Sermon: Freedom from the fear of scarcity (July 26, 2015)

Pentecost 9B

July 26, 2015

John 6:1-21

            Here’s some Bible trivia for you: Of all the miracles we attribute to Jesus, would you believe that this well-known miracle, the Feeding of the Multitude, is the only one that appears in all four Gospels? In fact, a similar story appears twice in two of them, for a grand total of six times! Another Bible factoid: while the Gospel of Luke omits the other well-known story we hear today, the one about Jesus walking on water, Matthew, Mark and John all include it, and in all three cases, it appears directly following the feeding of the 5000. Famous as both of those stories are, I had never noticed that they always appear right next to each other like that. It got me wondering: why? If you’ve ever read straight through the Gospels, one after another, you may have noticed that the four accounts of Jesus’ life on earth do not all follow the same order. John, in particular, seems to have a mind of his

By Jesus Mafa

own as far as how and in what order things happened. (The reason for this, if you wondered, is that John’s interest is more in the meaning of things than in what is historically accurate). And yet this order, the miraculous feeding and the walking on water, is maintained for everyone. Why?

            As I have reflected on that question this week, I have noticed that a lot can be gleaned from looking at the reactions of the people involved. John’s Gospel is so wonderful at giving us insight into the emotions of those involved. And in both stories, one emotion I notice is fear. In the walking on water story, it’s obvious – John tells us that the disciples were terrified. And wouldn’t you be, if you saw your friend walking toward your boat, right on top of the water?!

            In the feeding story, the fear is a bit more subtle. They are afraid they won’t have enough food to feed all those people. They are afraid of their scarcity. Philip immediately looks at their budget and sees this will not work – “Six months wages wouldn’t be enough!” Numbers don’t lie; there is not enough. Andrew tries to think out of the box a little bit, looking at what other resources they have beyond money – maybe someone here has something to share? And someone does: a young boy, willing to share his lunch with Jesus and the crowd. But still, it is clearly not enough. And whenever we get in that mindset of “not enough,” there is, underlying it, that pesky emotion: fear.

            Fear of not enough – it is such an ordinary fear, really. It is not usually debilitating, like what the disciples must have felt seeing Jesus walk on water, but it is a fear we still regularly face, sometimes on a daily basis. For middle class folks, it’s not usually about lack of food like in the story, but it often rears its head in financial matters: Will I have enough money to retire when I want to? Will I have enough to send my kids to college? Do I have enough to risk being generous with my giving? We look at the numbers, like Philip, and make what we discern to be savvy decisions, in hopes that we will have enough.

            Of course the question of enough also comes to us in other forms, often in the form of self-esteem. When I applied to seminary, several people told me to apply to Yale, and my first thought of course was, “I’m not smart or accomplished enough to go to Yale.” Women, especially, are often plagued by the worry that their bodies are not enough: “I’m not skinny enough or curvy enough or tall enough to wear this outfit.” Some of us are shy to meet new people because we’re afraid we won’t be interesting enough, or clever enough, or good-looking enough to make a good impression.

            You see, everywhere we look we see the fear of “not enough” – just like the disciples. How often this perception of life deters us from gratitude for what we have, and also our preoccupation with “enough” often deters us from the opportunity to serve to others. I read a story from a woman who served as a pastor in Nairobi, Kenya. One day, three young men came into her office. They were ragged and dirty, but had smiles on their faces. They asked if they could sing for her. She said of

course, and they sang the most beautiful a cappella rendition of Amazing Grace, in their native language. She said it was like angel music, the kind that gives you goose bumps.

Then they shared with her their story. They were refugees from Rwanda. They had been university students, but when war broke out, they left the country with only the clothes on their backs and the song in their hearts. They didn’t know where their families were. They had often barely had enough to eat. They had learned to be grateful for their lives each day, and though they could never find the words for the prayer they wanted to offer to God, they could always sing Amazing Grace, and they knew God would understand their prayer. They had come that day seeking assistance – they had found a room for $8/month. They had no furniture, but would gladly sleep on the floor. Could the church help by paying the $8, plus a little extra for food - $12 a month?

