Toward Sunday, August 31, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 16:13-26
Sermon theme:  Take up your cross

Take up your cross and follow me..."

This is what can happen when you don't agree with others (or they don't agree with you) about who should be bound and kept out of the community, and who should be set free to be as much a part of it as anyone else.

In Matthew 16 when Jesus tells us to "take up our cross and follow him" (v.24) he is calling us specifically to follow him in opening the kingdom and welcoming into the community of grace, people whom others may think should be excluded (vv. 17-19), and to accept the cost that may come when we do this (vv. 21-23).

The reference in v. 19 to "binding and "loosing" is to the work of the rabbis in interpreting what God's law prohibits and what it allows, and making clear what kind of people are bound to their sin or brokenness and excluded from the community of the righteous, and who is free (or loosed) to be included in the community.  Early on in the Gospel, Jesus takes on this work himself in the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7) where he repeatedly criticizes the rabbis' interpretations of God's Law for excluding too many from the community of grace and reinforcing the self-righteousness of a few.  Then he continues to preach, teach, heal and forgive people in a way that emphasizes the wideness of forgiveness and mercy at the heart of God's Law, and makes the point that even though the rabbis and religious leaders who exclude people seem to have God's Law on their side, they are wrong in their interpretation.

He knows this puts him at odds with the traditional leadership and will lead to crucifixion (v. 21), but he says this is the proper work not only for him but also for us as his disciples (vv. 22-26). 

• Who is bound today and kept outside the circle (and how are they bound), either individually because of their sin, or as a group because of something unacceptable or prohibited about them?
• What do we understand God's Spirit and God's Word to be saying about this today?
• What might be the cost of affirming and acting out the Spirit of mercy in God's Law?
• What happens when Christians disagree, or interpret God's Law differently?

Toward Sunday, August 31, 2014

Sorry ... under revision; available by 5:30 pm EDT, Aug 27

Sermon from Sunday, August 24, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 16:13-20
Sermon:  A growing faith

My name is Peter.  You know me well.  I won’t be long.  Like everyone else I want to get over to the Peach Festival before your pies are sold out.

But I want to talk with you a bit about my faith because apparently it’s my faith – and yours as you share it, that is the bedrock foundation of our being Jesus’ church – a community of light and hope in the world.  And I wonder sometimes about it – about my faith.

Every time I meet Jesus my faith seems to grow bigger.  It grows deeper; I become even more fully grounded in him, more appreciative of him and happy to be Christian.  But it also grows broader and wider; it seems to take in and cover more territory – become more open to things I once thought were maybe outside the boundary of faith in him.

Like the day Jesus and we were walking near the city of Caesarea Philippi.   It was always a hard city for us.   From long ago days it was the centre of a pagan cult dedicated to Pan, one of the pantheon of Greek gods.  In our time it was a Roman administrative centre – one of the places Rome set up in our country to send its tentacles into all our lives, all the better to control and suck the life from us.  

The city was beautiful.  Philip the Tetrarch spent millions rebuilding it to make it a showcase.  But it was a showcase of Roman pride and arrogance.  There really was idolatry at work there.  It was right around that time that Philip minted new coins to commemorate what he called his “great founding” of the city, and the coins had his image on them.  His image!  What idolatry!

We didn’t go into the city, but I wouldn’t be surprised if just being near it prompted Jesus to ask what he did – the questions of identity and allegiance that we should have expected.  It was hard to be near that city and not feel that your commitments were being tested, and that for the sake of your soul you really needed to declare yourself.

So he asked, “Who do people say that the Son of Man is?”  

As soon as we heard the question, I was nervous.  I think we all were.

“Son of Man” is a loaded image for us.  It was the prophets of old who promised the coming of “a person as unto a son of man” to set all things right and bring an end to evil and history as we know it.  By our time the Son of Man was a kind of superhero from God who would come with holy words and powerful actions to avenge evil and put an end to it, to protect the good and make the world safe for all God’s people and creatures. 

