Pieces of Grace

Matthew 14:13-21     Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

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The following includes much content that was drawn from Tom Long's book, Testimony: Talking Ourselves into Being Christian.

Some of my favorite moments in church, I have to admit, have been moments of talking to very young children.  Because, you know, kids say the darnedest things.  You can always bet that any question you ask a young child, in the context of worship or Sunday school, will elicit one of these two answers:  God. Or Jesus.  They just know, even if they have no idea what you’re talking about, that the answer to the question has got to be either God or Jesus.

Anything you might ask them about – the Bible story or the weather or cookies.  It’s all good, because, you know, Jesus.  And God.

And there is something so sweet and genuine about it, I don’t even want to correct them when they’re wrong.  They say the words with such pure love, big smiles on their faces.  It’s great; that’s when we know that we have done something right.  We may get a lot of things wrong, but when our little ones love to talk about Jesus with big smiles on their faces we can be sure we have done something right.

And then I remember one day I was teaching a group of early elementary kids – 5,6,7 year olds – and they were talking about Jesus while they were coloring.  Talking about how much they love Jesus, making me feel so good.  Then one little girl got a serious look and said, “But my mommy says you shouldn’t talk about Jesus too much when you’re not in church.”  Her smile faded; and my heart fell.  You shouldn’t talk about Jesus out in public, because it’s embarrassing.   

I am afraid that just about sums up our attitude toward evangelism.  And my dear brothers and sisters, it does not bode well for the church.

Not that we never invoke his name.  But too often when we’re angry or frustrated – and boy, wouldn’t we be shocked if he answered us?  That would change our mood in a hurry.

And there are other ways, too, when we invoke the name of God that aren’t offensive, but maybe just meaningless – like when we tack “God willing” on to the end of a statement, or when we toss off a “God bless you” when someone sneezes. 

It’s empty God talk; it might point, in a vague way, to something beyond ourselves but still say nothing about God.  The truth is, that little girl’s mother was right; real, authentic God talk makes people uncomfortable. 

You may want to push back right about now and ask, “Why should we talk about God? What’s the point?”  I don’t want to make people uncomfortable; I don’t want to be uncomfortable.

So why, then, should we talk about God?  Maybe because leaving God out of the narrative of your life is like leaving your parents out of your life story.  There are important people in our lives and we can’t simply cut them out of the story.  Try to tell your story without including the people who fed you, cared for you, taught you, held you while you were afraid, mended your wounds when you were suffering.  To do so would be dishonest.  In the same way, as people of faith we can’t leave God out of our stories.  And this is how we talk about God – in the story we tell about ourselves.

Heidi Neumark is a Lutheran pastor who served a church in the South Bronx and wrote a book about her experience there called Breathing Space.  In her book, she tells a story about one Holy Week when the congregation did a passion play, and when they got to the scene of Easter morning and the empty tomb, there were three actors planted in the congregation who stood up, one at a time and said, “I know he is alive because he is alive in me.”  And then they would tell their stories of life difficulties and how they were healed and saved by Jesus.  After the three finished, the play was supposed to continue, but the congregation didn’t know that.  One by one they stood up and said, “I know he is alive because he is alive in me,” one after another giving their testimony, telling their own story.

We don’t all have dramatic stories to tell.  But if we have faith, it is because of the way we have known God to be present in our lives.  We need to know how to tell the stories of our lives using God talk.  Christians are ordinary people with ordinary lives, but all the ordinary things in our lives are illuminated by our relationship with Jesus.  So we may see all these ordinary things in a different light:

Think of every meal as a Eucharist, an opportunity for thanksgiving as we share bread with others and welcome Jesus into the gathering.  So anytime we sit at table with our families or with a friend, or even a stranger we remember Jesus’ words:  whenever you do this, do it in remembrance of me.

Think of living with others in the world as welcoming strangers, showing hospitality, living out the second greatest commandment – love your neighbor as you love yourself.  This is hard, but as Pope Francis said last week about the Syrian refugees, do not think of them as numbers, think of them as individuals, each one with a story of his or her own.  This is the only way we can truly show hospitality, truly love our neighbors.

