What Offends You?

What offends you?

1 Kings 8:[1, 6, 10-11], 22-30, 41-43
Psalm 84
Ephesians 6:10-20
John 6:56-69

©2024 The Rev. Seth Olson

This sermon was preached on the 14th Sunday after Pentecost at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles. A video of the sermon may be found here.

Holy God, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

What offends you? Billionaire CEOs paying fewer tax dollars than public school teachers? Lenders providing predatory loans to people whom the big banks know cannot pay them back while charging an exorbitant interest rate? Athletes pumping themselves full of equine grade steroids? Or maybe what offends you is simply a piece of bread. We have reached the end of the five consecutive Sundays making our way through Jesus’ “Bread of Life” discourse in John. At this point, Jesus said something that made the remaining crowd so angry, so belligerent that only twelve remained afterwards. But, what is so offensive about what Jesus said—what is so offensive about bread?

We have to go back to the beginning of this series of lessons. First, many came who were physically hungry seeking sustenance through the miracle that Jesus performed in feeding the 5,000 men/10,000 people. Many followed him not particularly caring about what he was teaching, but simply seeking more food. Some others in the crowd simply wanted to see Jesus perform more tricks, as though he were some sort of magician at a kid’s birthday party. As this story unfurled the religious people of the day wanted to see a sign like the ones that Moses performed in feeding the Israelites in the wilderness. Jesus reminded those seeking a similar miracle that the Father, not Moses, sent down the bread and that the manna did not lead to everlasting life. We will return to Moses in a minute.

Last week, we heard Jesus compare himself not to a religious leader, but to a new bread that will make one live forever. He even went as far as to say those who do not eat his flesh and drink his blood will not have life within them. So, one has to eat Jesus to live. Now, no one really likes a biter, and out of context, Jesus’ odd invitation to “eat me” sounds like words from the rebellious cartoon character Bart Simpson and not the Son of God. Because truly, the invitation to consume Jesus had to be what was so offensive to even those who had begun following after Jesus. And yet, I believe those who heard Jesus had an even bigger stumbling block than mis-interpreted cannibalism.

Jesus said, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before?” Now why would this be offensive Jesus? What does the possible ascent of the Son of Man have anything to do with the stumbling block that is eating his flesh? Jesus put his finger on a nerve that drove away would-be disciples and religious people causing them to proverbially take their toys and go home. What is more offensive than an unequal economic system, greedy banks, cheating athletes, and even anthropophagy (yes, there is a synonym for cannibalism)? It is not bread; it is someone who says that she or he is God. Blasphemy! Those who walked away from Jesus could not believe that he was the Son of God. Some even reminded him, “You are the son of Joseph,” a few verses back. This was what was so offensive!

The Church has officially been affirming the dual nature of Christ Jesus—that his humanity and his divinity are united as one—since the early Fifth Century (though the Early Church knew it before then). If we have said that Jesus is fully divine and fully human for more than 1500 years, then the absurdity of that statement and the reality that it represents may have lost its impact. And yet, Jesus himself seemed to disavow the human part of who he was, as he said, “It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless,” or more closely to the original, “The Spirit is giving life, the flesh profits nothing.” (We see why the Church could not completely get behind this for some years.) Jesus wasn’t disavowing his humanity here though, he wanted those still within earshot to know life beyond physical bread. If your mind is spinning a little bit, you are not alone, this is theologically sophisticated material. Perhaps returning to Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness would be helpful now.

You may recall from the Book of Exodus, or the song “Pharaoh, Pharaoh,” the People of Israel escaped from Egypt. “Well me and my people goin' to the Red Sea, With Pharaoh's army comin' after me. I took my staff, stuck it in the sand, And all of God's people walked ‘cross dry land.” Once through the sea there was a forty year delay in actually making it to the Promised Land. In the meantime Moses and the people were stuck out in the wilderness. The people grumbled about there not being food, and when God provided manna and quail they grumbled about the menu options. In their desperation the people even said to Moses, “Is this not the very thing we told you in Egypt, ‘Let us alone and let us serve the Egyptians’? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness.” We know that eventually they reached the land of milk and honey after Moses’ death.

