The Gospel Restaurant - God's Grace is on the menu

Sermon, by Pastor Nelson

Tenth Sunday After Pentecost

July 28, 2024

2 Kings 4:42-44

Psalm 145:10-18

Ephesians 3:14-21

John 6:1-21

(Seventeenth Sunday in ordinary time,

Turtle island)

We begin this journey for the next six Sundays. When I preached on communion the last time I was with you, I did not know I would be with you again for these six Sundays.

Last Sunday you heard Mark’s version of the “bread miracles.”  Now for these next five Sundays we will be working with the Gospel of John’s ideas about the “bread miracles.”  Then on September 1, we will return to the Gospel of Mark.  I hope that even though you might not “listen” to all my six sermons, you will take the time to read them. I certainly will not pretend to have all the answers to life, but I will try to speak to life through these six Sundays of lessons.

We have a tendency to think that the four gospels all say the same thing. That is far from the truth. The writers of the four gospels each had a unique theology.  Briefly, Mark stresses the role of the community in the feedings, while the writer of John zeros in on Jesus’ role. Mark emphasizes the peoples’ action, John focuses on the bread and wine itself. Our second lessons from Ephesians try to highlight the community’s importance to give balance to John’s version. Thus, you will see some variations in the Ephesian Pericopes I use and the one in the ELW, our red book today. In the old red book [SBH) published in 1958, [some of you might be old enough to remember it, (the year I graduated from high school)]  we would use Matthew one week, Luke the next etc.  Now I know many of you are saying, “Pastor, who cares?”.  Well quite frankly I do not think I would be preaching today, if the church had not introduced the three-year cycle of lessons twenty years later in 1978.

Ok, that is more than you ever wanted to know. So, let us look at our lessons for today. This Sunday’s readings focus on sharing and practicing virtues so that the bond of unity can be preserved within the human community and among all its members. The readings today remind us that we have all been given the one spirit who lives and breathes within us and among us. An unnamed servant of Elisha is hesitant that the 20 loaves of barley bread he brings to the prophet, will not be enough to feed the 100 people. But Elisha was confident that the loaves would be enough to provide food for all. The loaves were distributed, and some bread was even left over.

Now what is the miracle here?

- is it the fact that 20 barley loaves suddenly multiplied in number or that each loaf grew in size?

- or was the miracle that all the people became truly conscious of one another and took only what they needed from a loaf, so that others could also have a share of the bread, with no one going hungry and no one doing without?  

The people in the first parish I served in Drumheller, AB were mainly people of Danish ancestry. They liked to eat, and so did this Young Swede. At every gathering there would be a cake or two. The cake would never be cut and parceled out. The whole cake would be passed around, and you would cut your own slice.  I soon learned, most people always took smaller pieces when they cut their own. No Elisha was not divine, but he knew that God works miracles through people who cooperate with the work of God in the world. There are a few politicians who I wish could understand that. Our Psalm today, 145, calls upon all creation to give thanks to God.  We as God’s faithful people are to bless God, and everyone is to talk about how our needs are satisfied if we could only work together as both human and non-human life. That there is enough for all has been demonstrated in Second Kings, and I have not even gotten to the second lesson and the gospel.

In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul urges the believing community members at Ephesus to live a life worthy of the call they have received. They are to follow the way of the Christ who embodied a virtuous life of love. Paul’s words of encouragement highlight specific virtues that the community members are to practice so that they can preserve the unity of the spirit through the bond of peace. Diverse as they may be, the people are essentially one body and one spirit. Through that communion, they are also united to God whose spirit remains alive in the midst of all creation. Here then is the message that needs to be heard so much in our day. [a life lived in humility, with patience and the ability to bear with one another through love also safeguards right relationships and ensures the practice of civility among the community’s many members.]

Now I know that is a mouthful, but that is the gospel. Please remember, when these letters by Paul and his fellow missionaries were written, the Greco-Roman world would not have heralded humility, gentleness, and patience as virtues.  In fact, in the Greco-Roman society, the above virtues would have been looked on as vices. Is it not interesting that the above has become so true today in some political circles? Paul’s directive that the community members bear with one another through love, highlights what Paul considered to be the greatest of all virtues—love. Remember Saul would have been spouting the same views as some of our political leaders do today, if he had not “fallen off his horse” and become Paul. In Ephesians today we hear that not all the people at Ephesus, even the Christians, were on the same page. They were at different stages of faith and growth. They had diverse temperaments and differences of opinions. In fact, diversity was to be celebrated and was never meant to be a stumbling block toward or for unity. Would it not be something if we understood that today? Finally, Paul and his fellow writers pushed a life of virtue grounded in love. It sounds so simple but yet it is so complicated. Are there any politicians of different stripes today who would have a beer with each other after the workday is done?   Just asking.

