A Word About Bread for Kids (Reflections on Pentecost 11, Year B 2024)

 

“I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

Since I started my full-time preaching career in the summer of 1997, I’ve had to endure nine summers when the Revised Common Lectionary sticks us with four consecutive Sundays in which the gospel lesson focuses on Jesus as the bread of life. Come to think of it, it’s actually five Sundays because the Sunday lesson which precedes all that bread is the story of the feeding of the 5,000. That’s a lot of bread. I mean, come on! Just how much can you say about bread?

Over the decades I’ve figured out ways to avoid this redundancy. I could always preach from the Hebrew scriptures or from the epistle lessons. Or—and I like this idea the best—I can go on vacation for a few of those four weeks and let someone else talk about Jesus being the bread of life. This summer I have a great Assisting Minister, the Rev. Natt Pour formerly of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Liberia. I’m going to let him preach this Sunday. I feel confident Pastor Natt will rock the house. He has a rather thick accent so whatever he says will sound unique. Of course, many folks can’t understand a word he says anyway, so at least they won’t notice the repetition next Sunday. But, whatever Natt may lack in English pronunciation, he more than makes up for in preaching zeal. I’ll have one of the deacons tag in for me when I go on vacation in two weeks, so I’ll only have to come up with two bread of life sermons. (If you do this job long enough, you learn some tricks!)

But there’s one thing I can’t quite maneuver around. We’ve started a new program for kids at Faith. I do a quickie children’s sermon just before we read the week’s gospel lesson, then the kids leave the worship space and get a short, age-appropriate Bible lesson in an adjacent room. A lesson for preschoolers has always been a bit of a challenge for me since I have no biological children of my own and my teaching experience was mostly with middle school youth. I’m not sure I can make a meaningful analogy for the little tykes, but this is what I’m going to try:

I will show the children a half-eaten loaf of bread I’ve taken from the refrigerator in the church’s Fellowship Room. I’ll explain that bread is one of the most common foods eaten by people on the planet, and ask the youngsters if they ever eat bread and how do they eat it. I’ll try to explain that when we pray “Give us this day our daily bread” we’re really asking God to see to all our needs.

So far so good?

I will then explain that I keep the bread I use to make my lunch at church in the refrigerator. It might get a little dry or stale that way, but I toast it so I don’t mind. I’ll ask them what they think would happen if I just left the bread out. I hope they’ll understand that the bread will eventually go bad if it’s not refrigerated or eaten in a timely manner. If they get that, I can tell them there are some things which don’t go bad—ever.  

Jesus came to teach us about love and sharing and kindness to others. He wanted us to look out for one another. If we really believe in this love, it won’t ever leave us. We can be thankful for and loving to our moms and dads, our brothers and sister, our teachers and friends, and everyone we meet. The love we feel inside will never spoil unless we let it. We can eat bread today and be hungry tomorrow, but the love Jesus teaches will give us joy forever.

Do you think children will understand that? I hope so. At least that’s what I’ll try to teach them. It’s just too bad there are so many grown-ups who have never learned this.

Thanks for reading, my friend. May you have a blessed week and always enough “bread” for your journey.

Little Miracles (Reflections on Pentecost 10, Year B 2024)

 

One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” (John 6:9)

Do we ever really think about what God is capable of doing? The Gospel lesson assigned for Pentecost 10, Year B (John 6: 1-21) tells the tale of a whole bunch of hungry folks who’ve come to hear what Jesus has to say. At dinner time Jesus throws a question to his buddy, Philip: Where are you going to buy food for this crowd? You’ll notice he doesn’t ask Phil if he should feed this horde. He asks him how he plans to do it. Can’t you just see Phil scratching his head saying, “Gosh, Boss, I dunno. There are a lot of people here, and we just don’t have the cash to take care of them.”

Of course, our evangelist John tells us that Jesus already knew what he was gong to do. He was just having a little fun with Philip—jerking him around a little to remind him that living here in this world and being obedient followers of Christ is always going to be something of a test. We are called always to see poverty, hunger, injustice, need, and sorrow, and we have to figure out how to address it.

So, what happens? In a detail unique to John’s telling of this miracle story, a young lad comes forward who is willing to share his lunch. A tiny, almost infinitesimal act of kindness causes an enormous outflow of grace.