We debated sometimes if the Son of Man had already come and maybe done his work, or if he was still to come, or if maybe he was already among us.  So when Jesus asked us who people saw as the Son of Man, we assumed he thought people saw him as that One.  And we had to tell him, no.  

We knew we couldn’t lie to him – couldn’t pretend.  So we stammered, “Well … some say John the Baptist is the Son of Man,” and we could see why people thought that; he did come on like an avenging angel ready to set all the world right.  “And … some say Elijah was the Son of Man – that great old prophet who stood up in bygone days against the king and his idolatrous advisors.”  “Others say Jeremiah – you like him, Jesus; some say his words still have the power to undo evil and make room for what’s right in the world.”  “And other prophets, too, Jesus.”

In the nervous silence we slowly became aware Jesus was not upset.  In fact he seemed content that when people either prayed to God or thanked God for an avenging, finally-setting-things-right kind of presence in the world, his was not the first name on their lips.  He seemed relieved.

I think I was too, because there’s some aspects of the Son of Man – like his extreme vengefulness, that just don’t seem to fit the Jesus I know.

Also, I wonder, was Jesus maybe also happy to know that people recognized other messengers of God apart from him – that he was not the only one people looked to, that people knew the truth of God is too big to be taught by only one teacher, to be known in only one tradition, to be lived out by only one community – that he and we were not alone in the world?

“So then,” he asked, “if I am not the Son of Man that people are looking for, who do you say I am?”  

It was a direct question – not the kind we’re used to asking one another.  We like to hold our faith in Jesus inside, and keep it to ourselves.  We also don’t like to pry into others’ faith and ask maybe-embarassing questions – not even in worship and other church activities. 

But he asked, so I said, “You are the Christ – the messiah, the son of the living God,” What a wonderful confession of faith, I thought.  As good as the one you say every week: “We believe in God…who has come in Jesus, the Word made flesh, to reconcile and make new.” 

I was pleased with saying it, and waited for his approval.  There was silence – not a disapproving, but a waiting on his part, to see if I might say more.  When I didn’t, he did.

“Yes, Peter – and all of you, now and in ages to come.  I am happy you see me as your leader and teacher.  I want you to know the meaning and the way of true life.  I want to help you live freely and openly as true human beings among other people and before God, warts and all.  Unlike many of your leaders, I want to teach you the way of real community through compassion for the poor, openness to the stranger, humility about ourselves, and forgiveness and blessing of your enemies.  I want to teach you (how do you say?) to celebrate God’s presence, to live with respect in Creation, to love and serve others, to seek justice and resist evil, and to see me crucified and risen as [the] judge and hope of all you do.  

“And when you do this – when you really know and follow me as your messiah, you will be strong no matter what happens; right, no matter how others judge you; and light in a world that lives in much darkness.  You will be a community of light among other communities of light against the darkness that seems always to be here.”

I had to think about that.  I confessed my faith in him as messiah – as leader and lord, and I thought that was what he wanted.  But in response he talked about me – about us, as though in the end it’s at least as much about us as it is him.

And then he said the darnedest thing – the darnedest thing.  He said, “And don’t go telling everyone I am the messiah.”

I’ve wondered about that a long, long time.  And I still wonder.

I know he wants other people to know him.  But was he saying, “Don’t feel like you have to plaster my name on everything you do; let the holiness of what you do speak for itself; if people ask why you do it, tell them; but don’t worry about it”?  I don’t know.

Or is he telling us that belief in him is not the only way of real faith in God and openness to God’s kingdom?  Is he afraid that if we push our faith in him too hard or in the wrong way, other people and even we might start making him and the meaning of messiah into something he isn’t and doesn’t intend?

Or does he want us to remember that it’s not him as some superhero, but us as a community of faith in him that makes the difference the world wants to see, and that God wants to make in the world?

