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. 

Record Scratch

Why yes, I was a DJ in seminary... 

In seminary one of my greatest joys was being a disk jockey. That’s right, I was a DJ. Along with my friend CJ Meaders, I spun digital records at visitors’ weekends, seminary prom (yes, that is a thing), and even casual dinner parties with friends. My greatest aim was not unlike what the clergy, organist, choirmaster, and choir try to do on Sunday mornings. Namely, picking the right song for the right moment. To do this though is often more difficult than one might think.

Finding the right music for the right moment in a party, in a church service, or anywhere else for that matter takes some skill. CJ (aka DJ Perichoresis) and I (aka DJ Ex Nihilo) prided ourselves on getting people out on the dance floor and then keeping them there. Occasionally though, we would miss the mark. Sometimes we would choose the wrong song for the moment. Perhaps it was a slow song when everyone wanted to jump around. Maybe it was too many high-paced dance songs when the audience wanted a breather. In those moments when we made a bad musical decision, it was as if someone pulled the needle off the record making that stop everything scratching noise. In much the same way, when I first read this coming Sunday's Gospel lesson it felt like the framers of our Lectionary had made a record scratching choice.

On the Second Sunday of Easter (this past Sunday) we always hear the story of Thomas. Really, it is a story of Jesus visiting the ten other disciples and Thomas not being there. But, we most often associate the story with Thomas and his desire to see the Risen Christ. This coming Sunday (the Third Sunday of Easter) we hear a very similar story from Luke’s Gospel account. It almost feels like playing the same song by two different artists right in a row at a party—not necessarily a crowd pleasing move. So, this week I am left wondering, “Why did the people putting together the Lectionary choose this story?” Let us take a moment to compare and contrast the two tales.

The Lukan passage begins in much the same way as John’s story from this past Sunday. Jesus comes and stands among the disciples saying, “Peace be with you.” Also similarly to John’s story, the theme of doubt exists in this bit from Luke, even if Thomas is not singled out for his curiosity. The disciples are also charged to go out into the world in both stories. There are some differences between the stories as well.

Unlike in John’s story in Luke’s account Jesus dispelled that he is a ghost, opened up scripture to the disciples, and sent them out without the Holy Spirit (for the moment). Jesus does not make a peaceful refrain throughout this narrative. And, these disciples seem to need it more than the ones shown in John’s story. Why? Because they think Jesus is a ghost.

The disciples here in Luke believed Jesus was a ghost. We may find this odd, but they knew that Jesus had died, for him to be walking among them now was preposterous! So, the Risen Christ had to dispel this belief by doing something ghosts cannot do—eat something.

Next, Jesus opened up the Hebrew Scripture to his followers pointing to his identity as the suffering Messiah. This Messiah had come to enhance a movement of repentance and forgiveness of sins, which does connect to John’s story. But in John's account the coming of the Holy Spirit happened in that Easter evening moment. Also peculiar to Luke was the origin of Jerusalem as the genesis of the Jesus movement. But, it was some time before the Holy Spirit came in Luke’s story, thus the disciples had to sit around in Jerusalem for some time waiting. Luke’s community also authored the Acts of the Apostles, and so this anticipatory moment of this disciples pausing in Jerusalem for God’s Holy Spirit almost seems like a promo for the sequel book. So, there are similarities and differences in these two stories, but again I wonder why choose this story this week? Why did the Lectionary framers do this?

For most of Holy Week we find ourselves in John’s Gospel account. For most of Year B (the Lectionary year we are currently in) we find ourselves in Mark’s Gospel account. How about another story from one of those? It feels like a stop the record moment for us to all of a sudden jump to Luke. Why would the framers of the Lectionary do this? Well, Mark's authentic story does not have any post-Resurrection stories. And, we will be back in John's Gospel account for the rest of the Easter season and the Day of Pentecost. So, while I cannot be positive, I tend to think that those who created the Lectionary wanted another voice telling a Resurrection story to be heard. Even if the stories are similar we are called to hear what the disciples experienced in those moments, days, and weeks right after Jesus was raised from the dead.

We might find it odd that three weeks after Easter we are still hanging out on that most holy day, but actually it makes sense. Something so profound as Resurrection destroying death requires some time to digest. Two thousand years later we still cannot understand it. Instead, we are called to dwell in the beautiful glow of the Risen Christ hearing these stories over and over and over again.