Well, I better get to the gospel of John. The gospel from John develops the theme of sharing, that we heard earlier in Second Kings. Captivated by Jesus’ healings, a large crowd followed Jesus, and he wanted to feed them. But buying food for such a large group would have been impossible. Andrew, one of Jesus’ disciples, draws attention to a young boy with five barley loaves and two fish. Sounds like our first lesson, eh?   Andrew immediately realizes, five loaves and two fish is not going to do it.  You can just hear him saying to himself, “why did I even mention it?”.  Well like Elisha before him, the people are all fed by the miracle of sharing. Jesus’ question to Philip is similar to the one Moses and others asked of god in the desert.  Jesus’ question to Philip is genuine and Philip’s response to Jesus is also genuine. The crowd is large, and feeding everyone is humanly and financially impossible. Once again, because people share, scarcity becomes abundance and mindfulness guards against over-consumption. 

How big a piece of cake do we really need? This Sunday’s readings remind us that we live in a world of abundance.

 - when the global human community learns to share and embrace a life of virtue, maybe then world hunger will be eradicated.

 - if miracles like the above have happened, maybe they can happen again?

When we are tempted as individuals or even as a country to think we can go it alone, we need to take another look at these scriptures for today. How should we live?

- by having patience with one another,

- by striving for humility and patience,

- by preserving unity among us,

- and by trusting that god will feed us and sustain us.

How? By realizing that God works through people just like us. Today’s gospel account of the feeding of a huge crowd shows us how Jesus was concerned with people’s physical needs while at the same time he was obviously not a political leader. I see so much of our local leaders in church and state, who get so tied up in political games that they forget their main “job” is to “feed” the people. When the crowds wanted Jesus to be a king, Jesus escaped into the mountains to pray. We in the church often forget that we are to be about more than physical hunger and political liberation. Yes, we need more than just food for physical hunger. When we get totally caught up in bread for hunger, we often forget the “bread of life.”  I know, I as a pastor, can say all kinds of flowery things, but, as we leave here today, trying to meet our responsibilities in daily life and encountering all of our ordinary limits and frustrations, we must believe that God is with us forever.

Presbyterian candidates for ordination are asked: “will you pray for and seek to serve God with energy, intelligence, imagination, and love?”  Imagination is part of ministry; a dimension of good reading and pastoral wisdom is to step back and ask occasionally about those we know best. “Who is this person?” Is to remember that each of us is fully known only to God. If we allow God to work through us, mighty things may happen. Grace is like water in the atmosphere, it cannot be diminished, but it can be redistributed. Look at what has been happening with floods while other places have drought.

We have a role in how god works within us and among us. Though God is present, divine action sometimes requires consent, and even collaboration among us. Quite simply, God does not force herself on us. It was no accident that immediately after Jesus was rejected in his hometown, Jesus sent the disciples out as strangers into new places. Their words, like wine, were to be poured into new wine-skins.

Through these next weeks we will hear of:

-           Elisha feeding 100 men, manna in the wilderness,

-           Elijah being fed by an angel,

-           Wisdom preparing a feast and inviting all to share,

-           And Jesus multiplying bread for many.

In each case those who ate were challenged to look beyond the gifts of nourishment in order to more intimately know and appreciate the giver. The people in today’s gospel were drawn to Jesus because they had a hunger for god. They followed Jesus into the wilderness because they were aware that their own lives were a wilderness. They hungered for something new. They wanted more than their ordinary lives were able to offer. But then something strange happened. Jesus gave them bread and fish. So they then wanted to make him their king.

Beware of politicians who offer us “free lunch.” Jesus was smart enough to flee from the crowds, most politicians can not do that. God has enabled us to develop technology that allows us to feed great multitudes. But we, like the people in today’s gospel are tempted by the miracles and want to make god the king of technology or even worse, technology becomes our king. Today and for the next five weeks, we will be reminded of the balance that must be kept. If we have been blessed, the gifts we have been blessed with must be shared. Love, mercy, forgiveness, companionship, peace and fulfillment are all hungers that we will try to fulfill. If we strive for that, we will find that God is always ready to satisfy our hungry hearts. But when we find ourselves clinging to safety nets and building walls for protection, we might have to return to a point where our sense of safety has to disappear. 

I think Thomas Dorsey said it best.

Precious lord, take my hand,

Lead me on, let me stand,

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.