Faith in Jesus is the bedrock foundation of who we are.  I wonder sometimes about it, though.  And as I said, every time I meet him, my faith always seems to grow bigger in some way.

2nd step towards Sunday, August 24, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 16:13-20
Re-working sermon title:  Superman ' R ' us?

Or ... maybe the gospel question is not "superheroes or not", but how we understand and live out superheroism. 

Is it a capital-S Superhero we need and that Jesus is, like the Lone Ranger, Superman, Batman or Pale Rider -- singular, mostly invincible, showing up to save the day when we mere mortals are hopelessly overwhelmed? 

Or is it that we all (including a raccoon and a tree) are called and gathered by a very vulnerable Starlord to become the motley band of misfits known as Guardians of the Galaxy, each of us contributing our own strange gift to the mix? 

 

Although, even with this, there is still that perennially annoying question of just what are our proper weapons as we go about guarding the galaxy.  What sorts of "weapons" will actually save, rather than merely perpetuate the threat to the galaxy's well-being?  Maybe that's where we especially look to our particular starlord for direction, and we need to choose our starlord carefully.

Towards Sunday, August 24, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 16:13-20 ("Who do you say that I am?")
Working sermon title:  Breaking our addiction to superheroes

By the time of Jesus, the image of "the Son of Man" (regardless of its original meaning to the prophets of old) is something like our modern-day "superhero" -- a person miraculously and/or tragically both human and other-than-human, who appears at a critical moment to save the world by avenging evil and protecting the right.

So when Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do people say the Son of Man is" he is asking who do people look to as God's Lone Ranger / Superman / Wolverine?

(I know the picture is fuzzy, but so is some our superhero thinking about God and Jesus.)

Its' interesting no one sees Jesus in the role, even though some pick John the Baptist.  It seems Jesus is not strong, angry, forceful, vengeful, miraculous, more-than-human, or destructive enough to fill the bill.

So he asks, "So if I'm not the superhero who comes into the scene from on high with greater-than-human power to avenge evil and set things right, who do you tell people I am?"

The answer is, "You are messiah, the son of the living God.  You are the one who lives as God does, and who we follow as the way of true and holy living for ourselves.  We don't look to you to fight our battles for us; we look to you as the one who leads us in the way of good and holy community -- truly human life, in our own living."

And Jesus says, "Ah!  Bingo!  And it's people who see me like that who will be the church -- the community of God in the world that no evil can stand against or defeat."

And then he adds, "Any by the way, stop calling me Messiah.  People may get the wrong idea about that, too."

A few questions towards Sunday:

• superheroes are big again (Iron Man, Wolverine, Batman, even Guardians of the Galaxy); in what ways are any of them and Jesus alike -- and un-alike?
• how do we cast Jesus into a superhero role that he doesn't want?
• when evil threatens Gotham City, Commissioner Gordon turns on the bat-light to summon Batman into action; when evil threatens Winona, Hamilton, Niagara, what does a messianic community do?

Sermon from Sunday, August 17, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 15:21-28
Sermon:  The peripheral kingdom

When Jesus goes to Tyre and Sidon, he goes with a specific purpose in mind, and that’s why he responds at first to the Canaanite woman as he does.

 

Jesus is able to focus very strongly on what he is called to do.  This is one of his gifts and strengths that make him who he is.  When it’s time, for instance, at the end to make the journey to Jerusalem to be crucified, the Gospel says, “he set his face toward the city” and nothing deters him from his purpose and his destination.  We see it also in the very beginning, when he faces the tempter in the desert and is able to stay true to what he knows is God’s way for him.  And we see it all the way through his story – this ability to focus and stay true to his calling.

 

We see it in the story this morning.  Like the prophets of old, Jesus is on a mission to draw the people of Israel back to God and help them live more fully as God’s people in the world.  The religious leaders of the day don’t agree with how he’s doing it, but Jesus doesn’t let that stop him.  He tours all of Galilee – a Jewish territory, visiting all the towns and communities, and showing God’s people that God’s kingdom is real, to inspire them to start living the ways of God’s kingdom right now – to help them really be God’s people of light in the world.