In John’s Gospel account Jesus was the manna that came down from heaven. Except here Jesus was not just the bread of life, but also the Word of God. These two are intricately connected, as the Word acts as the life-giving force. Jesus said, “The words I have spoken to you are spirit and life!” And yet, just like the grumbling Israelites in the wilderness there were those who moaned receiving the Word of God. This is an exceedingly difficult truth to accept—Jesus is the Christ through whom Creation came to be, he’s the Bread of Life that provides sustenance for the journey. Even Jesus seemed surprised when twelve remained, “Do you also wish to go away?” in response Peter asked, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” This faithful remnant was feasting on the Word! They knew that though they were physical creatures, they had found the everlasting spiritual food.

I could say, let us all feast on the eternal Word like these disciples and it would be neat and tidy, but that is not the end. We may be two thousand years removed from the stumbling block that is the fully human and fully divine Jesus, but we believe something even more offensive today. 

Even in today’s world of outrageous headlines we believe something that can trip up so many. As strange as it sounds, if we are to follow Jesus, then we must give our whole selves to the ultimate reality that God loves us so much that God chose and continues to choose to send His Son, the Bread of Life, the Word of God to come and dwell with us. He comes to us, so that we might feast on Him and enjoy eternal life! This is not some sort of metaphor or hocus pocus, nor is this a story from a long time ago. This is the truth: All of us are the Body of Christ. We are One Body in Christ for we all partake of the one bread and we share in the same cup. You are Christ; I am Christ; we are Christ. 

Does this offend you?

 

 

Repeated Wisdom

 

Orange you glad I didn't say banana?

 

This sermon was preached on the 13^th Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 15B) at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of the sermon may be found here. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following: 

 

1 Kings 2:10-12; 3:3-14
Psalm 111
Ephesians 5:15-20
John 6:51-58

 

Me: Knock knock. 

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Banana.

 

Congregation: Banana who?

 

Me: Knock knock.

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Banana.

 

Congregation: Banana who?

 

Me: Knock knock.

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Banana. 

 

Congregation: Banana who?

 

Me: Knock knock. 

 

Congregation: Who’s there?

 

Me: Orange.

 

Congregation: Orange who?

 

Me: Orange you glad I didn’t say banana?

 

[Everyone laughs… okay not really.]

 

That is my favorite joke. And, it’s terrible, I know. I’ve loved it for longer than I can remember. Its humor comes from—okay it’s not really funny—but, if it were funny it would be funny because of its repetition. We may think the same thing about the Gospel lessons we’ve heard over the last few weeks. It is funny—but not really funny—because Jesus keeps repeating the same thing over and over again. But why? 

 

Why does Jesus keep talking about bread? We have heard for the past four weeks (including today) that Jesus is the Bread of Life, the Bread of Heaven, the Bread that will feed the World. So why must we keep hearing this again and again? Why does Jesus keep overwhelming us with more and more difficult passages about him and bread? 

 

I can think of three reasons why someone would repeat oneself over and over and over again. First, because one’s audience was not listening—What? Second, because one’s audience did not get it—Huh? And third, because one’s audience needed desperately to hear it—it was just that important. Fittingly enough, I believe this passage points to all three of these being true. Jesus said these things because the people were not listening, they did not get it, and what he was saying was too important not to repeat. Let’s look at these three more deeply.

 

1. Audience Not Listening

 

When I was a kid, I did not listen well. My first response when someone spoke to me quite often was the question “What?” At times, I struggled to pay attention. Recently, I was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), so my short attention span, which led me to distraction makes more sense. Similarly, those in Jesus’ day were distracted—they were not listening to what Jesus said. We can even see this in the way that Jesus and the religious folk spoke to each other. 

