By Rev. Emma Chattin
March 14, 2010
First Reading
John 6:1-13
Feeding The Five Thousand
Some time later, Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee– also called Lake Tiberias –and a huge crowd followed him, because they saw the signs he gave by healing the sick. Jesus climbed the hillside and sat down there with his disciples. It was shortly before the Jewish feast of Passover. Looking up, Jesus saw the crowd approaching and said to Philip, ‘Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?’ Jesus knew what he was going to do, but asked this to learn Phillip’s response. Philip answered, ‘Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread to give each of them a little mouthful!’ One of the disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said, ‘There is a child here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?’ Jesus said, ‘Make the people sit down.’ Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; and as many as five thousand families sat down. Then Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed them to those who were seated; so also with the fish, giving out as much as they could eat. When the people had eaten their fill, Jesus told the disciples, ‘Gather up the leftover pieces, so that nothing gets wasted.’ So they picked them up, and filled twelve baskets with the scraps left over from the five barley loaves.
Second Reading
Adapted from~
Jesus and Buddha as Stories by Professor David Loy
…. Our minds need stories just as much as our bodies need food. ‘Story’ in this case means….all our mythologies, folktales, legends, epics, novels, philosophies, ideologies, including, of course, our religious beliefs. Just like food builds and rebuilds our bodies, stories build and rebuild our minds (or spirits, if you prefer) because it is through them that we learn what the world is, who we are, what is important in this world, and how we are to live in it. ….. If we look at religion-stories from this perspective, we can appreciate them in a different way.
….. The analogy between stories and food is actually quite a good one, I think. An occasional dose of fast food or junk food is usually not too bad for us, but a diet that consists only of (fast food burgers), fries and soda pop is unhealthy. Just as we need to eat something to sustain our bodies, so we need stories to provide meaning and structure for our lives. One of the worst problems with our consumer culture is that, just as it encourages us to eat too much junk food, so it encourages us to watch and listen to too many junk stories, with simplistic and predictable plots focused on violence and sex, and with predictable effects on the lives [and spirits] of those [who become exclusively] devoted to them.
The myth which inspires me most of all is the story of Shakyamuni Buddha. ….. The core of the Buddha story is a search for wisdom… The Buddha’s life-quest is elegant in its structure and deeply moving, because it forcefully reminds us not to repress our awareness of the illness, old age and death that haunt our lives, but to use that awareness to motivate and energize our search for the meaning of our own life and death. His awakening is described in various ways, and there even seems to be something intentionally ambiguous about it, but some essential points stand out: the understanding we need is not a conceptual one; we can resolve the anguish of our lives not by accumulating things but by overcoming the greed, ill-will and delusion of our own minds; this involves letting-go of the sense-of-self that [causes one to] feel alienated from others in the world.
Reflection: What Feeds You?
Good Morning. Welcome to Stewardship Sunday!
My name is Emma Chattin, and I’ll be your server.
On the menu this morning, some of the synonyms of Stewardship….
Attention… Care… Cherishing, Protecting, Preserving….
Nurturing… Nourishing… Feeding….
And some of the side dishes….
Giving Thanks… Generosity…. Gathering…
Sharing… Caring…. Growing… Letting Go…
Some mighty good vittles!
Yawl hungry?
What does Stewardship Sunday mean?
It’s a day when the community considers the way in which it sustains itself and prepares for growth; a day when the community considers the realistic and tangible means to support its mission, its vision, what it is doing in the community, and how to do so for more people (in some cases, many more people); the practical considerations of new programs, more seats… and the basics of looking around at some point and thinking… with a sense of gratitude, and perhaps some anxiety as well:
How do we care for all these people?
How do we feed them?
Now there are two things that churches generally do not like to talk about, and, not surprisingly, those are the same two things most often at the root of problems and conflict- both for church communities, and, also, not surprisingly, in most intimate relationships. Those two things are Sex and Money. And, I will be honest with you, I am quite comfortable talking about both.