 

And now he takes his mission outside the Jewish province to reach the Jews who are living elsewhere as well.  Tyre and Sidon are Gentile territory, but there are Jews living there – who have left Galilee and Israel and are living in little émigré enclaves and minority communities scattered among the Gentiles.  They’ve wandered like lost sheep, but Jesus wants to reach them as with his message about God’s kingdom.  For him at that moment it’s all about renewing and rebuilding the family of God’s people.

 

So when the Canaanite woman shows up at one of Jesus’ gatherings, she’s not the kind of person Jesus is there to talk to and it’s out of this focused mission and his ability to stay on message that Jesus says, “Sorry, I cannot help you.  I am here for the lost sheep of Israel.  I have something for them and it’s only for them.”  He actually says, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs,” showing just how focused Jesus could be on his own people and his ministry to them.

 

The woman, though, does not give up.  She is a nuisance – the kind of person who won’t take no for an answer, who insists on barging in even when she’s not invited, who even though she’s outside the circle expects to be included.  The disciples want her to go away.  They keep saying to one another, “Don’t make eye contact. Just keep walking.”  

 

But from the ground in front of Jesus where she’s insinuated herself, she says, “But Lord, even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”  In other words – you’re right.  I’m not one of you.  But is the love of God that you talk about – the kingdom of God that you say is here, not big enough to have something – even a little something, for me – and for my daughter?”

 

To which Jesus says, “Oh my goodness, yes.  Your faith in the wideness of God’s kingdom is great.  Please forgive my narrow focus and my lack of peripheral vision.  Your daughter is healed, and you are blessed.  Any lost sheep of God’s is a lost sheep of ours; any child of God’s love is a child of ours.  Go home, in peace.”

 

It’s almost as though Jesus is caught changing his focus here.  Jesus had no intention of beginning a mission to the Gentiles.  Like the prophets of old, his focus is on the Jews.  But he is moved by the woman he meets to let go of what his focus has been, and to open himself to what he sees on the periphery.

 

 

Peripheral vision is also a gift and a strength.  The ability to pay attention to what we see on the periphery is also necessary if we are really to serve God.  And it’s one of the things I like about this church.

 

From the time I came here I’ve seen how focused this congregation can be on particular tasks that serve the well-being of the congregation.  It began the first years I was here with the restoration and rebuilding of the organ.  Then there’s been the on-going refurbishing and renovation of the whole building – lower hall, upper room and entrances, now the narthex and this fall the roof.  Next there’ll be what we need to do to make the lower hall and washrooms fully accessible.

 

And it’s not only the building.  There’s the year-in, year-out commitment to the Peach Festival, and to the spaghetti and lobster dinners, and sales.  And all that we do as well to keep our worship and Christian ed program and pastoral care alive and growing.

 

There’s a lot of focused commitment here at Fifty.  Like Jesus we commit ourselves to what our church family needs to be healthy.  We “set our faces” towards the goal of our well-being as a congregation.

 

And – the other side – we also have good peripheral vision.  We see what’s around us and take it seriously – changes in the community, poverty in Hamilton and Niagara, the work of Wesley Urban Ministries, City Kidz and Community Care.  Next month there’ll be a concert at the church by a choral group from Ottawa in support of FORT in Grimsby and the Downs Syndrome Society’s Buddy Walk – all because we see things out of the corner of our eye, and take it seriously as part of what God wants us to embrace.

 

And we need to keep building on this – keep exercising this muscle.  I was thinking this week as I looked at the work on the narthex – now that the enlargement and renovation of our main entrance is almost complete, is God preparing us to be able to welcome some new groups of people into this place who haven’t been here before?  Who might they be?  And why would they come here?