Think of finding a job as finding your vocation, the work that God has prepared you for.  In fact, any life decision becomes about discerning the ways God is nudging you, leading you.  All the stories of all the twists and turns of our lives, the forks in the road, these are opportunities to see where God is speaking to you.

And think of raising children as instilling seeds of faith in them and supporting them in their growth toward discipleship. 

When we seek to live intentionally as Christ’s disciples, everything in our lives is suddenly lit up by that decision.  Then our own story becomes our testimony.  This is how we share the good news.  We don’t have logical proof or possession of the whole story of God.  What we have is testimony.  It’s like loaves and fishes. 

When Jesus turned to his disciples and said to them, “You feed these people,” it must have been frightening for them.  Here was an enormous crowd, as Matthew tells it, 5000 men plus women and children besides, out in the wilderness.  No one had planned for food service.  There was no caterer at this event; there was no Kroger's nearby.  There was no way these few unprepared men could feed thousands of hungry people.

But some one, or a few perhaps, had something, and they offered it.  Jesus took what was given and blessed it, and it was transformed into something that could satisfy.  Thousands were fed that day, and there were leftovers.

This is how it is with our lives.  We are called to be Christ’s disciples. We are called upon to share the good news, to feed his sheep, but none of us has what it takes to feed other people.  When we are self-conscious about that, we may hide it away.  We think our own faith is inadequate; our own stories are nothing special.  But if we offer it, God takes what we have and makes it enough.  Then we see the pieces of our lives woven through with God’s grace.

What are the loaves and fishes of your life?  What are the pieces that make up your life?  Some of these pieces we remember because they were wonderful; others we remember because of how hard they were.  And some seem so insignificant we don’t even know why we remember them at all.  But all of the pieces – good, bad, and seemingly insignificant – God has worked through them.

This week I was remembering a few of those pieces in my life.  I thought about Marie.  Marie was one of my mother’s friends from work.  They were both nurses, although Marie was quite a bit younger.  She came into our lives when her fiancé was killed in action in Viet Nam. 

Marie was emotionally devastated. And the loss seemed to take a toll on her physical health, too, which was already compromised by her diabetes.  For reasons that were not explained to me, because I was only 8 years old, Marie moved in with us.

It was lovely.  It was like having a new big sister – without the fighting, just all the love.  I had some serious health issues at the time, and Marie was supportive to me, in a way that no one else could be, because of her own challenges.  I remember a brief conversation with her about it that seems insignificant – but I remember it these many years later, so it certainly was significant.  We loved having Marie in our family.

A couple of years later, Marie met someone and fell in love again.  She wanted my sisters and me to be in her wedding because we had become like sisters to her.  Around that time my own family was going through some financial difficulties and we were forced to leave our home.  Now it was my mother who was devastated.  And Marie was there, helping and supporting us all the way through.  Her love was a lifeline for us at that moment of our lives.

When I look at these pieces of my life through a lens of faith, I see God’s mercy at work through the way these women held one another when they were falling down.  I see God’s hospitality in the way Marie was welcomed into our home, and the way Marie sheltered my sisters and me in our time of need.  I see God’s work through these two women of faith, and their faithfulness planted the seeds of faith in me.  They taught me what faith in action looks like, by their example and by their care for me.  I see God’s grace holding all the pieces together.

So, what is your story?  What are the loaves and fishes of your life?  I hope you will take some time today to reflect on the pieces of your story and imagine how God has been a part of them.  Something that missionaries often say is that wherever you go, God is already there.  When you begin to see things that way, you are on your way to telling your story. 

What We Don't Want to Know

Mark 9:30-37             They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

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So we were watching the republican debates the other night, and at one point Kim just burst out laughing and said, “That guy is fearless!”  I can’t recall which of the 14 guys he was referring to, but it doesn’t matter.  I only mention it because it got me thinking about fear and leadership and I don’t thin they work well together.  I don’t know that good leadership ever comes out of fear.