            The pastor brought the opportunity to the church leaders. They were interested in the idea, until someone, looking at the numbers, said, “$12 doesn’t seem like a lot, until you multiply it by 12 months. $150 is a lot!” Someone else wondered if this would set a precedent – what if word got out that they were willing to pay people’s rent, and all the homeless refugees came to them?

            Soon enough, this opportunity to serve in a wonderful way turned into a litany of “not enoughs.” The pastor writes, “As I listened to my church leaders, I learned so much about the myth of limited resources. We often think there’s just enough for some of us. Some have to go without. We’re worried we’ll run out, but guess what? God’s world has enough for all of us. Someone has put it well, saying, ‘There is enough for all our needs, but there is not enough for all our greed.’”[1]

            A story from across the world, that hits so close to home. The fear of not enough pervades the hearts of people everywhere, I suppose, even across time. There’s another Old Testament story – we’ll hear part of it next week – about the Israelites wandering in the wilderness and God provides them manna from heaven, with the instruction only to take what they need for today. Of course, the people are afraid to take so little – what if the manna doesn’t appear tomorrow? So they take more than what they need… and the excess manna gets moldy. But it’s okay, because God promised they would always get enough manna, and so the next day, they get some more.

            It seems what we have here – in all three examples – is a lack of trust. Philip and his buddies, the Kenyan church, and the Israelites – none of them trusted that God would provide just exactly what they needed. That is the danger of fear – it leads us to a lack of trust, or perhaps, it leads us to

trust in scarcity instead of the promise of abundance.

            But it is the God who promises abundance in whom we need to put our trust. Remember what Luther writes in the Small Catechism? “God provides me with food and clothing, home and family, daily work, and all I need from day to day.” God provides all those things! We can worry and fear all we want, but in the end, God provides all we need from day to day.

            And in fact, God provides much more. Look at our second lesson, from Ephesians. The writer tries to capture just how generous and abundant God is in this phrase, “[God] is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine.” Or another translation puts it, “exceeding abundantly beyond everything.” God’s abundance is so abundant, it’s hard to capture it in words! All we know is that God gives us far more than we could ever imagine.

            And with that recognition comes freedom – freedom from worrying about whether there will be enough. Freedom from fretting about running out. Freedom to be more generous with our time, our money, and our love and care for others. Freedom to trust the one who gives us “food and clothing, home and family, daily work, and all we need from day to day.”

            “Therefore,” the catechism goes on, “we surely ought to thank and praise, serve and obey him. This is most certainly true.”

            Let us pray… Generous God, your providence exceeds abundantly beyond everything. Make us grateful for what you give, not fearful for what we don’t have, so that we would feel freedom to love and serve without fear. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] http://day1.org/671-a_picnic_on_the_mountainside

Sermon: Tending to needs (July 19, 2015)

Pentecost 8B

July 19, 2015

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

            Do you remember back in Lent, when we learned about various aspects of simplicity? We talked about de-cluttering our homes, and finding space for rest and prayer, and eating cleaner, healthier food, and a whole assortment of practices, all with the effort of simplifying our lives and being able to focus more on our relationship with God.

           I don’t know about you, but the topics we talked about during that six-week series have stuck with me, as I have continued to make efforts to simplify my life. Though I have wandered in and out of various aspects of simplicity, a need I always have is simply to minimize the stuff all around me so that I can feel the sense of calm and peace that I crave. Because as long as I have stuff all around me, I find myself feeling anxious, inadequate, tired, busy, and cannot find the sense of sabbath and rest with God that I need.

            Today’s Gospel lesson has gotten me thinking about this all over again. I am always so taken by this encounter, each time it comes up in the lectionary: when Jesus tells – no, invites – his disciples to “come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.” To me, this invitation speaks to a deep need that I have, and a need that clearly the disciples have as well, and so what a

comfort to hear Jesus recognize it, and tend to it.

           But if I take a step back from that one, compelling line, I also see that this whole text is about Jesus tending to needs. He is a man who embodies compassion, and I think the way that compassion is made apparent to us here is in Jesus’ willingness and ability to see and understand the deepest needs around him, and to tend to those needs.