Do you know the story of Alex Scott? She’s the little girl who was diagnosed with cancer when she was a year old. At age four, having spent her whole life dealing with doctors and hospitals and medicine, Alex decided she wanted to help other kids who were living with the same circumstances which were defining her world. She told her folks she wanted to collect money to find a cure for pediatric cancer. With the help of her big brother Patrick, Alex opened her lemonade stand, selling lemonade for fifty cents a glass. With the compassion and generosity of her neighbors, the tiny cancer patient raised over $2,000 in a single day.

 Alex continued her philanthropic efforts until she succumbed to her disease at the age of eight. But her compassion inspired an international movement which has raised over $300 million since that first fifty-cent glass was sold in 2000. Alex’s Lemonade Stand, Inc. has created over 1,500 cancer projects in North America and Europe and assisted over 30,000 families battling pediatric cancer.

In our Gospel story, Jesus runs from the crowd because, having been fed their fill, they want to make him their king. Jesus never seems to have time for people who just don’t get it. Sure. You’d really want a leader who can promise you an unending supply of all good things. But what would your contribution be? Jesus wants to fill the soul and not just the stomach. He wants our faith to be tested so that we grow and mature and learn love and empathy. A little boy shares his lunch, a little girl makes lemonade—these are things small but significant acts of faith which come from godly hearts.

We so often find ourselves cast adrift in a sea of seeming scarcity and a storm of chaotic uncertainty. There’s an awful lot of need and, so it seems, never enough resources to meet that need. My little congregation in Northeast Philadelphia is dealing with an aging building and a shrinking congregation. It’s really easy for us to feel overwhelmed. Nevertheless, we can’t simply close our eyes and pray for a miracle. We may have to be the miracle ourselves.

Since the compilers of the Revised Common Lectionary have stranded us for the next four weeks in the sixth chapter of John’s Gospel—that dreaded month of “Bread of Life” readings—I’m going to challenge my peeps to fill a shopping cart for our local food bank every week for the next four weeks. If everyone makes a tiny sacrifice, we can make a big donation for our hungry neighbors.

The Gospel reading for Pentecost 10 ends with the story of the disciples in the boat on a dark and stormy sea. Personally, I’d think experienced fishermen should’ve known better than to shove off on the Sea of Galilee at twilight, but hey! People do dumb things all the time, right? Maybe John wanted to illustrate that—just like everybody else—the disciples could quickly forget the goodness of God. I mean, these guys just saw a miraculous work, but already they’re starting to panic. That’s typical of all of us. I like the way John ends the tale by saying, after Jesus has identified himself, “then they wanted to take him into the boat.” The Greek word[i] implies a wish or a desire for something. John ends this part of the story with the disciples wanting the presence of Jesus, but wanting Jesus in our lives is really a beginning, isn’t it?

Just think: if all of us insignificant little people had the desire for Jesus in our hearts, how do you think the world would change? What kind of miracles could we do?

Thanks for reading, my friend. Be somebody’s miracle this week.

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[i] The word is ‘hethelon, which is the verb form of thelo meaning wish, desire, want, or will. Just thought you might be interested.

It's Break Time (Reflections on Pentecost 9, Year B 2024)

 

Carl Block (Danish, 19th Century)

As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. (Mark 6:34)

What is it with the Gospel writers and this sheep and shepherd thing? I guess this was their prime metaphor for leaders and followers. Jeremiah, in the First Lesson assigned for Pentecost 9 in the Revised Common Lectionary (Jeremiah 23:1-6) warns—and rightly so as it turns out—that bad “shepherding” will have dire consequences for the sheep. After all, if you hire some bozo to look after your sheep and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, you’re not going to have much of a flock. The sheep will get lost or go hungry or get eaten by wolves or something.

Fun fact: the word “pastor” comes from a Latin verb which means “to lead to pasture” as a shepherd would lead a flock; subsequently, pastor is synonymous with “shepherd.” It’s an uncomfortable truth that a poor “shepherd” can send an otherwise healthy congregation into a death spiral, but the best pastor in the world can’t seem to keep a congregation from declining, nor can she or he grow a congregation. Shepherds don’t beget sheep. Sheep beget sheep—but only with the help of the Holy Spirit.

