Learning how to be hungry...

This last Sunday, I spoke at church about the gospel reading from Matthew 14:13-21, where Jesus feeds 5000 men, not counting women and children.  Here is a good portion of my sermon and notes about it all.


When I read today's gospel, I notice a couple of important points that help us get started with this story.  First is that compassion draws hungry people...even as Jesus was in mourning over his cousin John's beheading and death, he has compassion on the crowd that follows.  He heals them...and they stay with him.  Second is that this was clearly a eucharist story for the early church...a story that would bring some meaning and memories to what they did very often; they shared communion...they made eucharist.


This story also raises a question.  Why did the disciples decide the crowd was hungry? Sure, there was scarcity everywhere but nothing in the text tells us why...I wonder if they were projecting? “I'm tired. I'm hungry. Can we please get rid of these people Jesus?”  After all, it seems like the crowd wasn't too concerned about dinner or sleep.  They would've stayed with Jesus all night.

 In John, Jesus bypasses them and feeds the crowd himself which resonates with the theology of the Johanine community from which the gospel comes...but in Matthew, Jesus says “no—you feed them.”


Our eucharistic theology is so screwed up that we have rules and regulations about who can bless the damn bread! We do the same thing the disciples did... “Lord, send these people to an ordained clergy person who can administer sacrament to them.” And I know we don't do that here at this church...but do we? Do we have our own rules about where and how and by whom God's bread is broken to share?


In the church world, we are so busy building up our baskets, the Lord has gone hoarse from telling us to give these people something to eat. I fear the church, like the disciples, doesn't really have any food to offer anymore. Certainly, with all churches in decline by traditional metrics, everyone else seems to have concluded the same thing.

But, then, maybe we as church aren't the disciples here...maybe we are the crowd...and Jesus is sending people to US to break bread among us. Unlike the crowd here, we are so worried about who made that food and whether or not it was kosher (“Who is the mother of that boy that gave his lunch?!” we would've asked in another gospel's telling of this story...), we would rather starve than be fed. And we encourage the rest of the hungry crowd to abstain. And the Lord who wants to feed us tries in vain as the church in God's name proclaims from pulpits “DON'T EAT THE BREAD!”


Instead of seeing yourself in the shoes of the disciples today, find yourself among the crowd and call that crowd “the church.” If the crowd is the church, then the question becomes who are the disciples who are breaking bread to us in this narrative?

I would like to think they are unchurched people who are learning what real compassion without strings attached looks like.  They are apostates who left the church long ago because of many reasons, but have found that they aren't different people except in ways that make them happier, and gentler, and yes, even godlier.

The disciples are messengers of peace from other world religions and even other Christian denominations we would so easily dismiss, because we think that truth is confined to one outlet...and if we would listen to Truth, in whatever costume it dresses itself up in, we would find that we are less hungry for it after we eat...even as most of us would continue to focus on Jesus as the author and finisher of our faith.


In my take, the disciples are atheists or agnostics who value faith only if it can be questioned and tried...and if we would accept the bread they are offering us, we would find our faith enlivened and relevant because of the questions we would ask of ourselves...or we might find ourselves abandoning our faith in pursuit of truth outside the religious answers we've always known.


Does that scare you? Am I too radical to preach this in a Christian church? I mean, if we all preach this, won't everyone leave the church because they don't need it? I'm suggesting exactly that to you—you don't NEED the church...but we do need each other. And church is as good a place as any to really find each other...but only so long as we tell the truth about ourselves and others. Church has no value simply because it's the church...the value church has is in what people bring to it.


And the story today teaches me that too. Yes, the bread will come from the hands of disciples we are so quick to dismiss and reject. But, more than that, it's important to remember that they aren't providing the food that will feed us all...we are. It's a little counterintuitive in this story isn't it? The disciples don't save the crowd...the crowd has the food it needs to survive. Jesus just gathers it and redistributes it. Now instead of one boy with a sack lunch, they all have plenty with leftovers.


Now, I tend to believe that this is a miracle story based on some historical event rather than a historical report about a miracle event...so the multiplication of the loaves and fishes isn't all that important to me except to teach us about how much we truly have when we only think it is a little. But many if not most of you will say “absolutely not...it's important that Jesus multiplied those loaves and fishes.” And maybe you're right...but even so, it's completely significant that Jesus doesn't turn stones into bread to feed the people. He uses what they have. The crowd has all it needs to be fed. But isn't that how the Divine that we see at work in the world goes about doing things? Doesn't the spirit take a little of what we have, sift it through the hands of some people who might have even tried to just be getting rid of us, pass it among our various crowds—churches, friends, families, dance clubs, supper clubs, schoolrooms, etc—until we are all amazed at how interconnected we are with one another?

I don't know what your idea of eucharist is, but if it is confined to this table at church, you'll always go hungry. God is feeding the world at many tables. Some of them in churches today, yes...but at many other times and in many other places.