            That sort of compassion is something seriously lacking in our lives. And I think part of the reason for it is that we don’t very often take the time to notice the true needs around us, or even the deepest needs we have ourselves. We are good at seeing physical needs – this person is hungry, that person needs a coat, I need sleep – but we’re not so good at taking the time to understand someone’s deepest heart’s desire, or even recognizing and admitting our own deepest desire. In fact, one of our default ways to deal with some feeling of lack in our lives is not to pray or learn or reflect or have a conversation, but rather to throw money or stuff at it. I’m sad, so I will buy myself a new toy. I’m scared, so I will buy a new outfit that makes me feel confident. I’m hurting, so I will pour myself a drink and numb my pain. But facing our true needs requires facing our emotions, and emotions can be so very complicated and make us feel so vulnerable and even inadequate. It is easier just to cover up the need with something else that may help in the short term, but never really addresses the need we have, the need we might not even know we have because we haven’t taken the time to consider it before putting a band-aid on it, or just dismissing it as not all that important.

            But Jesus – Jesus sees the needs of those around him, and tends to them. Jesus is compassionate. Jesus shows the disciples and the crowds what compassion looks like. And if we read this account with hearts open, we, too, can see the true needs of those in the story being met by Jesus.

            Take the disciples. They have just returned from a journey – remember, just a couple weeks ago, Jesus had sent them out to heal and cast out demons and share the good news. Now they are back, and they have had an incredible experience. Their eyes are opened, and their lives changed, and they are eager to share. In this case, their deep need is to be heard, to have someone actively listen to

their experience. Oh, I encounter this need so often, both in my pastoral visits and in my personal life. So often when we listen to someone share their feelings or their situation, we try to fix it, to make it better. But sometimes all the person needs is to know that someone cares enough to listen to their story.

When Michael and I were first married, I would tell him some struggle I was having, and he would often try to fix it for me, and though I appreciated it, for some reason I found it unsatisfying. I realized it was because that’s not what I needed. I just needed him to listen. Now, I try to tell him if this is a problem I need to be fixed; otherwise, I say, “I just need to know you are listening. Nothing else needs to be done about it, I just need to be heard.” And he will sit and listen, and resist the temptation to “make it all better.” It is this compassionate listening that heals my heart. And this is the compassion Jesus provides to his disciples: he hears their stories, he strives to understand how they are feeling – indeed he feels the same way. So he joins them where they are (he is tired, too!), and invites them to come with him to a restful place.

            Another need we see in this passage is the need of the crowd. Mark tells us that Jesus saw they were “like sheep without a shepherd.” They were wandering, restless, confused. And so Jesus had compassion on them, and in this case what it looked like was imparting knowledge. They needed guidance, and so Jesus sat down and taught them “many things.”

Education is a pretty amazing thing. As I have been trying to learn how to cook, I find I get frustrated when I come across an ingredient I’m not familiar with, or a step I don’t know how to do. It’s amazing what a quick sit down with Google or Wiki How-to can accomplish – that little bit of education can ease my fears and calm my anxiety about the unknown. But you know what would be even better? If someone who has done this before could be there with me and show me how. I find myself wishing my mom were closer, so she could just be there with me, teaching me in her gentle way, giving me her time and her knowledge. She could fulfill my need for guidance, as well as my

need for companionship through an unknown place. And that is what Jesus does for the crowd: he sits down with them and teaches them, offering his time, his knowledge, and his companionship on their journey.

            These are just two of the many needs apparent in this passage, and the many needs apparent in our own lives. The value of texts like this, is that they can help us start to reflect honestly on what our own needs are. When was the last time you really reflected deeply on your needs? I know I don’t spend enough time doing it – who has time for that, when so many quick fixes are so much more efficient? But it is so important to know our own hearts well enough to know what need we have, and how it might be fulfilled. Or if that approach is too vague for you, think about this: what would abundant life look like to you, in your particular place in life, and what do you need to have or to give up in order to claim that abundant life? As you think about that, think about it in positive, not negative ways. So not, “I need this to stop,” or, “I need you to act differently,” but rather, “I need to feel safe. I need to find peace with this. I need to find forgiveness.”

Now, we don’t have Jesus walking around with us anymore to sit with us and perceive our needs, and though we do still have him in prayer, we also understand the Church to be Christ’s agent in the world, seeking to fulfill people’s needs, whatever they are. And so the follow-up question is: what can the Church do to help you in this effort, to help you get what your heart needs? If there is something the Church can be doing, or that I, as your pastor can be doing, please share that with me, so that we might be a community that is fulfilling and satisfying for those who are a part of it.