 

I think of it when I think of our Sunday school and VBS.  We focus on providing good Christian ed for our children and grandchildren, and it’s important.  We dare not stop; we probably need to develop even more creative ways of nurturing our children’s knowledge of God and faith in God.  But what about other kids and other people’s children and grand-children, who aren’t part of us?  The ones on the periphery?  They have as much need, but how do we see them?  How do we find them and reach them?  “Any lost sheep of God’s is a lost sheep of ours; any child of God’s love is a child of ours.”

 

This week a lot of people – maybe everyone we know, was deeply affected by the suicide of Robin Williams, and I was touched by something that someone in our community posted on Facebook in response to his suicide: 

Please see our struggle and give us a hug, a kind word, hell a dinner, this is how

our walls will become cracked and eventually crumble. 

We simply don't ask for help because what if you don't hear us?  You see us, but still aren't listening.

We all have a journey, some much more of a struggle than others.  Watch out for one another, don't wait for the words, quite often they don't come. And for some, they come too late.

Don't offer [to] help, just do it.

It sounds like the Canaanite woman.  I wonder how many there are?  Where they are?  What their real needs and illnesses and sorrows might be?  And how we will see them?  Or how they will find us?

 

The love of God that we celebrate – the kingdom of God that we say is here, is surely big enough to include something for them.

 

It’s all about having two kinds of vision – each of them necessary as we journey with Jesus.  One is the ability to focus on and stay committed what needs to be done here, right in front of us – to stay on task and on message; the other is the ability as well to see what’s around, to have good and well-practiced peripheral vision, and to respond with open and generous hearts to what’s there.

Toward Sunday, August 17, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 15:(10-20) 21-28
Sermon: 

Jesus is not the main character in this story of the Gospel.   In this story the heart of God and way of God are revealed by a Canaanite woman -- an outsider who the followers of Jesus at first try to shoo away.

Just before this story, Jesus is arguing with the Pharisees.  Both the Pharisees and Jesus are trying to reform and revitalize the people of God.  The Pharisees have been at it for years seemingly with little lasting success, and Jesus has a different idea.  They focus on purity laws and rules of cleanliness that have developed over the generations, assuming that if the people will just follow the traditions they will be acceptable to God.  Jesus, though, says the rules are empty and hollow, and what's needed is an interior change of heart for the people to begin to feel as God feels, and love as God loves.  It's an ancient, eternal argument in any community of faith between tradition and spontaneity, between holy law and holy spirit, between following sacred tradition and following God's leading in the moment.

After this argument a Canaanite woman finds Jesus and begs for healing for her daughter.  The disciples and Jesus both say in effect, "Don't you see we're busy here?  We're trying to revitalize the people of God, and you're not one of them."  They're still focused on their fight with the Pharisees for the loyalty of the people.

But when the woman persists in her request, Jesus realizes that the most important thing is not whether he or the Pharisees win the hearts and minds of the people.  What matters is that however it happens, the people of God fulfil their purpose in the world -- which is to share the love and healing power of God with all the world.

A few questions to start the week towards Sunday:

• do we get side-tracked into debates about how to revitalize ourselves, when the real question is how shall we share God's love and healing power with others?
• who are the "main characters" on the outside of our story and community (who often get shoo-ed away,) whose requests and need for help reveal the heart and way of God to us?
• what does Jesus mean when he says, "Woman, great is your faith!"  She is not an observant Jew who believes any creed; what is her faith?

Sermon from Sunday, August 10, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 14:22-33
Sermon:  Everything I need to know about discipleship I learned in fifty feet of water

Everything I need to know about being a disciple I learned in fifty feet of water.  Well, maybe not everything; but three things at least.

 

One is that human beings are not meant to walk on water – not created for it, not called by God to do it.  Seems like a no-brainer, but you know me.  I know now it was my ego, but at the time I thought it was all about Jesus.  I thought, “With Jesus, anything is possible.  If he is God, everything is possible.”  I see now you have to be careful what you mean by “anything” and “everything” and how you interpret “possible.”  And maybe even what kind of “God” you have in mind.