Previously in the Sixth Chapter of John, allusions were made to the story of God feeding the Israelites in the wilderness with manna—bread from heaven. In that story, the people grumbled to Moses and God for flesh. Their words were give us the flesh. This is almost exactly what the people said to Jesus in today’s Gospel. We read it as “his flesh” but that was not what they said—our translation makes an interpretive change from “the” to “his.” Read this way it would say, “How can this man give us the flesh to eat?” To me, this changes how I hear the crowd’s words. Jesus was talking about his flesh feeding them. The people were not listening though, but why? 

 

Those people who had been following Jesus around throughout this chapter had been fed with actual bread from Jesus. Imagine how good that bread was! If you were here during the Celebration of New Ministry, we used a communion bread recipe from All Saints’ Chapel in Sewanee. That bread tastes so good! I previously served at a church that used this recipe too. One time, we ran out of the communion bread. So, I handed one of the children a wafer. He promptly threw it back at me and told me that Jesus did not eat chips! 

 

Back in our Gospel lesson, those who followed Jesus around were deliciously fed by him. They ate bread from heaven and they wanted more. Some though were not listening for something more—they just wanted something to eat. And, even those who were intentionally listening—those who weren’t just looking for something to eat—might not have really understood what Jesus was saying to them.

 

2. Audience Not Understanding

 

Jesus said what he said over and over and over again in part because his listeners may have struggled with what he meant. Even with 2,000 years to process this, the Church still struggles with extracting the true meaning of this passage. What Jesus said could be construed in different ways. As we realized last week, Jesus did not want us to be cannibals, but his words really do point to a physical reality. When he said he was giving his flesh for the life of the world he signified to those listening that something big was about to happen.

 

Soon enough in Jerusalem, Jesus would be betrayed, persecuted, tortured, crucified, and killed. Jesus really did give up his flesh. Still there was more than one layer to what Jesus said. Hence, why it was hard and is still hard to understand what Jesus said—and why Jesus had to build up this teaching slowly. Yes, there was this layer of what was actually happening, but what about all the references to bread and eating this bread, his flesh? To eat his flesh and to drink his blood as bread and wine certainly refers to Holy Communion, but as we gather at Table with God, another mystical dimension opens. The Great Thanksgiving encompasses the physical, the metaphorical, the spiritual, and even what is beyond our comprehending. In Holy Communion, we encounter God so profoundly that we, at least in this Church, believe it’s important enough to participate in this celebration each and every week.

 

3. Audience Needed To Hear It Repeatedly

 

This truth, this reality of Divine Communion—of eating the Bread of Heaven, this reality was so important that Jesus said it over and over and over again, which is that third reason why he repeated himself. As Jesus continued speaking about bread, he made a significant connection tying together believing and eating. Those who believe will eat and those who eat will have eternal life through their believing. This refers to the reality of sacramental grace that happens at the altar rail, but it also can and maybe does happen at all times and in all places. For believing is not only about eating, it is also about consuming. It matters what we consume and also what consumes us. 

 

What do we consume? What do you consume? Not just what do you eat, although that is interesting enough to think about, but what do you do with your time, talent, and treasure? This is not simply a rhetorical question, I don’t always give homework in sermons, but this week I am. 

 

Homework

I want you to think about what you consume/what consumes you this week by taking part in three practices: 1. Look at your financial accounts. What do you consume with that money? When you get a paycheck does the first dollar go to God’s work or to what you want? 2. Look at how you spend your time. How much time does God get? When does that happen? Is it first thing in the morning? Is it just some leftover time here and there when you think about it? 3. Look at what activities, tasks, or events give you the most energy and which ones drain you the most. Not always but often the things that give us the most energy are areas where we have talent and when directed towards God’s work in this world it can be powerful and exceedingly joyful. Those areas are where we find our purpose and where we find our calling. You might find some fit for your calling on September 8th at this year’s Ministry Fair.