These are such important questions to ponder, and I don’t think we spend nearly enough time doing it. So use this text to help you do it. I urge you to take some time today, or this week, to contemplate what your deepest need is right now. Perhaps articulate it to a trusted friend or spouse, or even a journal. And ask yourself how Christ – or the church in his stead – can help you to address it. Let Christ be your good shepherd, who has and who will go to any length to show his compassion and his gift of eternal, abundant life.

Let us pray… Compassionate God, you know our needs even when we don’t. Help us to be vulnerable enough to try to understand our own needs, and then willing to let you tend to them, so that we will be cared for and nurtured enough to be able to serve your world with full and generous hearts. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: A mirror for sin (July 12, 2015)

Pentecost 7B

July 12, 2015

Mark 6:14-29

            Whoever said that the Bible is a guidebook for how to live a righteous life, and a go-to resource for living as God intends us to, has never read the 6^th chapter of Mark. Because today, we get a story so gruesome and grisly it practically requires an R rating. It is the story of the beheading of John the Baptist.

            It wasn’t all that long ago that we heard about the birth of John the Baptist – an occasion full of joy and hope and light. John has lived a life that yes, may have confused some people, but also enchanted them and drew them to him. He had many followers, and, our text today tells us, even

The head of John the Baptist (Ononio Marinari)

Herod, who would later command John’s death, “liked to listen to him,” even though he found John’s teachings greatly perplexing. And yet now we get this story, told as a flashback, of the sad and gory end to the life of this this prophet and forerunner of Jesus.

            No, I wouldn’t call this a text to live by. But it is still a text from which we can learn about God’s call to us about how to be in the world. In this case, Mark accomplishes this by telling us basically how not to live. In other words, this text shows us examples of what it looks like to be living, as we Lutherans often say during our confession, “in bondage to sin.”

            First let’s look at Herodias, Herod’s illicit wife. She is really a piece of work, right? She was married to Herod’s brother Philip, but now is married to Herod, which is a big no-no by Jewish law. John the Baptist, being a righteous man, had done everything in his power to keep this marriage from happening, but to no avail. But Herodias never forgot John’s efforts to keep her from being queen. As Mark tells us, she held a smoldering grudge against him for meddling in her business, a grudge so deeply entrenched and causing in her such resentment that she wanted this righteous man dead. Herod, in turn, had throws John into jail, mostly to protect him, where he remained on this night of Herod’s birthday party. For Herodias, jail wasn’t good enough, and she continued to loathe the man. (Anyone else feel like this is a soap opera set up?)

            In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus describes holding grudges and thinking bad thoughts about your neighbor as akin to murder, and our understanding of that commandment in the Small Catechism says the same. So in this way, Herodias has already been murdering John by holding a deep grudge, refusing to forgive, and nursing her resentment. She is so bound by her hatred and

Herodias (Delaroche)

unwillingness to forgive this man for trying to uphold the law and not allowing her what she wanted, that she takes her murderous thoughts to the next level, having him killed. That, friends, is the power of resentment and hatred.

            Though the situations we find ourselves in may not be quite so dramatic as Herodias’, do we not face feelings like this all the time? A person who hates another will quickly take advantage of an opportunity to strike, and speak ill of them. Though our own unforgiveness, resentment, and grudges don’t generally lead to beheading (at least not in my experience!), we have our own tools for murder: malicious gossip, for example, or ignoring someone’s need, or simply being unfriendly. How, then, do we avoid murder? The Catechism offers a helpful antidote to this bondage to sin: Luther suggests that when we feel such vicious sin arising in our hearts, that we instead “defend [our neighbor], speak well of him, and explain his actions in the kindest way.” Oh, it is difficult to do that, when our hatred is so real, and when the fault of the other person is so deep. But letting our hatred toward another fester puts us in the same category as the murderous Herodias. So where do we find the strength to combat this sin?