 

We were out on the lake in a storm with the wind against us, and we were not too confident.  We were still reeling from the execution of John the Baptist in prison by King Herod.  We weren’t surprised he was in jail; his and Jesus’ message about the kingdom of God put them at odds with the government and the dominant culture of our time.  But when Herod so easily disposed of him it shook us that John’s being a prophet of God and speaking God’s truth about the king in the end didn’t give him any protection.

 

After that the feeding of the thousands momentarily bolstered our belief in the real coming of the kingdom of God.  But now we were out on the sea again – that place of primordial chaos, and we were alone.  Jesus put us in a boat, told us to meet him on the other side where there would be more people to reach with the kingdom of God, and then he disappeared.  

 

Didn’t he know the sailing would be rough, and that against the currents and trends and tides of the world we’d be getting nowhere?  The boat on the sea has always been our symbol of the church in the world, and no matter how hard we rowed and how hard we tried to find a favourable wind we seemed to be getting nowhere, blown off course, maybe even going backward.

 

So when we saw Jesus coming to us across the water we imagined the worst.  They must have got him, too.  They must have killed and silenced Jesus, just like John and just like the world always seems to silence the real prophets, and this was his ghost coming to haunt us.

 

But “Take heart,” he said, in the way he always did.  “It is I,” like Yahweh saying to Moses, “I am that I am” – that holy affirmation of sacred being-with-us.  And “do not be afraid” – the one thing that angels and messengers and Sons of God always say to us to put us at ease.

 

The others in the boat believed when they heard that, and accepted the mystery and grace of his coming to us in the storm.  They waited for him to come and join us in the boat.

 

But me?  Oh, no.  

 

“If you are the Son of God,” I said, “command me to come to you on the water.”  I had to make Jesus prove himself in some special way for my benefit.  And I had to be the one, didn’t I, to be different and special; who could go beyond limits and boundaries; who could go that one step beyond everyone else; who could be just like Jesus – at least like I imagined him.  Only now do I see the devil’s hand in it, like in the temptations Jesus faced in the desert:  “If you are the Son of God, turn these stones into bread … if you are the Son of God, why don’t you claim all power and authority … if you are the Son of God, leap from the top of the temple and God will send angels to protect you from harm.”

 

Jesus humoured me, though, and let me learn the only way I know how – by failing and falling.  I felt so close to him and was so totally focused on him that I really did walk a few steps.  But who was I fooling?  How could I imagine I could do it by myself apart from the others, and why did I imagine that was actually what Jesus wanted me to do?

 

Which brings me to the second thing I learned: boats are good, and that’s why Jesus sends us out in them.  In the boat, for one thing, we disciples are together – listening to one another, supporting and correcting one another in what we feel and believe and think we know, helping one another to see Jesus and God more clearly, seeing and hearing Jesus and God in one another.  The idea of “just-me-and-Jesus” walking on water together is tempting to people like me; far better though is the reality of being with the others in the boat, rowing together in the direction Jesus sets for us.

 

Because the boat does get us through.  As leaky and slow and cumbersome and sometimes too big and sometimes too small it may be, from the Ark of ancient times to the church of tomorrow, the boat is how we get from A to Z, how we find the courage to venture out from safe harbour where we’re really of no use to anyone out there in the world, and how we get to the other side and to the new groups of people Jesus wants to reach out to with us.

 

And even when it is slow going and we seem to be getting nowhere, Jesus is patient with us.  He knows how hard it is sometimes to make headway, whether it’s the tide and trends of the world against us that slows us down, or our own slowness and stubbornness to go in the direction he wants.  Either way, when he was coming to us on the water it was not to scold us for not being further along.  It was to join us wherever we were and to be with us for the rest of the journey.

 

Which is the third thing I think we all learned: that Jesus is always ready to save us wherever we are, rescue us from whatever predicament we are in, and help us find a place in the boat – help us find ourselves among whatever people and in whatever community of belief we need for our own healing and wholeness.  No matter how foolish or sinful or proud any of us – or anyone else, might be at times, there’s a place in the boat for us all and for anyone else who might come along, because that’s just how Jesus is.  It’s how God is.  