Through the storm,

Through the night,

Lead me on, lead me to the light.

Take my hand, precious lord,

Lead me home.

[ELW 773 v. 1]

Amen

Imperfect, Exhausted, Impatient, worn out...But on the Right Path

Sermon, by Pastor Joel

Ninth Sunday After Pentecost

July 21, 2024

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Psalm 23

Ephesians 2:11-22

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

(The context of this sermon is 100%

written by a human)

In our gospel this morning, we hear that Jesus and the disciples were worn out. They had been teaching and helping other people so much that they had barely had time to eat. Yet more people kept on coming. Jesus takes pity on the weary faces of the apostles and says, let’s take a break; let’s go away where we can eat and rest in quiet. Let’s take a vacation, he tells them. I think we need it.

And yet, when they tried, the people saw where they were going and followed. And Jesus, we hear, had compassion on them – these sheep without a shepherd – and continued to work and care for them, and listen to them and teach, to give them a voice and value in the world. And the vacation was put on hold.

The lesson here is not that we should never take a vacation. Which is good news, indeed, as I look forward to heading to Nova Scotia. As we know, Jesus would eventually take the disciples on a respite up into the mountains, and he himself went alone into the desert to think. Time alone, to speak quietly to God, to hear our own thoughts, just to rest, away from the business of life, is not only part of the gospel story – it is an essential part of it. For Jesus and the disciples return from those times away wiser and better because of them.

This is a lesson about leadership – a question that seems most topical these days. We have many varied examples of it and many ways we might consider what makes a good leader. We have examples in our political leaders of those who struggle to do right and those who appear to care only to do right by themselves. That can be complicated and nuanced as we watch our neighbors finalize their candidates for president, and many of us worry about the state of that leadership in the years ahead and what it will mean for the rest of the world. If the war in Ukraine has taught us anything, it is the difference that leadership – indeed, one person – can make in the world. One leader who refuses to give up on his country. Another leader who rules with an iron and violent fist.

But we don’t have to consider what good leadership looks like – we have our frame of reference – enough so that we might celebrate good leaders and see clearly the false ones.

For we have Jesus, who, even exhausted, cared not for his own needs, but for those of the people who needed him. Jesus did not elevate himself or line his own pockets. He called out people for their lies and hubris. He welcomed strangers and loved those whom society had deemed unworthy. Importantly, he practiced compassion – exhibiting empathy to understand those he sought to teach the gospel. He demonstrated patience in serving their needs. And mercy for their mistakes. With this example, we might so clearly assess the leaders around us.

But Jesus, let’s be clear, demonstrates an aspirational form of leadership few of us can hope to attain, or at least hope to demonstrate every day. Even Jesus lost his temper on occasion.

In our first lesson, we are offered the example of King David, and an important lesson from his own leadership. David, whom we know most famously for his brave victory over Goliath. He had a backstory that was similar to that of Jesus: growing up poor, the youngest son in a line of brothers, a shepherd, who rose up in power when, by society’s rules, it should have gone to someone else.

He was a good king, but he was not a perfect one. He did unethical things – all recorded in the scripture – including sending a soldier to the frontlines of a war because he coveted the man’s wife. But he didn’t hide behind lies when this happened. He acknowledged his failing, he returned to God for forgiveness, and he looked for a better path.

And in our reading this morning, we hear that he wanted to build a grand temple in God’s name, and that God tells him not to do this, that God does not need a new temple. God tells David that it is more important to build up the kingdom, the society, and to focus his attentions elsewhere. And David agrees.

What example does this set for us? How might King David inform our modern idea of leadership? We see clearly that we are not expected to be perfect in leadership; no one can be. We will all make mistakes, but when we do, we admit them, and we try to fix them.

And we also see that leadership cannot be about what we want – in David’s case to build his temple – it must be about what God wants, about the work that should be done for the greater good. Leadership is not about making ourselves feel bigger; it is about those who feel small becoming equals. Easy to forget, when we have the power – in our communities, at work, at home, or in our marriages. But so necessary to remember.

When the confusing curves of life hit, we can lead together for the sake of the journey that lies ahead. I’ve seen it happen with many families and many marriages. Sacrificial love for the sake of the other when it truly matters. There is no better example of leadership.

So, we have today a clear definition of the gospel-led leader: an imperfect person who admits when he or she errs and seeks to make amends, someone who directs their energy not for their own elevation, but to the exhausting and necessary work of making society better. Someone who is brave when it is required, but not bombastic. Someone who sets the needs of others above their own.