Not to say that a leader can never have any fears, because fear is a basic human instinct, and a healthy one.  But what he or she does with that fear is important, isn’t it?  The question comes to mind when I hear this story about Jesus’ disciples. 

Mark tells us that Jesus and his disciples are walking along, and Jesus is teaching as they are walking.  This is something he probably did a lot of.  They spent an awful lot of time moving from one place to another – on foot or in boats – and for hours at a time they would be together.  They could talk about baseball, I suppose.  But I imagine Jesus thought it better to take advantage of having a captive audience and try to teach them something. 

He is teaching them some strange things – although this is not the first time he has done so, it may be that it is becoming increasingly strange to them.  He is telling them that “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” 

When I was doing campus ministry I met a woman from China who was studying at the university. She was interested in learning about Christianity and wanted to improve her English, so she and I would meet to read the Bible together.  I remember one day making our way through a gospel passage – I can’t even remember which one it was – and after reading it she looked at me with a dumbfounded expression and asked, “Why did he say that?”  I don’t think I had a very good answer for her, because I was so surprised at the question.

We need to realize that our familiarity with this faith and the gospel story makes us insensitive to how utterly and profoundly strange it is.  We need to realize that the things Jesus was telling his disciples were so bizarre they too must have had expressions of astonishment…unless they quickly masked them to cover their confusion.  No one wants to look like they don’t get it.  But they didn’t get it, and they were afraid to ask.

Why were they afraid to ask?

We lingered over this question at the roundtable this week.  We wondered why they were afraid to ask.  It might have been for fear of looking stupid.  For some reason we enjoy ridiculing people as being stupid.  Donald Trump does it every time he gets in front of a microphone, and people laugh.  We are more offended by being called stupid than if we were charged with any of the seven deadly sins, so it is very likely the disciples wished to avoid appearing stupid.  But there might have been something more.

Perhaps they were afraid that what he was saying was true.  Perhaps they didn’t fully understand it, but they understood enough to know that what he was saying didn’t sound pleasant, or easy, or in any way good.  Perhaps they were afraid of knowing more.

That’s very human, isn’t it?  They comprehended enough to know that this was not something they wanted to comprehend. 

But as they continued on their walk, apparently they lagged behind Jesus, maybe trying to create some distance from him, and talked amongst themselves.  About what?  About the things Jesus had been teaching them?  About how they were going to follow his example and practice his teachings?  No – they talked about who among them was the greatest.  I know, right?  How does one get from “the Son of Man will be betrayed into human hands” to “I’m the greatest!”  I will tell you how.

Sometimes fear makes us grasping, selfish, avaricious.

There is a character that captures this phenomenon amazingly well in Jane Smiley’s novel, The Greenlanders.  This is a story about the men and women who lived in this cold and inhospitable place in the 14^th century, far away from the rest of the inhabited world.  The winters here are long and harsh, such that the primary concern throughout the year is having enough food to make it through until spring.  When the snow begins to fall they lead the cows and sheep indoors.  When the spring arrives they carry the animals back outside, because they are too weak to walk.

There are stories of men who are able making the rounds of the settlements in the late winter to check on others, sometimes finding whole households have taken to their beds, even lying one on top of another to stay warm.  These families have run out of food and energy, and merely hope to sleep until spring – and then awaken.

During one terrible winter, a priest is making his rounds of the parish and comes to the home of a woman named Vigdis.  He opens her door without warning and is stunned to see this woman standing at a table cutting meat and stuffing food in her mouth.  She is, in fact, surrounded by food – cheeses, hanging birds, sealmeat and blubber, vats of sourmilk.  She is enormously fat, fatter than he has ever seen her before, and Smiley writes that the priest “saw at once that she had responded to the hunger of the settlement by consuming and consuming without cease.” 

