If there were
ever a chronicle about fear of scarcity, it’s today’s story of feeding 5000. All
four of the Gospel writers include the story. And, both Matthew and Mark have
what you might call alternative versions of feeding 4000 as well.
The reason this
is a story of scarcity, well…look how the story unfolds. Nearly everything the
disciples say is tinged with fear of not enough.
The first question Jesus asks is, “Where
are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” You’ll notice all it took was one
little question and immediately the fear and scarcity start. Philip, to whom
the question was addressed, replies, six months of labor would only buy enough
for everyone to have a morsel, not a full belly.
Andrew chips in with his version of fear
and scarcity. There’s a boy here with two fish and five loaves, but that sure
isn’t going to feed everyone either. It’s starting to sound like an improv
comedy act, with Jesus owning the punch line.
Let me tell you about two of the
biggest lies around: fear and scarcity. There are plenty of hard times for
plenty of people, and people die of starvation around the world. There is no
getting around that. And yet there’s also no getting around the people who have
the least give the most. In addition, we have the means worldwide to see that
everyone I the world has enough to eat. What we don’t have is the will to make
it happen. Sometimes I think prosperity breeds fear and scarcity.
I may have told this story before,
after eighteen months and more than a hundred fifty sermons, I might repeat
myself. But here’s what happens when fear and scarcity are banished by the
willingness to step out into the unknown.
I was serving a church where the
summers were unbearably hot and humid. It’s not unusual for homeless people there
to die of heat and in the winter to die of exposure. We’d had about a week of
days in excess of 105 degrees. And, another week or two of the same was
predicted. I’d been thinking of what the church could do to be a cool place for
people.
In walks the outreach chairperson to
tell me the cool shelters where people could take refuge from the heat were full.
She wanted to open the church to people who couldn’t stay cool in their own
homes and to our homeless sisters and brothers. We had a nice cool undercroft,
a fancy Episcopal word for basement. The space was also the parish hall and
where we served free meals one Sunday a month.
The outreach chairperson and I
started talking about what we’d need to open up the undercroft for shelter.
We’d need lots of bottled water, we’d need things for people to eat, we’d need
extra work from our janitor to keep the bathrooms clean, and let me tell you,
the budget was tight and (I feel as though I should whisper this part), so was
the congregation. But at some point in our conversation the outreach chair and
I both realized we were giving in to fear and scarcity. We looked at one
another and said, “Let’s go for it.”
Here’s what happened. As soon as it
hit the local media we were opening an additional shelter, almost a dozen places
called to offer donations of bottled water. A pizza place called offering to
deliver all the pizzas not picked up by the people who ordered. Who knew that
was even a thing? I can’t imagine ordering a pizza and not going to get it.
Other food kept rolling in: a corporation had a big luncheon and brought us all
the extra sandwiches from people who couldn’t attend. A soft drink distributor
donated cans of soda. It just went on and on. We always had more than enough.
During that period, I walked through
the undercroft at least once a day, talking to the people in the shelter, assessing
any needs they might have. Many of the people asked me to sit down and pray
with them. Notice: they didn’t always want me to pray for them, but with them. And people prayed in thanksgiving for the
blessing of the church.
At one point, one of our regulars at
the monthly meal, stopped me and said, “Pastor, what is the deal here?” I said,
“What do you mean?” He said, “I don’t understand it. There’s people in and out
all day and into the evenin’. When I come in here there was lots o’ pizza and
other stuff and we all kep’ eating. An’ lots o’ bottled water and soda, and we
all kept drinkin’ and stayin’ cool. An’ you come look at this pizza.” He took me over to the pizza and showed me all
the full boxes. “See what I mean?” he said. “We just keep eatin’ an’ the boxes
are alus full.”
I looked at him and he looked at me,
and we both smiled. “My friend,” I said, “what you’re seeing here is the loaves
and fishes story all over again. Only this time Jesus is doing it with pizza
and cold drinks.” We laughed and hugged each other.
God may not provide exactly what we
want. Sometimes it’s two fish and five loaves when we’d like to have something
else for dinner or we think we need more for dinner. I would much rather have
been able to offer those folks something healthier than pizza and soda. But I
didn’t make the decision and neither did the outreach chairperson. We simply
banished our fear, our scarcity, and our ideas that something had to be well
planned and orchestrated to work. We opened the church to the work of God, and
God made it better than we could ever have imagined.
(At the 10:15 service) or (In a few
minutes) we will baptize Teddy and Lucas. Children have a way of believing
impossible things. I like to think the boy with the two fish and five loaves
was probably thinking something like this, “Let’s see what this guy people
think is a prophet can do with my lunch.” I hope Lucas and Teddy will continue
to grow into believing in God’s impossible loving actions.
My prayer for Lucas and Teddy is that
they grow up surrounded by people who will help them learn Jesus is larger than
any fear, greater than any scarcity, and brings us to shore immediately when we
need it most.
These are my wishes for this
congregation I love. To know and love Jesus ever more deeply. To be a place
that draws people into that love. To be people who go out into the greater
community to demonstrate that love. And to be drawn to shore by Jesus when you
need it most. AMEN.
The Rev Nicolette Papanek
©2018
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