It is the summer, and I hope you all get some rest. It is important to feed our souls in quiet moments of our own choosing, so that we might return invigorated. But remember the gospel this morning: even in those moments, we are still called to lead as Jesus did.

Amen

Lift Up Our Heads to Balance Honour and Duty

Sermon, by Pastor Joel

Eighth Sunday After Pentecost

July 14, 2024

Amos 7:7-15

Psalm 85:8-13

Ephesians 1:3-14

Mark 6:14-29

(The context of this sermon is 100%

written by a human)

What is the line between duty and honour? It’s clearly a question that concerns us, since it’s been long-debated among humans. Indeed, it was the core question of last’s year Best Picture winner, Oppenheimer. The American scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer surely did his duty, building the atomic bomb – and quite likely saving the world from a much longer war. But was his decision honourable? That was a question Mr. Oppenheimer wrestled with all his life.

Throughout history, humans have tricked themselves to ignore honour for the sake of duty. But the space between duty and honour is similar to the distance between law and grace. We rarely live simply in one or the other.

Now John the Baptist, who is certainly, to my mind, one of the most honourable men of the Bible, was always getting himself into trouble. He told it like it was. And that made people not like him so much.

He wasn’t shy about laying down the line between duty and honour, and busting up a lot of rules people were all too happy to follow back then. Duty was fine – important even – to John. It is what laid out your obligation to one another.

But the gospel, and Jesus who was coming, were adding the better part of it -- the honour of doing the right thing -- not out of duty, but because it is the right thing. John made a lot of people uncomfortable – mostly the people enjoying the benefits of everyone else below them doing their duty.

This morning’s gospel has several examples of the conflict between duty and honour. First, we hear that there is tension between Herod and John because Herod’s wife, Herodias, doesn’t like John. She is perhaps understandably threatened by John because he is telling Herod that his marriage to Herodias is invalid. Herod has married his brother’s wife, while his brother was still alive. John, understandably, objected.

Herodias wants to make sure that John the Baptist stays out of her way. She waits for the appropriate time at a party where her daughter wins a good will gesture from Herod in front of all the guests. The daughter asks for the head of John the Baptist.

And suddenly Herod is caught in his promise – he is trapped by his oath. We are told, clearly, that he wasn’t happy about it: he was deeply grieved. But out of a sense of obligation – to his family and guests -- he acquiesces. This is where the line between duty and honour sometimes blurs – for while keeping a promise is honorable, surely keeping a bad promise is not.

But Herod made his choice, and John was beheaded in prison, and his head served on that now famous platter – giving us our saying. In an instant, John the Baptist becomes the scapegoat for disorder in Herod’s life.

How can we know the difference, and make the choice for ourselves? As we saw in the story, Herod, on his own, would have had trouble getting rid of John the Baptist even if he’d wanted to. But the voices around him helped push him along, gave him an out, an excuse. How often do we suffer those same voices – ones that confuse or distract us, tear down our self-esteem, make us hesitant to act? It may be our families, as in Herod’s case. But it is often the messages of society that work the same inside all of us.

How many of us have kept our heads down from the truth that lies in front of us? We would do well to listen to the Psalmist who invites us to “lift up our heads, so that the King of glory may come in.”

Duty without honour often becomes the mistake we most regret. It was that for Oppenheimer. And for Herod as well, who thought he had handled the problem with a simple command until he hears about the growing authority of Jesus among the masses. He says: “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.” His dishonourable act had solved nothing but, in fact, created more problems, beyond the weight on his own soul.

Herod had people to blame – his wife, his daughter, the pressure of his position. But be careful with scapegoating; in the end, it rarely assuages our own queasiness about the choices we have made.

And the problem with Herod’s story is that it is clear to us: of course, Herod should have broken his oath and refused to a do a dishonorable thing. (Let’s remember, he probably wasn’t all that sad to dispatch John, who was bound to cause trouble with the existing order.) Our choices may be less clear: we might say, just this one time won’t hurt; it’s not that big a deal. But like small lies, small dishonorable acts get easier the more they happen.

And so we have the choice, from Jesus, to walk in the space between duty and honour, law and grace – not bound to either, but with the free will to adapt our lives to the right choice in every minute. In this way we are able to live guided by duty defined by honour and shaped by law and balanced by grace. We can say, yes, I made a promise, which is law, but in this case, that promise has proven to be hurtful, which defies grace. I will follow the rules until the rules that favour law at the expense of grace. We can say my duty is to my family, to my community and to my church – but that duty itself must always meet the standard of honour.

May we choose this life of complexity that John revealed to us, and Jesus showed to us. That is the dutiful, honorable life, guided by law, but shaped by grace. Amen