She has been hoarding food for probably ten years.  As people around her are starving to death she is growing ever more gluttonous.  As men and women are vanishing to skin and bones and parents are burying their children, Vigdis grows fatter and fatter.  She is killing her neighbors with her greed.  Amazingly, the men who work for her are content to look the other way because they get enough food for themselves and their families to get by.  The title of this chapter is “The Devil.”

Fear can make us grasp in some unbecoming ways.  And it was very likely fear at work among the disciples – fear that the one who was leading them was walking into a deadly trap – which drew them into a boasting contest about who was the greatest.  They had already heard that to be his followers they would need to deny themselves, to take up their cross and follow him.  And they had also seen him in all his transfigured glory when he ascended the mountain, with Elijah and Moses at his side.  They had seen the power and the glory and they had been told of the suffering and submission; they did not care to see how these things reconciled with each other.

They did not like the idea of suffering and obedience unto death any more than we like this idea.  We prefer the comfortable path, although we admire Jesus for taking the harder path.  In contrast to the disciples, we have actually grown quite comfortable with the notion of Jesus’ suffering.  But we are still no different from these disciples when it comes to comprehending what it means to follow him.

When confronted with the invitation to submit our wills and our bodies to God’s will, we are more likely to display some of that worldly wisdom James speaks of and grasp for whatever we can get our hands on.  And the more we feel threatened the more we will grasp.  Fear never drives good leadership, I am sure of that.

On the other hand, James would say, submission to God is born of that pure wisdom from above, which yields gentleness, mercy, and peace.  In this paradox of strength and submission, suffering and glory, we find salvation.  Or, as Fanny Crosby put it,

Perfect submission, all is at rest,

I in my Savior am happy and blest,

Watching and waiting, looking above,

Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

May you be a follower of Jesus, wherever he leads you.  

May you seek not to be the first, but to submit to God’s wisdom.  

May you find your rest in him.

God's Preferences

James 2:1-10 My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?

You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it.

Mark 7:24-37 From there he set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice, but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. He said to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” But she answered him, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” Then he said to her, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.

Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.” And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. They were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”

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When our kids were younger Kim used to say to them, “You’re my favorite 9-year-old son” or “You’re my favorite 13-year-old daughter.”  It was his humorous attempt to make each one of our children feel uniquely loved without showing favoritism.  I always thought it was very clever and sweet.

I think most siblings spend a substantial amount of time trying to figure out who is Mom’s favorite and who is Dad’s favorite – even when they are grown up and getting old and Mom and Dad are long gone.  And most parents, if they are aware of having a favorite, spend a substantial amount of energy trying to mask that, trying to treat all their children equally.  Because they love all their children and they don’t mean to have a favorite.

We definitely play favorites when it comes to the question of how we treat members of our family compared to those outside our family.  And when it is a choice between members of our community and those outside our community.  We usually favor those with whom we have a connection, because we feel some responsibility for them but also because there is a give and take in those relationships. 

The question of favoritism comes up in the James passage, and in this case it is a matter of favoring those who are favored. 

Go to the check out line in the grocery store and look at the magazine covers: Us, Star, People magazine – they are all plastered with photos of the beautiful rich and famous, whom we love to look at and hear about.  Pick one up and read through it – it will only take a few minutes, because there’s nothing to read.  It’s all photos of beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes.  These are the people we favor with our attention and our money.  Why?  Because they look fine. They have been favored by God and nature – and that’s attractive to us.

Go to a high school – in the cafeterias and other places where students congregate freely see how they group themselves.  For those of us who graduated high school a long time ago, try to remember:  where did you sit; whose team were you on; whose team did you want to be on?  And if you weren’t included among the beautiful people, I’ll bet you were still very aware of them and what they were doing.  Those who are favored get our attention.

Apparently it wasn’t any different in the early church, and James has some stern words for these people.  He flat out tells them, “You must not be Christians, judging by the way you show favoritism." 

We reflected on this matter at the roundtable this week.  We tried to take an honest inventory of the ways we favor some people over others.  Those who are able to give a lot of money to the church might be favored.  I don't think those who give generously to the church expect special treatment.  Nonetheless, we worry about keeping them happy.

