, her home was a model for what it means to be a household of God.  Seeing each person in it as pure potential?   

I wonder what  it means for us, as a congregation, to think of ourselves as a household of God?   A place where God dwells? I think we do a really good job of being welcoming, and accepting people exactly how they are, once they walk in the doors.   I wonder, though, what it means for us to be a household of God in the larger community of Newton Corner?   How can we be more intentional of going outside our walls, and inviting them into our household?  

And those who leave our household--those who move, often write back saying, “I still haven’t found a church home that resonates with my experience at Eliot.”  Even yesterday, I had a conversation like this with Mary Gomez, a former member, who now lives in Indiana, who happened to be at the Cape this week, and was able to be at the services yesterday.  

What would your life be like, without a church family? 

My heart shattered this week, again, when I heard the news that a 24-year-old gunman barged into a crowded Denver-area theater during a midnight premiere of the Batman movie, hurled a gas canister and then opened fire, killing 12 people and injuring at least 50 others in one of the deadliest mass shootings in recent U.S. history.

Images of Oklahoma City, Columbine, the Amish School House in Pennsylvania, and Virginia Tech came racing back. “Here we go again,” as so many people in Colorado and beyond are faced with indescribable loss and pain.

I don’t think we can talk about this tragic event without also talking about the really complicated and divisive issues of gun control, health care, and the other social issues that surround the behavior of a young man who has such utter disregard for the sacredness of human life.  How and where do people process a something this unspeakable?  

Where can they lay down their burdens, rage with anger and fear, shed their tears, wonder, question, and mobilize? 

A spiritual home, rooted, and built up with the passion of Christ.

You see, as people of this faith, we are called throughout our lives to rise to the standards set for us by Jesus Christ, who calls us to turn our society right-side up by bringing forth justice, by welcoming strangers in our midst, by feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, by loving the unlovable, and by sharing all that we have and all that we are, so that life is safe, equitable, and just for all God’s children. (Rev. Laurie Hafner, Coral Gables UCC)

That’s what it means to be a dwelling place for God--the household of God not only nurtures and nests, but from it’s very core of being it dares to act towards a new social order.  For all!

So today, I leave you with two questions... 

Where does God dwell at Eliot? What would your life be like, without your spiritual family? 

Let us continue to strive to be Dwelling places for God, so that more and more people might experience a new social order, and discover their way home. 

Amen. 

Text

In the New Testament letter of Ephesians, the writer delineates models for a new social order.  In chapter 2, the writer is exhorting Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians to be unified by breaking down the walls of their differences. 

Ephesians 2:14-22

¹⁴For Christ is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. ¹⁵He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, ¹⁶and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. ¹⁷So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; ¹⁸for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. ¹⁹So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, ²⁰built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. ²¹In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; ²²in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

Bread and Stones

Bread and Stones

John 6:1-21

Rev. Karla Miller   July 29, 2012    

Eliot Church of Newton

Sand and stones and pebbles, 

Beaches and wise ones,

A picnic of bread and fish 

A terrifying storm on the water, 

And a question, 

What is satisfying to you in your life?f

Is that what fills it, 

Or is it filled with tiny grains of sand? 

This is where we find ourselves, today. 

On a beach, with Patrick* pondering our lives, 

And  on another beach, with Jesus, and the crowds, 

And a oh so too familiar gospel story 

About the feeding of the 5,000 men plus more women and children

With a boy’s lunch of five loaves of bread and a couple of dried fish. 

I remember once meeting with a confirmand, and talking about her concepts of who Christ was. 

She said that Jesus was magic, because who else could turn so little food into a feast for thousands? 

It had to be magic.  

I gently asked a few questions, “What if this story was about people letting go, and sharing what they had, because of Jesus example, because of the little boy?  I wonder what that would mean about Jesus?”

She looked at me in horror and basically said, “but that’s so ordinary.  Jesus wasn’t ordinary.  Jesus could do anything.”

And I thought to myself, 

Well, she is right about Jesus not being ordinary, and let it go, because really, all I can do is sow seeds, right? Plus, the whole sharing thing came naturally to this child, so that really wasn’t all that revolutionary to her.  

That being said, in spite of this story’s familiarity, 

It is anything BUT ordinary. 

Picture the scene, if you will. 

Crowds have followed Jesus across the Sea of Galilee,

Because they witnessed healing in his presence.  

The crowds are the common folk, oppressed by Roman domination, and are at the bottom rung of the economic and social ladders. 

They follow Jesus and his disciples  up the mountainside, 

And then Jesus stops,

And wonders, where will these crowds get food?

He sensed their hunger, 

Their need…

Phillip, the treasurer of the disciples, notes that not even six months wages would be enough to feed a crowd so large. 

Phillips’s answer blows open this story, which is so much more than sweet Sunday School Story.  His comment makes us realize that this story is about bread--a symbol of basic need; and economics--what could be afforded, especially for those outside the circle of power and privilege and excess.  

Jesus was concerned for the basic needs of these people, who had so little, but hungered for the fullness of life.  