Because the things we don’t talk about- and maybe try not to think about -must be talked about and thought about, because the issues that we do not have the courage or the will to discuss are the ones that will destroy the very thing that they could have otherwise created and built up if we were only to approach them openly. Folktales and great mythology reveal this timeless truth to us again and again.
But that doesn’t mean we just jump right on into either topic without some preparation. It matters that we talk about them, but it also matters most HOW we talk them.
SEX & MONEY.
Both can expose some of our deepest sensitivities and insecurities. Both can impact our sense of self-worth in some very complicated and tricky ways. Both can be used, misused, even exchanged, in perhaps the most oldest exchange, one for the other; and both can be approached in a less than pleasing, completely insensitive, and even vulgar manner.
Yet, if we are sincerely and fully true to our principals and beliefs, then both subjects can and should be approached without shame as beautiful gifts, as expressions of intimacy, and as a means of vital connection with one another.
Money is not some great and all powerful thing; it is not the be all be-all-end-all; it is not the ultimate prize or reward for a life well lived; it isn’t fair and it knows no sense of morality other than the purse, wallet, or hand it happens to be in at the time. Wars are waged over it, people are killed for it, and some people lose all sense of humanity in the pursuit of it. Perhaps this is why we sometimes hesitate to discuss it, because money seems guilty of so many things by association and through exchange. And yet, it is not the end but rather the means to the end. It is not the result but rather a tool through which we achieve a result. It is not to be held tightly. It is, however, an important resource, and a resource that, like water, and life itself, functions best when it flows freely.
I’m familiar with giving as a means of sustaining a spiritual community, and giving as a spiritual principal- as a means of individual spiritual growth. Let me talk about the latter for a moment.
Though there is some variation, many faith traditions have some sort of prescribed level of giving. My own tradition centered on tithing, or a giving level of 10%. The origin of this practice is deep in the Hebrew Bible, and it is a hotly debated subject in some circles. In fact, much has been written in both Christian and Jewish communities as to why this level no longer applies. It matters less to me what the figure is, and more that so many people spend so much time and energy trying to make it less or avoiding the topic of giving altogether. I find that interesting… because I believe is the end goal is less about giving something up, and more about learning to let go.
So back in the old days, it was 1/10, or 10% of a person’s harvest or livestock. Nowadays, people will ask, 10% of gross or net? Do investments count? How about money contributed to an IRA? When a person asks such questions, I can gather that they have perhaps already missed the point of giving as a spiritual principal of “letting go”.
In the old days they would haul their sacrifice up to an altar…. and burn it. I once asked dad that if God likes burned meat so much why didn’t we just bar-b-que in church? Dad told me it’s not that God likes burned meat- the sacrifice was burned so that someone wouldn’t be tempted to return to the altar later and get their offering back. Makes sense. I have known people in church communities who behave in a similar manner- always wanting to get their offering back in some way, or wanting to maintain control of it. Again, the lesson of giving is about learning to let go.
Also, if the offering was burned, no one really knew how big or small it was. There were no boasting rights or entitlements. That is, I give x and y gives z… and so I am more entitled…. … entitled to a better seat… a better hymnal… a better parking space. Giving as a spiritual principal involves no such quid pro quo.
…. or I give z amount, and I don’t want it used for postage stamps… or to pay the electric bill… but for something REALLY important ….
Again… missing the entire point of letting go. In the old days what happened to the offering? It went up in smoke. Giving as a spiritual principal is all about the practice of letting go of the gift once it leaves your fingertips. You do that often enough, and even what is at your fingertips is no longer held tightly in your grasp. And THAT, I think, is what giving as a spiritual principal is all about.
The story in today’s First Reading is about an apparent lack of resources in a community. It is also perhaps one of the most popular stories in the Jesus tradition, and the only so called “miracle story” in the ministry of Jesus that appears in all four of the canonized Gospels. Clearly, this story communicates something very important, meaningful, and moving about the experience of following Jesus, so much so that I can imagine this story being told over and over again in each of the gospel communities before finally being written down by their respective scribes (“Hay, do you remember the time… feeding all those people? Wow, those were the days!).