Sure, for those faithful ones who were at church on low Sunday (yesterday) this might feel like a repeat story; however, it is not like playing the same song two times in a row. In fact, it appears like something else, another analogy. 

When my favorite teams pull off amazing touchdowns or goals I tend to watch the highlights of those plays many times over. I want to see greatness from as many different angles as I can. As we witness these post-resurrection stories, I think it is the same way. We as the Church want to view Resurrection from as many different vantage points as possible. This week may we see the Risen Lord again and may we be challenged once more to take God’s Good News of forgiveness and repentance of sins out into the world!

The Giver Unseen

Like all grad school students who struggle to make ends meet my time in seminary pushed me to my financial limits. Days in Austin, Texas are not often like what we are experiencing outside today in Decatur, Alabama, but for large stretches of the year the heat exceeds what mortal human beings can easily endure. I attempted to be as stingy as I could, still sometimes my electricity bill was larger than I wanted it to be.

During my first couple of semesters I learned how to cook random dishes using an app called “Cook by Number,” which would create a recipe for whatever I had on hand or whatever was on sale that week. I even became what some people call a “freegan” meaning I would eat any food that was free or left-over from seminary events. There were days when I would pray for a staff member to bring in breakfast tacos to share with the work study students. One time that prayer was even answered.

Over the course of three years I applied for countless scholarships, which helped. But, even after a Dave Ramsay financial peace university course I could not make all my ends meet. Air-conditioning, food, and seminary rent are not cheap.

Right about the time when I was getting worried that I was going to be just short on my electricity bill, that I would have to call home to figure out what I would do to get everything paid off for my first semester I went to check my mail. In my postage box on the second floor of the apartment building was a small, white envelope with no return address merely my name and seminary address written in plain black ink. Intrigued, I used my finger as a makeshift letter opener. Marvelously the package contained a couple $20 bills, no note, just cash. I looked around as if I was being filmed for some hidden camera show, but alone I stood in the breezeway full of gratitude.

Certainly, that was not the end of the financial challenges of seminary, but on a few other occasions some kind soul mailed a white envelope with a little extra cash in it. I never found out who did this, but I am grateful for this anonymous giver. Over the years in school I tried to repay that kindness in the seminary community by preparing meals for friends or filling the laundry machines with quarters for the next student, but those envelopes and the giver unseen I will never forget. 

Today we celebrate another anonymous giver who became less obscure through the years. Happy St. Nicholas Day! Nicholas was a bishop in Myra during the Fourth Century. While we remember many fabulous and fantastic stories of this giant of the Christian Faith—think: punching a heretic in the face, saving some children who were about to be pickled, and healing a withered hand—perhaps most notably though we think of him for one story. 

Three daughters lived in his town. They were unmarried and had a poor father, so none of them would have been able to get married for they could not afford the dowries. Women without husbands in those days had to turn to horrible methods to make ends meet, so this situation was not just dire because they were without love. Their lives would have turned awful if they could not afford a bride price. On three consecutive nights Nicholas walked by their home and threw a sack of gold through their open window. This saved the women from a life of shame and allowed them to get married. 

Nicholas was the forerunner of our own tradition of Santa Claus, but more than the modern adaptation St. Nicholas showed a rare affinity for anonymously giving. While I would love to know who sent me those white envelopes during seminary, something marvelous happened when there was no return address. I began to treat everyone around me as though they might be the generous giver. To give so freely without need for credit does something not just for the giver and receiver, but for a whole community.

What Nicholas and other anonymous givers show us is the epitome of gracious stewardship. To give so freely these followers of Christ have to be secure in their trust and belief in God’s abundance. So sure and confident in their own giftedness from God they are that they are willing to drop gold through a window, send money to a seminarian, or secretly take care of a need within a community. These stories are not just supposed to be far out of reach for us. No, each of us is called to grow deeper in our Faith in God, such that we trust God fully. And, when we do we will begin to recognize everything is gift, which frees us up to give freely ourselves.

In this season when we wonder what to get everyone and struggle to put together a list of presents for ourselves I invite us to look at the life of Nicholas and other anonymous givers. What is a need you know of in this community, within the schools nearby, within Decatur, or elsewhere? How might you give freely like Nicholas? We are all so gifted by God who provides for our every need, like Nicholas let us give without need for credit, and as we do we will grow closer to Christ who gave all of himself to unite us to God!