Families are sometimes favored over single people or empty-nesters.  And I have been the recipient of this kind of favoritism.  Years ago when we walked into a new church in a new community with a bunch of young children they practically rolled out the red carpet for us.  I was really impressed with their hospitality.  But not everyone who came in received that kind of treatment.

To put it bluntly, we tend to favor those who can give us something we want.  More children for our Sunday school program, more money for our checking account, or just be the pleasure of being near someone who is spectacularly successful.  We play favorites, and James says, “Stop doing it, because that is not what Jesus is about.”  So in this context, it is very interesting to see how Jesus treats the Syrophoenician woman in Tyre.

She is bold to approach him in the first place, for more than one reason:  She is a woman, and women did not approach strange men in public.  And furthermore, she was a gentile.  Jews did not like to interact with gentiles, because of the purity issue that we discussed last week.  This was the same basic issue that led to the dispute about handwashing: certain things and people are considered unclean.  If you interact with a person who is unclean you must follow it with a ritual of purification, which was kind of a hassle.  For practical reasons then, many Jews avoided having contact with those who were labeled unclean.  And it wouldn’t be at all unusual for Jesus to want nothing to do with her.

Nonetheless, this woman approached Jesus to beg his favor – a bold thing to do.  She would have risked anything, because her child’s life was at risk. She knew Jesus by reputation to be a man of power and compassion, so he might be the one to help her. 

We, too, know Jesus to be a man of strength and compassion, and that is why his words to her are shocking.  “I need to feed the children, not throw their food to the dogs,” meaning the children of Israel are his first priority. The children of Israel will be favored – not a dog like this Syrophoenician woman. 

It’s hard to accept such unkind words coming from Jesus, even if it was the conventional wisdom of the day.  But the story doesn’t end here, for the woman’s response is brilliant:  “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the table.”  To which Jesus says, according to the Common English translation, “Good answer!”  Because it was a good answer; one that you would expect Jesus himself would give.

The woman’s daughter is healed, and immediately we go on to another encounter with another gentile, whom Jesus heals without question or prevarication, using some mysterious concoction of spit and strange words.  In the end, Jesus shows favor to these men and women who need it most.  But his words to the Syrophoenician woman are not without meaning.  In his way he is telling Israel and all the world that God still favors God’s chosen people, but just as much, God favors anyone who stands in need.

God favors anyone who stands in need.  This is not inconsistent with the Law of Moses, as it is written in the Old Testament.  Israel is again and again commanded to show mercy to those who need it, those within the family of Israel and those outside.  God’s favor is with the needy.

In Catholic Liberation Theology this is called God’s preferential option for the poor.  It sounds as though God is playing favorites – the very thing we are cautioned against doing.  But there is an important difference. 

We are not living in an equal world, to state the obvious.  It is undeniably true that some people have been favored with material wealth of all kinds.  You might have a theory about how or why this is so.  Some people see it as a sign of God’s favor, and there are biblical grounds for that.  But, even so, you can’t erase the biblical mandate to share generously and care for those in need.  I think there are a whole host of reasons why some people have so much more than others.  But the reasons aren’t important when you know that God wants us to care for those in need.  Period.  God has a preference for this: that we share the love and the wealth with those who are in need.

God favors all who stand in need – those who sit at the table and those who are under the table waiting for crumbs to fall – and there will always be crumbs that fall.  In fact, if we are doing it right, there will be more crumbs than are needed!

As we turn our hearts to the sacrament at the table of Christ, we might remember that this is something he shared with us when we were the outcasts, the ones who stood in need, the ones who waited for the crumbs to fall.  This is the feast he set for us, the needy ones.

As we go into our week – our work, our socializing, our school – let us consider the ways we have been favored, and consider the ways God is asking us – expecting us – to share the favor with others; the favor of our attention, our time, our love, as well as our goods.  Do the unexpected – share with someone who really needs it.