While the version in each of the 4 canonized gospels have variation, they all convey the essence of a very remarkable story. Feeding 5000 + people from a basket of five loaves and two fishes. Wow! And having more left over in the end than what they began with – a basket of left-overs for each of the twelve disciples!
That kind of multiplication, that kind of expansion of resources, is often used as a metaphor for the fund raising efforts of many church communities, and the imagery of over-flowing offering baskets was not lost on many a rural preacher praying for a miracle during budget formation time.
But the question for us today is … how do we absorb this story?… How do we consume it? As a miracle? A magic trick? The sudden and momentary suspension of some sort of natural law that otherwise seems to govern the rest of us?
When I was a child, a magician pulled a coin from my ear and gave it to me. I was amazed. For a moment. And then I told him I had another ear. Well…. if he could pull a coin from one ear, surely he could pull one from the other. And he did. And then, where else could we pull one from? And then, what would stop him from pulling dollar bills? Or even bigger bills from bigger ears? From everyone’s ears! And making the whole room wealthy, and eventually making the entire world rich and satisfied! All of our problems solved! What a wonderful thing! And how could I learn to do it?
My father explained to me, after pulling me off the stage (much to the performer’s relief), that things are not always what they appear to be.
That very same thought is what inspired some German theologians, called rationalists, who reflected on this story of the loaves and fishes during the Age of Enlightenment, to offer possibilities, different ways of reading this story.
The Enlightenment. The late 1600’s… thru the 1700’s…. and sometimes I think they were more enlightened than we are now, as we stumble about a few hundred years later, with religion and science once again being cast in opposition to one another, as opponents on a battlefield warring for POWER and CONTROL, rather than acting as partners in helping us to understand and / or simply accept ourselves, each other, and the wonderful universe in which we live.
The rationalists proposed a few possibilities, among them… that seeing the act of a child’s generosity, and the gratitude expressed for it, inspired the people gathered there to respond with their own acts of generosity…. That as the basket was passed… those there who had more food with them than was needed to satisfy their hunger… contributed to the basket…. And those there with a need, received from the basket. In this way, the entire crowd gathered there was able to meet the needs of the crowd. And the people did so through amazing generosity, by letting go of what they might otherwise have held to tightly.
Now, to me, that’s a REAL miracle. Not some meaningless magic trick, or some gift given on a divine whim that is unavailable to the rest of us, but rather a moment….. a moment like a sunrise, that is available to anyone who chooses to open themselves up to the experience… to open themselves up to the beauty of the moment….. to the grassy field, to the needs of their neighbor, to experience, for one glimmering moment, the awesome interconnectivity of everything around them.
For me, a miracle is a moment in which the living Spirit of goodness and generosity moves in us around us and through us … because we have opened ourselves to that possibility. For me, a miracle is a moment in a story when the human and the divine momentarily touch, join, embrace, and kiss… People are inspired with a spirit of greatness……
…rising above the small, petty, and self-centered focus that usually drives us… lifting us to embrace the better angels of human nature….. And suddenly, feeding a multitude with a small basket of fish donated by a child seems well within the reach of a multitude— And suddenly there is a moment in which people must actively participate for the good of needs far beyond their own, transcending their own sense of self. That’s a real miracle.
(We may not sing with Smokey Robinson, folks, but we ARE the miracles).
Of course, the story of the loaves and the fishes is recorded so that you may believe whatever you wish to believe. I am not out to change minds, simply suggest possibilities.
But … let’s take a moment and try it on for size. Let’s step into the story. Let’s become a part of the story ourselves, and see how it feels.
Imagine yourself among the multitude there, 5,000 people standing about, 5,000 tired sweaty people, like an open-air Jimmy Buffett concert, only there are many entire families, all elbow to elbow, some pushing, some shoving…
What happens next? We are instructed to sit down. In a grassy field. Don’t know about you, but I have been to enough open-field concerts and farm parties to know that sitting down in a grassy field is a right relaxing experience.