So he commences with the supposed miracle--as one writer notes, “if it is a miracle it is of the most deflated kind.”  (Rachel Mann,

http://www.politicaltheology.com/blog/politics-breaking-bread-trinity-8-john-61-21/ )

There is no magic, no special mystical words--(my apologies to my former confirmand)

Simply, he takes the bread and fish, gives thanks, and shares.  

Did you hear that?   He took what was there, said thank-you, and gives it away. 

People are fed as much as they need, 

a staggering amount of people,mind you.

Imagine,

what little there was at the beginning, but it ended up being enough, in fact,more than enough, with leftovers for tomorrow! 

Don’t you love that Jesus tells them to gather up the fragments? In spite of the fact that the fragments were broken, they still were good and nourishing, and Jesus didn’t want them to be left behind. 

We are invited to gather up the fragments, for nothing that matters, that which feeds us, should be lost.  We tend to lose what matters, because in these days, our society is caught in a “famine of excess, no matter what we eat or use, nothing seems to satisfy us for long and so we continue to try to fill ourselves.”  (Mann) And what we end up in our jars of life is too much sand, and not enough large stones, of what matters. 

I finished reading this week a biography of Catherine the Great, the 18th century empress of Russia (and the last woman ruler of that country).   Her road to the throne was rocky, and precarious,  and in spite of her ambition, it wasn’t a sure thing that she would ever become the empress, and she suffered betrayal, deceit, and horrible treatment at the hands of her mother-in-law and her husband.    She finally became empress, after a hostile take-over of her husbands rule as emperor. (It’s a very long story).  Once she held the throne, she filled her courts with lush and imperial excesses, rewarding her supporters, building palaces encrusted with jewels, etc.   She was a learned woman--a scholar of the Enlightenment, with a special penchant for Voltaire.   

She was also complicated--for she wanted to reform Russia regarding the many serfs that were owned by nobility, the church, and the state, in order to give them freedom.  

A noble cause which never came to fruition.   

She also waged wars,

built cities, 

amassed a huge european art collection of Rembrandts and Rubens--

She had it all. 

Except for one thing.  

The love of partner.  

She had all of these affairs with men, called the “favorites”, but never did they live up to her simple expectations to be a companion, a friend, a confidant.  Some of the relationships were incredibly co-dependent, 

and this strong woman, acclaimed in all the western world, 

would fall to pieces over the shallow relationships with her lovers.

You see, her jar was filled with sand first, 

and there was no room for what mattered.  

I felt so sad at the end of the story. 

It’s really important to be sustained by what matters, rather than by accessories and acquisitions. 

Back to the text. 

After all of the people are fed, 

Jesus goes off to pray alone on the mountainside, to feed himself, and also to avoid those in the crowd that wanted him to be king.  

It doesn’t say what the disciples are doing, but the next thing we know, they are piled in a boat to go to the other side of the lake. 

Don’t you wonder why the heck they didn’t wait for Jesus?  Why did they leave him?  

It is as if, in spite of being fed by Divine presence earlier in the day, they have forgotten what is important.  It doesn’t seem to occur to them to go and look for Jesus before they leave.  

But, Jesus didn’t forget them.  Jesus shows up, in spite of the fact that one would think by now that the doofy disciples would know what matters.   

We all are doofy sometimes.  We forget.  We drag jars of sand around, abandoning all attempts to fit in what is important, because we just can’t save ourselves.  

And that’s where our faith comes in, our community, and the Divine.  To remind us of what is sustaining--so that when we find ourselves in the storms of life, we will have the fragments of what is more than enough and filling--the Bread of Life. 

3

Which circles back to the stones in the jar, because the stones in the jar are the greatest gifts of the Bread of Life to you—that which sustains and gives life and is life. 

May your jar be filled with big stones.

Amen. 

*Adult Children's Time  given by Patrick O’Reilly.  

(**The #### represents improvisation on the piano)

I was walking on a beach when I saw this young man ####

I said hello and saw that he had a pile of stones – big ones and small ones, so I asked what he was making

“Well the stones are LIFE” he replied ####

OK – at this point I know I should just keep walking  but I say – “What?” ###

“Come closer” he invited.  ###

The man had a few bowls in front of him. He took some large stones and said – “The large stones represent the important things in your life. Family, faith, caring and loving others.” And he put the large stones in one of the jars.####

“Looks kind of full” I said.

“Look again”– and he took the smaller stones and they dribbled among the large stones. ####  “The small stones represent things in your life that are of lesser importance.”

“That kind of fills it up”, I said.

He held up his hand, which was filled with sand, and I watched it fill in the spaces between the stones.####

“The sand represents the unimportant things in life” -####

As I was thinking about this, he showed me a jar that was mostly filled with sand – he said, this is what happens when you fill your life with things that are unimportant. And as he tried to put in the large stones, he said, “You cannot fit in the things are are really important. But it is so easy to fill your life with sand, isn't it?

Now, which represents your life?? ####