Of course, the warning Jeremiah is giving in this lesson is actually about political leadership. Given his circumstances back in Judea in the 7^th century BCE, he had a pretty good point. The king and his court were a bunch of dufuses who, through arrogance, selfishness, impiety, and miscalculation, managed to flush their country down the dumper. Nothing God’s prophets said or did could keep them from doing it.

Leadership is a pretty topical subject in this year of the presidential election. Still, if you’re like me, you might be feeling just a bit exhausted by the subject. Doesn’t it feel like this current election cycle has been going on for about the last twenty years? I mean, we are suffocated with campaign ads on TV and requests for donations on our phones, in the mail, and in our email accounts. The endless news coverage about who is an old, doddering geezer or who is a mendacious autocrat is slowly sucking the air out of our lungs. Don’t you just wish you could get in a boat and go away to a deserted place where you don’t have to listen to or worry about all of this?

So, okay. I recognize folks just want to come to church and find a little sanctuary from the world, so I’ll steer clear of anything topical.

This does, however, lead me to our appointed Gospel text (Mark 6:30-34, 53-56). Here we find Jesus and the disciples in just about the same boat (pun intended) we’re in. The guys have been preaching and healing and exorcising their butts off, so Jesus tells them it’s time for a break. Unfortunately, even though they think they’re headed for a little R & R, the needy folks have other ideas. Jesus and his buddies can’t even sail off for a little picnic lunch without being hassled by a horde of sick and desperate people. But Jesus can’t just say, “Sorry, dudes. We’re on vacation. You’ll have to wait ‘til we get back or go find another Messiah.” No. Not even Jesus can escape the noise of the world. So, what do we take from this?

First, remember Jesus had the ability to show compassion for the multitude even when he was trying to find some rest. Nevertheless, he wanted the disciples to take a breather. Rest from responsibility, work, or even worrying about the state of the world is really important. Sometimes you just have to shut stuff off. It’s okay. Jesus said so. You won’t go to Hell for being kind to yourself every once in a while.

Second, sheep need a shepherd. I think what brought about Jesus’ compassion for the crowd in this story wasn’t their hunger or their illnesses. It was their desperation and confusion. The text doesn’t say he began to heal their sick. That happens in the later part of the reading which is really a separate story[i]. Instead, it says Jesus began to teach them. True leadership involves giving people the truth and leading them to a place of understanding. Jesus is the Good Shepherd because he teaches us love of enemies, inclusion, compassion, trust, mercy, humility, non-violence, and personal sacrifice for the sake of others. These are the things which God values. The shepherds of this world may have a different view, but the things of Christ are what bring us to a place of peace.

Finally, even when we desperately need a rest, God can give us the strength to go on. When the needs of the world are relentless, we remember that God’s power and love are even more relentless. A prayer for strength will always be answered because we serve a mighty God.

Whatever the wisdom or folly of our earthly shepherds, we know that it is the will of our Good Shepherd to lead us in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake and restore our souls. His is the voice we know and follow.

I hope you’re taking it easy sometime this week, my friend. May God’s peace be with you ‘til we meet again.

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[i] There’s that whole feeding the 5,000 and walking on water business that comes in between the two parts of this reading.

Religion and Politics

 I’m on vacation this week, so I don’t have to write a sermon on the death of John the Baptist, the assigned reading from Mark’s Gospel in the Revised Common Lectionary (Mark 6:14-29). Nevertheless, I attended my conference pericope study this week because I enjoy hanging out with my clergy colleagues and because my Dean of Conference—who is an excellent baker—promised he’d serve us the remnants of the scrumptious lemon-blueberry birthday cake he cooked for his husband. I have to say I was not disappointed by either the collegial discussion or the birthday cake.

The story of John’s martyrdom described by St. Mark has, through the centuries, taken on a rather prurient coloration. Thanks to Oscar Wilde’s 1893 play, Salome, and subsequent retellings by Hollywood, we always imagine King Herod Antipas as some lust-crazed pedophile who gets a thing for his stepdaughter and—against his better conscience—murders the prophet to please the girl and her offended mother. I think the story has more to tell us than that.