Suddenly everyone is well grounded, has their space well defined. Begins to relax. Maybe even open up a bit. “Hey, you ready for the Passover feast? Yeah, me neither. But we’re looking forward to it anyway.” What can be more Zen and in the moment than stopping and sitting…. not being anxious… not fretting about… o no on what am I gonna eat!! But stopping, sitting, taking a moment… to just BE.
We look. We see. A child has five loaves and two fishes. Now that a child would have such a bounty packed is noteworthy, as is the fact that the feast of Passover is approaching. We see this new Rabbi… what is he doing? He is … wait… is he going to try to feed all of us with that? (there is laughter) Then… what’s he doing? He is giving thanks! Amazing. He seems to be really grateful for that little bit. And wait now… the little boy is letting go of his meal… and suddenly into the crowd the basket goes….
You look into your own basket or pouch. You have two pieces of fish, 4 packs of crackers, an apple, olives, dates…. it’s more than you need, really… and this person next to you has a full wineskin… and he’s offering you a drink… you know, this is actually quite nice ….
Some people read stories literally, everything as fact, and existing as something completely separate from themselves, apart from who they are as a person. And some people savor stories with delicacy, with delight. Consuming them, absorbing them, letting the story become a part of them, and they a part of it.
In the introduction to his book Gates of the Forest, Elie Wiesil relates a rabbinical story that is often used to communicate the power of narrative .
When the great rabbi Israel Bal Shem Tov saw misfortune threatening the Jews, it was his custom to go to a certain part of the forest to meditate. There he would light a fire, say a special prayer, and the miracle would be accomplished and the misfortune averted.
Later, when his disciple, the celebrated Maggid of Mezeritch, had occasion, for the same reason, to intercede with heaven, he would go to the same place in the forest and say: “[Creator] of the Universe, listen! I do not know how to light the fire, but I am still able to say the prayer.” Again, the miracle would be accomplished.
Still later, Moshe-Leib of Sassov, in order to save his people once more, would go into the forest and say: “I do not know the prayer, but I know the place and this must be sufficient.” It was sufficient and the miracle was accomplished.
Then it fell to Israel of Rizhin to over come misfortune. Sitting in his armchair, his head in his hands, he spoke to God: “I am unable to light the fire and I do not know the prayer; I cannot even find the place in the forest. All I can do is tell the story, and this must be sufficient.” And it was [Wiesel, 1966, Introduction].
Did the event of the loaves and the fishes happen?
I don’t know. What I do know is that what I have is the story, and stories are powerful. My own faith journey is less about a study of historical facts and events, and more about a search for how I may better fit into my present. And good stories help me do that. Good legends, good epics. it matters less about the context and more about good meaningful narrative. I can get more out of a good episode of Star Trek, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, than most minister’s sermons.
The answer to “What feeds me?” as a person is clear. It is stories.
A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, “I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one.”
The grandson asked him, “Which wolf will win the fight in your heart?”
The grandfather answered: “The one I feed.”
What feeds you? As a person? And do you nourish and nurture and care for that which feeds you? Is it social justice? Personal growth? Economic justice? A sense of community connection? Mowing the grass? Working outside?
What feeds you?
I dare say that each of you have, will, can, and do… seek and find nourishment … satisfying and fulfilling spiritual nourishment …. here. In this community.
This spiritual community is very unique. In many ways, and for many reasons. I love that you are a lay-led. I love that you have done marvelous things as a community. You have spruced up your building, made all sorts of improvements, created a parking lot, new sign, have stood as a testament of social justice to the poor, the hungry, the alone, the wounded, the sick… you sent people to Washington DC to march on the side of love… there is a literal litany of things this community has done.
And today, you are going to feed a multitude…. a multitude that has the opportunity to nourish in return the community that has fed it in so many ways.
And you also have an opportunity to become a part of the story that is unfolding and being told here. I encourage you to open yourself fully to that exciting possibility.
Oh… and speaking to the community,
what is the answer to “What feeds you?”
You do. :