 

When you look at your life in these areas you might just see what you consume with your money, your time, and your energy. But, what consumes you? Often we think that heaven or the Kingdom of God are realities that await us when we “awake” on the other side of the grave; however, I don’t think that is the important thing that Jesus came to tell us. When the Body and Blood of Christ consume us—not just the other way around—then we realize that our entire lives—all our treasure, our time, and our talent—can be utilized for the building up of God’s Reign here on earth. When we are consumed by Christ, then everything works towards God’s purposes. 

 

Conclusion

Each of us is called into the ministry of Christ. We are all called to be members in His Body. All our stories fit into the Story of God’s Love—the sharing of the Good News of Christ. And to be more a part of all of this, God is calling us to be enveloped in Christ, consumed by the Body and Blood of Christ. 

 

We hear Jesus repeating his wisdom over and over and over again because we might not be listening at first, and because we might not get it all at once, and mostly because what we are hearing is so important. What we believe matters. And what we believe can best be seen not in what we say we believe, but in looking at what we eat, what we consume. What do you consume? What consumes you? May it always be the Body and Blood of Christ. Amen.  

What Do You Believe?

A beloved Farside cartoon by Whyatt Cartoons

 

August 11, 2024—The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 14

2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33
Psalm 130
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51

 

© 2021-2024 Seth Olson

This sermon was preached at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL. A video of this sermon may be found here.

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

Perhaps you have seen the signs when driving along the interstate. No, not the Alexander Shunnarah ones. In bold text, an even bolder question, “If you died tonight, where would you go? Heaven or Hell?!!!” When I see such billboards, I lose my temper—I wonder, how can someone short-change the message of God’s love in this way? Reducing the beauty, the complexity, and the immensity of Jesus’ Way of Love into an either-or question leaves me feeling angry. 

Memories from my youth emerge: Walking through southside Birmingham and seeing well-meaning Christians wrapped in fear trying to scare others into believing. Their shouts of “Have you been saved?” or “Do you believe?” crackling from a cheap bullhorn. 

These questions remind me of a Far Side Cartoon. In it two clean-cut, white men dressed in khakis, short-sleeved button up shirts, and ties are standing at a woman’s front door. They ask her, “Have you found Jesus?” In the living room of the home barely visible are Jesus’ sandal-clad feet, hiding behind a curtain for a big picture window. Friends, if you recall nothing else from today’s sermon remember that Jesus isn’t playing hide-and-seek trying to evade you—and a perfectly acceptable response to “When were you saved?” is 2,000 years ago on Calvary when God in Christ fully revealed that nothing separates us from God’s love—not sin, not death, not nothing! (Sorry for the bad grammar) 

All the fear-based yelling of Christians into megaphones has caused a great mess within our society. Or, maybe their shouting has merely revealed the disorder—we are collectively struggling over what to believe. And, belief and believe have become such overburdened words that we may be confused about what it means to believe.

For many of our friends in other parts of the Church belief simply means to give ascent to something—to check off a certain list of criteria about God and ourselves. For many believing means to think the way others do, the way the pastor says to think, or to accept things in the right way as to avoid Hell. Sure, this is what believing means to some, but what did Jesus mean when using this word? What was the Head of Our Church saying when he articulated that believing leads to eternal life?

This morning, we heard Jesus in the continuation of a larger story from John’s Gospel account. The “Bread of Life Discourse” as some refer to it. (Are you sick of bread yet? Got any Gluten-free believers now?) In this conversation, Jesus described himself as the Bread of Life and the Bread of Heaven—using the Hebrew story of the manna from above to elaborate on what he came to do in the world. When Jesus said, “I am the bread of life” this was the first “I am” statement in this Gospel account. He would later state, I am the Light of the World; the Gate; the Good Shepherd; the Resurrection and the Life; the Way, the Truth, and the Life; and the Vine. But if we are to walk in love and into eternity with Jesus, do we have to believe Jesus literally? Was Jesus really bread or a vine? Is that believing?