            I have a friend who is in the process of quitting smoking. Every day he posts an update on Facebook about how many days it has been, and how he feels today. Brief as they are, each day’s post seems to glimmer with a little more hope that he can actually kick this habit, as well as some benefit that has already come from the effort. Could kicking the habit of letting our murderous inclinations dominate be similar, such that each time we feel inclined toward some nasty thought, we instead stop ourselves, and think of a kind one instead? It is a hard discipline, but perhaps “one day at a time” or “one thought at a time” could be a motto not only to help us break out of addiction, but also out of this, our bondage to sin.

            The second character to look to as an example of our bondage to sin is Herod himself. Herod is an interesting and complex guy. Where Herodias seems to be characterized by her hatred, Herod’s attitude is a bit more nuanced. Mark tells us that Herod was “greatly perplexed” by John’s teachings on sin and repentance – probably because though he knew on some level that John was right, Herod could not seem to break free of his sinful ways. He loved the power he had, he loved his reputation, he loved having what he wanted when he wanted it. And so, you see, his heart is divided – he knows what he should do, but does not possess the strength to do it.

            We see his struggle so clearly in this moment when Herodias, through her daughter, makes her murderous request for John’s head. Mark tells us that Herod was “deeply grieved” by the request.

King Herod

He didn’t want to do it. He knew it was the wrong thing to do. And yet, his reputation was on the line. He knew his wife to be a hateful woman, and he would likely have backlash from reneging on his offer to give whatever the daughter wanted. He knew killing John was wrong, but he did it anyway, because he was afraid to do otherwise.

            It’s another example of being in bondage to sin that hits very close to home! While, again, this is a rather dramatic example (we don’t usually make decisions about whether someone will live or die), we all face moral dilemmas all the time, situations in which we know, on some level, the right thing to do, but don’t possess the willpower or courage or humility to do it. We are too occupied with questions like, “What will people think?” We are too enamored with our ability to justify our actions, even if we know they are wrong. “I know I shouldn’t have said that about her, but she really deserved it.” “I shouldn’t laugh at that racist joke, but everyone else is, and I don’t want to look like a snob.” “I should go visit my friend who is sick, but I wouldn’t know what to say and it would be awkward, so I just won’t go, and avoid the situation.” The human heart can always find reasons to avoid doing what is right.

            I have a pretty strong memory from 5^th grade, when a group of my friends were in a car together, as well as one girl, we’ll call her Katelyn, who was not very popular. We were singing Disney songs in the car (as 10-year-olds are wont to do), and Katelyn mostly just listened. The next week, Katelyn wrote a note to one of the girls telling her what a nice voice she had. A kind gesture, to be sure, and a courageous one! But my friend came running over and showed us the note, giggling about how silly it was. We all laughed right along with her. I looked over and saw Katelyn watching us laugh at her kind note. I felt terrible. I knew I should stop the laughing, and tell Katelyn it was a nice note. But you know what stopped me? I was jealous. I wished it had been written to me. And so my bondage to sin took over, and I justified not doing the right thing.

            These sorts of moral dilemmas can hit us at any time (even at Herod’s own birthday party), and at any age (even 5^th grade). When they do, will we do what is right? Or will we do what is easy? The Apostle Paul talks about this, about knowing what to do, but not having the power to do it. It is easy to see in Herod’s story what he should have done, but in our own stories, it is so tempting to justify or overlook our unrighteous actions. How do we overcome this temptation?

            The Gospel lesson usually offers a word of hope and good news, but in this case, let’s look to the Psalm for that word of hope. The opening line says, “I will listen to what the Lord God is saying…” If we listen, really listen to God – in prayer, in Scripture study – God’s Word will drown out all those other competing voices and confusion. It isn’t always easy to hear, that’s for sure. Often our own sinful ways try to shout louder than God’s own still, small voice. But if we truly listen to what God would direct us toward doing, we will know what is right. And that is when we pray for the strength to do it.

            Stories like this, when they appear in the Bible, don’t offer us much in the way of inspirational quotes, but they do serve as an important mirror into our own lives. The Bible is an account of salvation history, and the deep need of a fallen humanity for Christ. May we be courageous enough to read stories like this, to reflect on them in light of our own lives, and to turn, in the end, toward Christ.

            Let us pray… Merciful God, you know our sinful ways better than we ourselves do. Guide us by your Word out of the way of sin, and into the light of your glory. In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.