 

Neither Jesus nor God want anyone to be out there – either on the sea or another shore, all by themselves.  And if we really believe in Jesus as the Son of God, we’ll use the boat we have to leave the safe harbour behind and go out on the sea like Jesus wants us to, to reach anyone or any group of people who need to know about God’s love and God’s kingdom at work in the world and in their lives.

 

And that’s not the devil talking this time; that’s me and what I learned in fifty feet of water about being a disciple of Jesus.

Toward Sunday, August 10, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 14:22-33 (Walking on Water)
Sermon:  Wanted: disciples -- no walking on water required

When someone tells me "you can't walk on water unless you get out of the boat," I assume they mean well.  I'm sure they intend only to draw me out of my comfort zone into something that will be challenging, but good for me (as long as I keep my eyes on Jesus).

I wonder, though.  Is that what this story really says?  Or have they missed the point?

Reading the story ... Jesus tells the disciples (us) to take the boat (from the earliest times, a symbol of the church or the community of faith) across the sea (a place of chaotic possibilities and anxiety), to join him on the other side (in new territory) in preaching and teaching the kingdom of God to whoever is there (our reason for being).  The going is hard and slow (when isn't that the case with the church?), but even at that there is no suggestion that Jesus ever asks the disciples to abandon ship.  He knows how hard the going is, and he is patient with the progress his disciples are making.

The idea to jump ship and walk on the water comes only from Peter, who tries to bolster his brittle faith in Jesus by asking for a spectacular sign to prove who he is (reminiscent of the famous, "If you are the Son of God..." temptations that the devil throws at Jesus in Matthew 4:1-11).  Jesus humours Peter, invites him out for a water-walk, and then simultaneously rescues him from, and chides him for his little faith and his need for miracles and spectacles.  Then he quietly helps Peter find his place in the boat again with the others (whose faith seems somehow more secure).

One thing, though, lest we conclude that the story is about "staying safe."  The boat is out on the sea on a mission from Jesus.  As hard and slow as the going is, the disciples are steering the boat across the sea of change towards a new and other shore, and to people who Jesus wants to reach with the good news of the kingdom of God.

So as much as we really are not meant (or asked by God) to walk on water, neither is the boat we are in meant to stay quietly anchored in safe haven.  We find security and salvation in the boat, but maybe only as we keep steering and rowing to whatever new place Jesus is wanting to go to with us.

On Sunday we 'll think more about these things, as we worship the God who calls us into the boat and onto the sea.

Sermon from Sunday, August 3, 2014

Scripture:  Matthew 14:13-21

How does it happen? 

 

Jesus and his followers have only 5 loaves and 2 fish to offer, and by the time 5000 men and who knows how many women and children have had their fill there is food left over – 12  baskets full – a basket still full for each of the 12 tribes of God’s people.  How is it that everyone around them is fed and all of God’s people still have more to share?  It’s the kingdom of God come-alive in the world, and it’s good to wonder how it happens.  

 

This week I came across a few answers.

 

 

Maybe the disciples ordered pizza – a tradition maintained to this day by youth groups across the country, making pizza a sacrament of the kingdom as good as bread and wine, and reinforcing the way we sometimes assume we need to order something in – that in ourselves we don’t have what it takes to meet the needs of others around us.

Or maybe there was something extraordinary about the loaves and the fish that were available that day.

 

Sometimes we think if only we had better gifts, bigger resources of some kind then maybe we could be of more use, offer something worthwhile to the world and to people around us.

 

Or there’s also this suggestion of super-natural help from above:

 

We believe in prayer and sometimes it seems all we can do is pray for God and the angels somehow to intervene – to do something miraculous or magical to meet the need – somehow to change things or change people or change the world for the better.