You may be shocked to hear this, but Jesus was not a grape vine nor a bread loaf. When we go to the altar rail we are not participating in gruesome cannibalism. Jesus spoke in expansive language with many layers. When we meet him in Communion, we do truly take hold of Christ, but there is more happening than we will ever know, or we can even imagine. And so, we cannot take in all that is going on up here at God’s Table. Of course, it is easier to take hold of what is happening together. 

When we gather as a church community, we sometimes say that we are re-membering the Body of Christ. We are putting Christ’s Body back together—sorry, Humpty Dumpty. It’s crazy, but we are constituting the Body of Christ right now. And, at the same time the words that we hear as we stretch out our hands at the altar rail are “The Body of Christ.” You all—the Body of Christ—are meeting the Body of Christ during Communion. Talk about “You are what you eat!” And, there’s even more to this whole believing thing.

 

This is the way, Thomas Merton, the great mystic from Kentucky put it: 

 

The deepest level of communication is not communication, but communion. It is wordless. It is beyond words, and it is beyond speech, and it is beyond concept. Not that we discover a new unity. We discover an older unity. My dear brothers [and sisters], we are already one. But we imagine that we are not. And what we have to recover is our original unity. What we have to be is what we are.[1]

 

We have to be the Body of Christ—that we already are! I can believe that.

There’s a hymn about this sort of believing. Foster Bailey, the organist at St. John’s, Decatur, often would ask me what my favorite hymn was. The richness of our hymnody is often too much for me to narrow it down to just one, so I would change my answer constantly. Usually whatever I would tell him, would make him roll his eyes. Today, my favorite hymn might just be “The Church’s One Foundation.” For in the last stanza we sing, “Yet she [the Church] on earth hath union with God the Three in One, and mystic sweet communion with those whose rest is won; O happy ones and holy! Lord give us grace that we, like them, the meek and lowly, on high may dwell with thee.” 

I can’t help but get misty eyed when I sing those words. I know that there are those who have joined the great cloud of witnesses who still commune with us. This isn’t a ghost story either, so do not allow the fear from other parts of society soak into us too. The bullhorn shouting about going to heaven or hell distracts us from hearing Christ Jesus reassuring us, “I will raise them up on the last day.” We miss this as we worry: “Do I get to be part of the exclusive club? What if I believe in the wrong way? What if I mess this whole thing up?” We fret about what Jesus said when he talked about belief, but what he meant was not doing a certain set of things or thinking a particular way or consenting to what the preacher tells you to do. Jesus pointed to the non-permanent nature of the manna in the wilderness to drive home the truth of believing. 

To believe—to really eat the bread of life, to be transformed by what happens in mystic sweet communion—to believe is to trust God. To walk in love means to follow Jesus’ example in giving over our whole lives to the Creator of the Universe to be blessed and transformed. This is actually harder than checking off a few things a preacher says to do. That was the case with Israelites. 

Way back when, manna was not the problem. The trouble was that those who were in the desert with Moses did not trust God. They grumbled. They pleaded for more than just the bread that was keeping them alive. And, I don’t want to speak for anyone else, but I often do the same.

When problems arise, I doubt. Which is a natural response and appropriate! God still believes in me, even when I don’t believe in God. But, when I forget, when we forget our true identities as God’s beloveds, that God is holding us up, and that God is with us (all of us, at all times, and in all places)—when we forget this, we can easily turn our religion into a weapon. 

When we disconnect from the truth that we are all God’s beloved children, we can wield Christianity as a sword to beat away disbelief or more troublingly unbelievers. This was not the way Jesus walked. This was not what Jesus meant by believing. And this is not what keeps us in eternal life. 