No matter how wealthy or well-protected a nation is, it can’t survive without good, moral leadership. Mark gives us this picture of a foolish leader, a man who makes a stupid promise and is too arrogant to admit his mistake. Herod loves to play to his base, so he’d rather lop the head off a righteous man than look weak in front of his fans. It’s a great irony, but sometimes one of the strongest things we can do is admit to our weakness. If we can’t “fess up” to our mistakes we’ll never correct them and we’ll most certainly repeat them. Herod is one of these guys who will double down when he knows he’s wrong.

As my clergy buddies and I discussed this passage, Pastor Dan made two interesting observations. First, he thought we should ask what is morally wrong with Herod’s guests. If the king was unable to admit his error, why didn’t any of the folks at his birthday party speak up for John? How afraid of this king were they that no one questioned his judgment? Instead of bringing the cake and ice cream, they were content to have a prisoner’s severed head brought into the banquet room. Moral cowardice, it seems, was contagious.

Secondly, Pastor Dan noted that John was arrested because he openly criticized the king for breaking a Jewish marriage law. By our standards today, we might not think what Herod did was so terrible. All the same, it was against the law. John knew that, if the leader of the nation openly breaks the law, then the law is not binding on anyone. John was making a political statement. There are those who wish the Church would only deal with matters of the individual spiritual life and leave public policy outside the church doors. The Bible, however, is full of stories of prophets—Jesus included—who challenged the earthly authorities.

For those who get uncomfortable with mixing politics with religion I will share my policy on preaching about the society in which we find ourselves.

First, there are things I can’t do. Even though former President Trump voided the Johnson Amendment which prohibited church leaders from endorsing or opposing a specific political party or candidate, the policy of the ELCA has been to behave as if that law were still in effect. As one under the authority of bishops, I follow their direction in such matters.

Secondly, there are things I shouldn’t do. I should never preach a sermon which is so inflammatory that the gospel gets lost amidst the social debate. Any commentary on social issues must be fully grounded in the teachings of the faith. Social issues come and go, but the command of Christ to love our neighbors and to show justice and mercy endures forever. What we should do must never overshadow why we are doing it.

Finally, there are things I won’t do. I won’t be so afraid of offending a congregant’s feelings that I tiptoe around a crucial social issue just to avoid controversy. As I stated above, the church has always used her voice to call out the state on matters of injustice. From John the Baptist to Martin Luther to Dietrich Bonhoeffer to Martin Luther King, Christians have recognized our responsibility to speak truth to power.

I will continue to preach, therefore, that it is the duty of the strong to protect the weak. I believe supply-side economics (aside from being totally impractical) favors the wealthy at the expense of service to the poor and, as such, ignores the command of Jesus to care for “the least of these.” I believe denying global climate change endangers everyone on this planet—especially those in the poorest of nations—and is an affront to our Creator. I believe American isolationism is economically impractical, shows a callous disregard for the multitudes who suffer in poverty around the globe, and is a threat to world peace and stability. I believe that the xenophobic hatred of migrants coming to the United States ignores the basic humanity of God’s children and does not address the reasons why so many have become refugees in the first place. I believe Jesus loved and died for everyone including LGBTQ+ folks, and, as such, I believe members of that community should be welcomed in our churches. I believe that Black lives matter. I respect life and I believe abortion is always a bad choice, but I cannot claim it is always the worst choice. That decision should be made by the one who might need the abortion and not by the church, the courts, or the government. Finally, I believe as Martin Luther has said we come to Christ by way of the gospel and the Holy Spirit—not by government edicts or regulations.

I am proud to be an American—even when my native land has made mistakes. Yes, we had a botched withdrawal from Afghanistan. Come to think of it, we had a botched withdrawal from Vietnam, too. We’ve done numerous things which, in hindsight, we could’ve done better or not done at all. But I think the world still looks to us as the nation with free speech, a free press, a fair and honest system of justice, and freedom of religion—any religion or no religion at all. We are also the land where every citizen of age—rich or poor, Black or white, gay or straight, male or female—has one vote for our leadership and the majority rules. When we abandon these principles, we stop being Americans. January 6, 2021 was the darkest day I can ever recall in America. May it never be repeated. May the voices of honesty, brotherhood, mercy, peace and responsibility drown out the voices of fear, greed, hatred, intolerance, and arrogance.