Expectations and Resentment

Sometimes seminary education is about the scholarly work in the classroom and sometimes it is about the practical advice given elsewhere.

My Liturgy Professor spoke quickly with such verbose language and about such deep topics that my classmates and I would walk out of class thinking that we had been trying to drink water out of a fire hydrant. Dr. Nathan Jennings told us so much about the origins of our common prayer. He could articulate the mysteries of worshiping the Almighty in a way that often inspired awe at what I was getting myself into as a seminarian. However, sometimes what Dr. Jennings said about other aspects of life was even more profound.

“Expectations are resentments waiting to happen,” were his words at a New Student Orientation event. Expectations are resentments waiting to happen. I am uncertain of whether this was a phrase he coined or merely shared, but at least once a week I find myself coming back to this wisdom. This phrase stands out as particularly fitting in light of today’s Gospel lesson from Matthew.

Jesus has just capped off an impressive, rapid fire tour of teaching parables. He has compared the kingdom of heaven to treasure hidden in a field, a merchant in search of fine pearls, and a net thrown into the sea. Finally he summarized this series by saying scribes trained for the kingdom of heaven are like masters who bring forth the best of what is new and what is old. Then, Jesus and his band of followers make their way to his hometown. Instead of a continuation of this grand tour of teaching, something else entirely transpires.

In the synagogue Jesus begins teaching and the people were astounded, which at first sounds positive. And yet, in the next breath it seems the people of Nazareth cannot get past who it is that is teaching. They ask, “Where did this man get this wisdom and these deeds of power? Is not this the carpenter’s son? Is not his mother called Mary?” Apparently they cannot get past the origins of the teacher. Their minds already being made up do not allow them to hear and to receive with open hearts the message of Jesus. Their expectations are resentments waiting to happen.

How have you already made up your mind about someone? Who in your life is just the carpenter’s son? Who’s only the child of Mary? Jesus later will say that if you want to enter the kingdom of heaven you must enter it like a child. Children do not live with expectations. They respond with awe-filled gratitude and curiosity to each moment they exist. Your expectations are resentments waiting to happen. Instead of assuming God, your family, friend, or neighbor will respond in a certain way, which inevitably leads to resenting the person or situation when it does not; live your life with wonder learning from all whom God places in your way.

The Days Are Coming

Album art from My Morning Jacket's Circuital 

During seminary my friend CJ Meaders kept on raving about this band My Morning Jacket (MMJ). I could not for the life of me get into them. Often CJ's recommendations quickly became new favorite bands, but as hard as I tried I could not get into MMJ. I listened to their albums, watched old concerts, and even read positive reviews, but none of this did the trick. I had to experience a concert in person.

In the fall of 2011, I went to hear MMJ perform at the Austin City Limits (ACL) Music Festival at Zilker Park in ATX. Standing among many thousands of people and actually being in the presence of these performers made all the difference in the world. Their music sprang to life in a new way. They brought up the Preservation Hall Jazz Band from New Orleans to help with a few numbers. I left the concert a convert. Soon I was playing MMJ's sixth album "Circuital" on repeat.

Some of the songs on that album like "Victory Dance" and "First Light," pushed me beyond the point of liking MMJ's music and into a place in which I wondered, "Is this band writing prophetic rock music for the 21st Century?" There is a fancy word that gets thrown around in seminary to talk about God's return and our ultimate fulfillment in that moment, and that word is eschatology. If I had to classify MMJ, I might categorize them as an Eschatalogical Rock Band.

"The Day is Coming" the second track on the aforementioned album links so fittingly with Jeremiah 31:31-34 that I have a hard time not hearing it when I start reading, "The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah." We all have different ways of approaching that day when all things will be fulfilled. My hope as a Christian stems from my belief that Jesus initiated this new covenant and that we get to take part in it not teaching one another to "Know the Lord," but that we already know God.

What will the end look like? What music will be playing? Can we know any of this ahead of time? I am not so sure. We can certainly have hope in the all encompassing love and redemption of God through Christ. Yet, I think that it is like a really good band that you cannot quite get into by just listening online or reading reviews. To truly know the fulfilling of all things we have to experience it. The days are coming, but rest assured in the New Covenant the law is written on our hearts and we are God's people!