Jesus showed us a way that was and is different. He did not encourage people to think in only one way, so that they could eat bread that would never get moldy. No, he showed us a more important bread through which we might recover our original unity with God. Jesus showed us the way into eternal life. It is not through accenting to what a fear-filled preacher says, so that you can think that your group is better than others. Instead, we are called into a radical practice of trusting that God’s love for us and for all is infinite. It is eternally expansive and completely comprehensive. God’s love has even dissolved the sting of death. And, as crazy as this sounds with an election in 85 days, God’s love has the power to make us one.

We are called to trust God. That is believing. When we eat the bread of belief, we remember that we are already part of the Body of Christ. What we must be is what we already are.

What do you believe?

---

[1] Thomas Merton, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton, https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7711632-the-deepest-level-of-communication-is-not-communication-but-communion. 

Of Mirrors, Bread, and the Body

Jesus' Feeding of the Five Thousand was not about giving sustenance for a moment or the morning, but for a life-long mission 

 

August 4, 2024—The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 13B

 

2 Samuel 11:26-12:13a

Psalm 51:1-13
Ephesians 4:1-16
John 6:24-35

 

© 2024 Seth Olson 

This sermon was given at the Episcopal Church of the Holy Apostles in Hoover, AL — a video of it may be found here.

Holy God, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

Would you rather be right, or would you rather be kind? This is a question that has permeated my life over the last decade and a half. Often, I know how I want to answer this question—that I want to be both right and kind—but my actions belie my best intentions. I mean that in my attempt to thread the needle of being both right and kind, I bungle the whole thing, and I end up being neither kind nor right. I know you may be shocked, but your priest is human.

Jokes about my humanity aside, you may be surprised that in seminary, students spend time discussing this question during pastoral theology class. It’s helpful for me to remember that one of the underpinnings of good pastoral care practices is figuring out how to best approach the quandary, would I rather be right, or would I rather be kind? 

My phenomenal professor, the Rev. Dr. Kathleen Russell was quick to point out that sometimes, even the very best of us miss the mark. All of us at times are both wrong and mean. Through her blunt, Western New Yorker approach to educating, I observed my beloved teacher challenging me to see that the work of a pastor, preacher, and priest is not simply to espouse Godly wisdom in a harsh, critical way for the sake of sharing the Truth. No, the role of a clergyperson is to lovingly hold up a set of mirrors to a congregation, a community, and a world in need. These mirrors do help us to see the truth of who we have been, who we are, and who we becoming, but as I share these reflections, I am and we are to do so from a foundation of loving kindness.

This sort of reflective work is delicate to say the least. Still, here in this tender space of wondering how to be—and how to be kind—and how to share what is right—here on this holy ground of taking a truthful look in the mirror, I know that God is with us, just like how God was with the Ephesians in the Epistle we just heard. 

Today’s portion of Saint Paul’s Letter to the Church in Ephesus is an all-timer! It’s so chalked full of goodness that it’s hard to know where to begin, but let’s start at the top of this passage. This Early Church evangelist and letter writer, Paul, here reached a climactic moment in his correspondence with the Ephesians. For three years, Paul lived among this community and in this note he was writing to them from prison in Rome. For three chapters, Paul shared the Good News of God in Christ Jesus and how it applied not simply to the People of Israel, but to Gentiles—meaning all people. Then, here in Chapter Four, Paul pivoted to exploring how this Gospel had an implication in the Ephesians’ lives—he was holding up a mirror for this church to understand the Truth in Love!  

Saint Paul displayed kindness in how he shared the Truth though. In this passage he did not demand, he did not ask, instead he begged them to lead a life worthy of the calling they had received. Perhaps hastened by his own imprisonment, Paul was desperate for this missionary church, which he helped start, to get this message. What was this truthful message, Paul was striving so hard to relay gently? 