Pray for our nation, my friend, and do your part.

Strength Through Weakness (Reflections on Pentecost 7, Year B 2024)

“…for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:10b)

Happy Independence Day weekend to all my readers here in the good ‘ol USA! I hope you enjoyed your July 4^th and celebrated this great nation of ours. Yes, things are a bit unsteady just at present with a presidential election ramping up. We have one candidate who says he’ll make America great again. The other guy says we never stopped being great and are, in fact, the greatest nation in all of history. It’s pretty appropriate, I think, that the lessons assigned for Pentecost 7 in the Revised Common Lectionary touch a bit on the themes of greatness, strength, mission, and service. I think we’d do well as a people to reflect a little on what the Bible has to say about these things.

I don’t often focus too much on the continuous readings the RCL gives us from the New Testament epistles because, unless we have a festival service, the epistles are there for our edification but don’t often fit in directly with the Gospel reading or the liturgical theme of the day. On Pentecost 7, Year B, however, I might be able to make a connection. In this reading (2 Corinthians 12:2-10) Saint Paul is writing to a polarized community where everyone is running about trying to out-Christian everyone else. Paul tries to teach this gang of braggarts God has no use for their arrogance or their boasting. Paul knows he’s actually closer to God when he can admit his weakness. Paul doesn’t have to show off how great he is or brag about what he’s done. He knows it’s Jesus who has done everything for him. He can admit to being sinful, troubled, and in pain because he doesn’t value the adulation of the world. He’s okay with leaning on Jesus and finding his strength there.

In the accompanying Gospel lesson (Mark 6:1-13) Jesus instructs his disciples to go into the world in weakness. He sends the twelve out to do some old-fashioned missionary work—preach repentance, do a few exorcisms, heal the sick, your basic stuff—but do it as beggars. They’re not supposed to take anything with them for the journey. This might make Jesus a lousy Boy Scout, but it will have a spiritual effect on both the disciples and the ones they run into on the way. People will encounter the missionaries as poor migrants. They will have to decide if they wish to shelter or feed them. If they do, they’ll get nothing in return because these guys aren’t carrying any cash. For the disciples it will be a lesson in trust and faith. For those they meet, it will be an opportunity to show compassion and mercy. If they’re willing to reach out in kindness, they just may get a blessing from God. If they’re not, well, tough for them. The twelve will shake off the dust and move on.

Verse 13 tells us that this plan worked pretty well. That’s quite a contrast from what happened earlier back in Nazareth. It looks like that crowd was a little too close to Jesus to appreciate who he was and what he was preaching. Familiarity breeds contempt, we’re told, and it looks like the Nazarenes just couldn’t separate themselves from the hometown boy who made good. Their egos had to keep inserting themselves into the story. When a local gets famous, people either want to find a way to share in that person’s greatness (“Yes, I knew Jesus when he was just a little tyke. In fact, I’m the one who taught him how to read Hebrew. He wouldn’t be where he is today if not for me!”), or they find a way to diminish it so they won’t feel so ordinary themselves (“I’ve known Jesus all his life, and my Moshe got better grades in Hebrew school than he did. I don’t want to gossip, but you know Joseph and Mary weren’t even married when he was born. I’m just saying!”). In the face of these egos, even Jesus becomes powerless. He can’t do any deeds of power with these self-important folks. When we get hung up on ourselves, there’s no room for God to act.

Let’s face it: nobody wants to see themselves as unimportant, average, feeble, or weak. Nobody wants to face the world as a beggar or as one dependent. Dad doesn’t want to admit he can’t see well enough to drive anymore and has to surrender the car keys. Mom doesn’t want to have to use her walker even if she risks breaking a hip. But sometimes in admitting our weakness we find our true peace. That’s when God can work through us and work for us through others.

So, again, I hope you’ve enjoyed the long Independence Day weekend celebrating our great nation—a nation which I dearly hope will see her greatness not in her ability to conquer or control other nations, but in her ability to serve them. A nation which finds her strength in her ability to admit her faults and failings. A nation which is strongest when it cares for the weakest.

Happy 4^th, my friend. Come and see me again.