 

And there are elements of truth in all of these answers.  There are resources we can order or bring in from outside to add to what we have already, to make ourselves stronger and more faithful as a congregation.  There are also sometimes extraordinary gifts and resources that land in our lap that allow us to do extraordinary things.  And there is power in intercessory prayer, and an effect that heaven has on earth.

 

But none of these things are mentioned in the story.  When it comes to feeding the crowd around the disciples – when it comes to meeting the needs of others around us, three things happen that make this a story of the kingdom of God coming-to-be in the life of the world.

 

One is that when the need becomes apparent – when it’s obvious there’s a hunger and something needs to be done to meet it, Jesus asks his disciples – asks us, “What do you have?  They need not go away or elsewhere; you can give them something to eat.  What do you have?”

 

 

Five loaves and two fish.  Ordinary bread, common fish.  The kind of ordinary stuff everyone has every day of their lives.  “Nothing but these things,” the disciples say – meaning “only” this.  Except Jesus doesn’t see it as “only.”  Jesus sees it as exactly what’s needed, and as enough.

In response to the needs of the world around us – as close as next door and in our own city, or around the world, what do we have?  What is it we carry with us?  What is it we have within us?

Some of us find this easy to answer.  For Jesus it is easy and immediate.  At the very start of the story, when Jesus sees the great crowd that has gathered around him, he has compassion on them, and because he knows it he lets it guide his actions and his response.  

Some of us are as aware as he is of what we carry and feel inside; our feelings rise easily and we know them by name.  Others of us find it harder; we bury what we feel – for a variety of reasons, and we need to learn to scratch the surface a bit, dig a little into ourselves to really know what we feel and le to express it.  But regardless of who and how we are, we have feelings, thoughts and ideas in response to the needs of others.  It’s the way God has made us – to be capable of sympathy with someone else’s sorrow; capable of tears in the face of another’s pain and loss; of anger against ignorance, abuse or hurt; of both fear and anger  when we see someone’s well-being in peril; of shared joy with someone else’s happiness.

So “what do you have, what’s really deep-down inside you when you see the needs of the world, when you see the hunger of others?”  Jesus asks us to take the time to know what it is – to name and identify what is stirred up within us by what we see and hear around us.

Then, “bring it to me,” Jesus says. 

This is the second thing, and it’s important because a lot of what we feel and think in response to what we see in the world and in others’ lives is often not in and of itself the answer – not what will help the kingdom of God to come.

For Jesus it is easier.  As like us as he is in his humanity, he is also more open to the mind and heart of God than we are, more in tune with the spirit and vision of God.  So when he responds from his heart, it is a holy, healing and life-giving response.  It’s redemptive.

We are more mixed in how we feel and respond – there’s a little more of self and selfishness, a greater longing for quick and simple answers that will make things easier for us, a quicker tendency to judge and close the book than Jesus shows.

So Jesus says “bring it to me,” and he lifts what we have to God.  He connects what we feel and think to the mind and heart of God, to God’s truth and good will.  And in this way, what we feel and think is refined, purified, sanctified, maybe changed or enlarged.  The rough and selfish edges are knocked off.  Maybe one way to think about it is that the dirt and mold of our humanness is scraped off the bread of our feelings, and the bones of self-centredness are taken out of the fish of our thoughts and ideas.

And then, thus purified and blessed, he tells us to give and offer what we have to the crowd – bearing in mind what we have heard him say previous to this: that what we have to give may seem as tiny and insignificant as a mustard seed, and it may seem to disappear into the life of the world like a little bit of yeast in a big lump of dough.

But that’s the good news – that sometimes from our little mustard seed there grows exactly the plant that others need for refuge and life; that just a little yeast that we add into the mix gives rise to a lot of new life; and that just a few loaves and fishes – ordinary loaves and common fish – the ordinary stuff we all have within us every day of our lives, is exactly what’s needed and is enough, when we bring it to Jesus and let him guide us in offering it.