That they were one. They were united in the Spirit, in a bond of peace. And because of this union, they would be wise to act with humility, gentleness, and patience. For the truth is they were, and we too are of “one body and one Spirit,” we have “one hope of [our] calling,” we have “one Lord,” we share in “one faith,” and there is “one baptism,” into which we are all baptized. There is “one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.” This is the ultimate Truth. There’s one God and that one God is both above all things and in all things. If your head is spinning, I hope your heart is not. I hope your heart is full because this is really good news! But, before you think this is all some attempt to blur us all together in an amorphous blob, we get to this crucial phrase, “But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ's gift.”

All of us have received giftedness through God’s grace—favor undeserved, unearned. You can do nothing to earn more of it, you can do nothing to mess it up, it’s pure gift. Of course, if we are too consumed with other things, we may not see the gift right in front of us, or rather right within us. You may be wondering, what it means for each of us to receive this giftedness within us? 

There’s a short list of who we may become through God’s gifting. Paul laid out, apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and teachers. Well, here at Holy Apostles all of us are apostles—which means ones who are sent—all of us are sent out to tell others of the Good News of God’s love for us. Some of us additionally are prophets—not ones who predict the future, but ones who tell the Truth in Love. Some are evangelists—not street corner preachers or televangelists grifting folks out of their money—but heralds of Good News, like how Mary Magdalene on Easter Morning shared the story of the Resurrection with the other disciples. Some are called to tend to others as pastors—not the Good Shepherd, but one who works for Him. Others are ones who are to teach how to live out our Faith in God. This list is not exhaustive. There are many more roles that all of us play, and what truly matters is what comes next in Paul’s letter.

All of us are called to live into our calling as members of the Body of Christ. Each one of us has a role to play. We are to build one another up as we equip the saints—and all of us are saints, just as all of us are apostles. You may already know this: our Bishop Glenda and a wonderful team are actively working to prepare our diocese for the next chapter of our shared ministry—they are calling this capital campaign, “Equipping the Saints.” That’s exactly what we are meant to do as a church in the Way of Christ.

We are to kindly share the truth of how we can grow in God’s grace as we mature into the full stature of Christ. We do this together as the Body of Christ. And yet, each of us has an important part to play as individual members. We work both in a particular area and as interconnected members of a larger body. 

As we go, we are sustained not simply by the food of this world, but also by the living bread, which feeds us not just for a moment or a morning, but for a mission—a life-long journey to reflect how God dreams this world can be. What’s that look like? 

Paul put it this way, we must speak, “the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body's growth in building itself up in love.” We must work together to grow in love. 

In our Gospel story, love looks like abundant, spiritual sustenance in the form of a continuing and glutenous (not gluttonous) passage. You may recall that last week’s lesson described how Jesus turned five loaves given by a young boy into enough food for five thousand men, which probably meant closer to ten thousand people including women and children. The power of this good news is not only that God in Christ Jesus could feed the masses, but that a little child was willing to share his food with others. One interpretation of the feeding of the five thousand portrays others seeing the boy’s example and following suit. Can you imagine? Here a child held up a mirror showing the way the world could be!

All of us are indeed to go and be these sorts of members of the Body of Christ. In just a moment, we will recognize one such member, and I imagine she does not like that I am singling her out. Julia Sanford, who’s been a long-time member here, is headed off to Sewanee’s School of Theology to be formed as a priest in the Episcopal way. Julia, like that boy during the feeding is offering up what she has so that God may bless and multiply it. 

As she goes and as we go, may we strive to not only be right—especially in this election season, but may we also aim to be kind. May we hold up loving mirrors to one another. May we be like Paul trusting that we are all called. May we be like the Ephesians, faithfully striving to accept our call as members of the Body of Christ. May we be like Julia and the boy from the feeding of the five thousand, offering our lives up to be taken, blessed, transformed, and gifted back to us by God. And, when all else fails, may we seek Jesus like the crowds flocking after him, so that we are fed not just for a moment or a morning, but for a mission that will take exactly one lifetime. Amen.