What it comes down to for me is this—I do believe. Today, anyway. And I believe in the good news so much that I believe it can withstand any doubt or disbelief and that those who search for truth will find it...and I care very little if they find it in a church or in a bar or in a movie theatre or a synagogue or mosque or a temple or a country chapel or a orchestra concert, or a band rehearsal, or a music festival or any other place. Because I believe...in a God that is found in all of those places by many names and in many different forms.


Does this sound completely apostate and heretical?


That must have been how this story sounded to the first century listeners who heard it. God doesn't masquerade as a carpenter from Galilee. God doesn't call fishermen and publicans. God doesn't party with hookers and get drunk on the weekends like Jesus. That's not how God works, they say. But it is.


So, join the crowd. Seriously...the crowd in this story...and find eucharist outside these walls. You'll starve if you only look for it from the church. Because I fear the church has seen itself as the disciples in this story for so long instead of the crowd, that they've starved to death, rejecting the bread God is bringing through unlikely sources. But the bread is there. It is exactly where Jesus said the kingdom of God is. Among us.


I haven't lost hope. I believe food will come from somewhere...but not until we start asking the right questions of ourselves and others. Not until we start caring about people rather than personal utility or the groups we are trying to use people to build up. And I DO believe that the church of Jesus Christ can be disciples, distributing the bread of hope that the crowd had with them all along right back among them and feeding the hungry. But we'll never get there until we can begin to find our own hunger again and bring our own stories and struggles and questions to the table.

 Let us pray.



May the God who satisfies the hungry soul help us to see what we have need of in our own souls. May She bring out from among us the gifts that will feed not only our souls but the hearts of our neighbors and the stomachs of a physically hungry world. And may we never be satisfied with believing that God is confined by one sack lunch, or by our ideas of propriety, or by our concepts of what is “best” or “right.” In other words, Lord, thy kingdom come and thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. And give us this day our daily bread...

I believe the Bible is the Word of God even if fundamentalists say it doesn't count.

My response in a recent Facebook discussion concerning the uncomfortable historical stories in the Bible about God ordering the killing of babies, et. al.

Part of believing that the Bible is the Word of God (not necessarily the words of God) is struggling with these difficult stories in the Bible (old and new testaments) and understanding the mindset of the people who wrote them and lived them. I often think that people ought to read the Bible like they read memoirs...with a healthy dose of caution to not interpret all of history by this one person's account, but to interpret this account in light of all of history.

 I believe that the Bible is the word of God, but definitely not "100% truth" in the way that most fundamentalists mean it. It reveals my Truth to me, so I accept that as a part of my faith journey and identity. Ultimately, as a Christian, I see Jesus of Nazareth as the revelation of God to man, not a book. I don't believe the Bible is the only revelation of God to man or exhaustive or inerrant...I used to...honestly, I'm not sure what I believe dogmatically about these issues--I choose to be a questioning person rather than a dogmatic person. The Bible IS the story of peoples of faith...first, the Hebrews/Jews and then the Christians...I think the Truth is what those communities of faith bring to those stories. Unfortunately, those communities are a product of their time (and, unfortunately today, behind the times...but this was always the case-note the prophets in the Old Testament) and so you are right on to call out the xenophobia, racism, sexism, and power issues throughout the Bible. Beyond those cultural trappings, though, there is a struggle within the Bible itself...the story of the empowerment of women in the gospels and in the early church, side by side with Paul's (or the author writing in the name of the Apostle) misogynistic (and contradictory!) teachings on the role of women in the church...the laws of the Old Testament commanding the welcoming of strangers side by side with stories of the Israelites seeking to conquer their enemies (and the inflated, pseudo-historic accounts of their successes and failures in those endeavors), the teachings of Jesus against religious authority and the early church's struggle to have organization without institutional power and corruption...the picture in the Old Testament (and new at times) of a forgiving and gracious God beside a God who holds children accountable for the misdeeds of their ancestors. The Bible is the story of God trying to find humanity and it reflects the mess God finds us in, I believe. I think the nugget of truth is beyond all the cultural trappings and myth...we must constantly demyth (take the nugget of truth in the story out of the context of patriarchy, unscientific ideas, ancient concepts) and remyth (find the truth for us today). We do this with all historical writings, why should we not do this with the Bible? Fundamentalists would argue that the Bible is the Word (and, for them, the words) of God and shouldn't be examined this way. I say that we do a disservice to the scriptures and to God when we fail to truly study the Bible as both a historic and spiritual book. I think we should use the stories of sacred scriptures (and I would include others beside the Bible, for fundamentalists exist in every religion) like a lamppost, to guide our path...not like a drunk uses a lamppost--to prop himself up. Also, final note, the concept of "hell" in the Bible is pretty vague and includes ideas relating to time and eternity, so I don't fear for anyone in terms of hell the way that most Christians might...however, I do believe there are hells all around us and if Christians would spend more time rescuing people from those hells instead of trying to get people to sign on to a creed, we'd see a better world.

What I Learned on my Summer Vacation

This July I went to Poza Rica, Veracruz in Mexico to visit my boyfriend who lives there.  This was my second trip to Mexico.  Six years ago I went to Durango on a mission trip with my Southern Baptist church.  That trip and those people (both my fellow mission-trip-ers and the Mexican people we met) forever marked me.  I've loved Mexico ever since.  A month after my second trip, I have had time to reflect on what I learned on my vacation.

On this recent trip, I was reminded again and again that the man visiting Mexico in 2012 is a completely different person than the boy who went in 2006.  Perhaps because of that, I found the lessons I took away and the way in which I was "marked" this time, to be of a different variety than before.  So here, in three lessons, is what I learned:

We don't need to "help" people by "reaching" them...we need to connect with them because we need them as much as they need us.

MISSIONS is a word used by American Christians to mean a few different things.  Mostly we use it to refer either to service (serving the poor, painting houses, building sanctuaries) or evangelism (proselytizing).  When I last went, it was on a trip to what the SBC had taken to call "unreached people groups"--ethnic groups of people who's knowledge of The Gospel (copyright SBC?) was at an extremely low level.  When we got to Durango, we found a group of people who identified by and large as committed Catholics.  Rancheros where the main attraction of the little town was the church.  But of course, Catholicism didn't count in our version of the gospel.  This time around I realized how dumb that concept of evangelism is...how self-centered, proud, and egocentric...the idea that American Christians somehow need to "help" these people who aren't Christian enough in their Christianity.  Because their cultural version of Christianity isn't pure Christianity like ours...you know, the kind that pledges allegiance to the American flag at Vacation Bible School (an awkward practice when you take your VBS on the road to another country), the kind that thinks the "old songs" are ones written in 1950 and published by Stamps Baxter.  I learned on this trip that my cultural Christianity is important to me because Christ transforms culture and culture is just another way of God's creative work continuing in and among us, God's children.  At the same time, the cultures of other people, Christian and otherwise, are not in competition with my faith but are necessary to enrich it.  We ought to send American Christians across the world on mission trips...the mission should be to learn how to be better Christians by observing how other brothers and sisters across the world do this thing we call "following Jesus."

Our immigration policy is immoral

This isn't a lesson about immigration reform, who to vote for in the coming election, or how to protect our borders.  I don't even know the answers to those questions.  I'm saying that we are asking the wrong questions.  While we debate issues of national security, visit the home of your neighbors who don't have all the right papers in their chest of drawers and ask about the fears that grip them when it comes to their family, their immigration status, and the economic and social climate in their home country.  While we talk about amnesty and obeying the law, go look into the face of a mother who wants her children to be safe and successful and the eyes of a young man who dreams of doing something significant and decide for yourself if geography is enough reason to ignore those wants and dreams.  Our immigration policy in this country is confusing, unjust, unfair, imbalanced, broken, and ironic (as in great grandchildren of illegal immigrants, i.e. white people, deciding who gets to stay or go).  But beyond all of that political discussion, it isn't just politics and policy--it's people...and how we treat these neighbors of ours is immoral and wrong.  "When a stranger sojourns with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong.  You shall treat the stranger who sojourns with you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God"  -God.  (Leviticus 19:33-34)

Church should be like a Mexican karaoke bar

One night I went out to a karaoke bar in Poza Rica.  We drank tequila and people sang.  And drank.  And sang.  And drank.  And drank.  But there was a marked difference between karaoke here and there.  When the people in the bar knew the song, they sang out.  Loudly.  And as the night wore on, louder.  These people who didn't know each other threw off their inhibitions to enjoy what they shared in common: love of a song.  Those who didn't know the words were caught up in an atmosphere of community.  The person with the mic was drowned out by those nearest me singing their hearts out.  Church should be like that.  People who might not normally become a community gathering in joy around something in common...in our case, Jesus.  Singing our hearts out, unconcerned about how we look because it's about the song.  Not reverently listening to one person perform, but becoming part of the performance ourselves, thereby lifting up the efforts of the leader but drowning them out as our song becomes a song of community...a chorus, not a solo.  Nobody worried about singing too many verses.  Those who don't know the song we're singing, still caught up in the atmosphere of being a community.  No one bored.  No one feeling awkward.  No one excluded or left out (after all, if you don't know the songs we're singing, go pick your own and sing your heart out too!).  Joy.  Celebration.  Communion.  Singing.  Fellowship.  Diversity.  Loud people and quietly smiling people.  People apologizing to the next table for a friend who is a little over eager.  All of these things should mark the community that follows Christ.

So many other lessons I learned on my trip--some too close to the heart to share here.  But above all I learned that people aren't so different from each other.  Language, culture, karaoke song choices, religions...they divide a humanity that is afraid to look at "the other" and see themselves.  Perhaps, if we looked at each other and loved what we saw, we'd learn to love who God has made us too...for in each of us resides the image of God.  In each of us also is the need to stop, rest, and declare with God about God's creation, "it is good."