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“The Universe is made of stories, not of atoms.”  Muriel Rukeyser (15 December 1913 – 12 February 1980) was an American poet and political activist, best known for her poems about equality, feminism, social justice, and Judaism.  Just found that great quote in my Franklin Covey calendar on October 8 and had to share.

Great time to order gift copies of “Building Peace from the Inside Out” for Christmas or other occasions.  lulu.com is running a 20% off sale, in addition to the 20% discount already in place.  Use code SEPTEMBER305 at lulu.com

“Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear.  No one comes near.”  Those plaintive lyrics are from an old Beatle’s song, “Eleanor Rigby,” and as far as I know the only commentary offered by the Fab Four on preaching.  They came to mind this week as I was struggling with motivation to write an entry for this blog.  “Does anybody out there really even reading what I write?” I wondered.  “Will anybody notice if I take a week off?”  I must confess that even as technologically challenged as I am, my techie son-in-law helped me figure out how to check the stats on the WordPress blog program last week, and I had one of those Sally Field moments when I discovered that a lot of people are actually viewing my posts!  (If you are too young to remember Sally Field’s “you really like me” speech at the Academy Awards, you can Google it I’m sure.)

But as nice as those anonymous statistics are, I was still about to take a sabbatical and skip my weekly lectionary musing – until I got an email from a former student thanking me for last week’s post that helped him with his sermon preparation.  Instant motivation.

Funny how the presence of others affects our attitude and behavior isn’t it?  Our church had a very informal golf league this summer, and on two occasions I had the good fortune to play in a group that included a remarkable 9-year old girl who has a very special place in my heart.  Having Madeline in my foursome didn’t improve my golf game at all.  In fact, having her outdrive me on several holes probably made my threatened male ego swing harder, which, if you have ever tired that you know is a guaranteed formula for one of several results, none of which are good.  But what the presence of an innocent, impressionable child did do for me was help me refrain from uttering those very irreverent words that all too often proceed form my lips when my golf ball disappear into water, weeds or water.  (Someone cleverer than I once suggested that golf clubs should be called “profanity sticks.”)

Romans 13 urges us to “put on the armor of light” and “live honorably as in the day.” That’s often easier for me when someone else is watching.  (See “obeying traffic laws when cops are present,” “not eating junk food when spouse is not present,” or “when the cats away, the mice will play.”) 

Paul begins this passage from Romans with a discussion of rules and regulations, as in God’s Top Ten Commandments.  He lists three examples that cover a wide range of sins: adultery, murder, and coveting.  I’m sure those three were not chosen at random.  They stretch from what we might consider the most serious to the least, and I doubt that any of us can honestly say we haven’t done at least one of those three.  And if you can, I covet your morality.  But then Paul shifts from the negative to the positive.  He says, quoting Jesus, all the commandments are “summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.  Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law.” (vs. 9-10) 

It took me far too long in life to appreciate that rules and laws are for the most part meant to protect us – mostly from ourselves.  As a rebellious adolescent for 30 years or so, I resented the limitations rules put on me and had to learn the hard way why they were there.  I blame it on my first grade teacher who cast me as Peter Pan in my very first dramatic role.  Remember Peter is that boy who refuses to grow up?  Paul is telling the first century Roman church that it’s time to grow up and live in honorable ways, and 2000 years later, it’s still time for mature Christ-like living, just as it has been in every generation.

Paul repeats the negative/positive formula in verses 13-14.  He describes the immature life of darkness as one that includes “reveling and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness,” and then concludes with one that jumped out at me given the current polarization in our political and economic system.  He says those who put on the armor of light are not those who live “in quarreling and jealousy.”  As we saw a couple of weeks ago in the Exodus story, cooperation and collaboration, not quarreling and jealousy, are essential qualities for those who want to achieve great things and solve complex interpersonal or social problems.  (My August 9 blog post, “Wanted: More Collaborators, Romans 12:1-8, Exodus 1:8-2:10)

Given the way quarreling and jealousy have pushed our economy and political way of life to the brink of disaster, the urgency of putting on the armor of light is real.   Paul zeros in on urgency when he says “it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep (nightmare?).  For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near.” (vs. 11-12)  “Salvation is nearer to us now…”  It’s tempting to read that as a threat, just as we sometimes interpret rules and regulations as threats to our freedom.  Too often Christians have interpreted such urgent pleas for obedience as a warning that the end is near, Jesus is coming in on the next flight from the North Pole and he knows who’s been naughty and nice.  Oh, sorry, wrong guy, but you get the point.  Threats of punishment be they from Santa or Satan or some other source are all well-intended attempts to scare the hell out of us.

We can debate the effectiveness of that kind of moral motivation.  (See “how we drive when cops are not present,” “when the cats away…” etc.).  The point is that being accountable to an external authority works extremely well when that authority is present to observe our behavior.  But when we are suddenly on our own, like a new pilot making her first solo flight without benefit of an instructor in the co-pilot’s seat, or young adults living on their own for the first time, their being well grounded and responsible for our own values and behavior is a far better way to go.  That’s what putting on the armor of light means—walking with Christ so he helps guide our behavior when the siren song of our own selfish desires pulls us in directions that may seem like fun in the short-run but lead to long-term pain and suffering for ourselves and others. 

Notice what verse 11 says – “salvation is nearer…”  It doesn’t say judgment or damnation is breathing down our necks.  It isn’t a threat but a promise.  Salvation is a good thing.  Being saved from a threat or a danger is cause for celebration, not fear or resentment.  Theologians call that present tense salvation “realized eschatology.”  Eschatology is the study of end times, the end of the world, the second coming of Christ.  Those are scary thoughts that some Christians try to use to control others or to predict things that Jesus says not even he knows, only God.  (Mark 13:32, Matthew 24:36)  But realized eschatology is all about the fact that salvation is at hand here and now. You don’t have to die to get it.  Paul says in another of his letters (II  Cor. 6:2), “On a day of salvation I have helped you.  See now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!”

My point is that eternity, by definition, isn’t something that will begin at some future date.  It is eternal, beyond the limits of time, with no beginning and no end.  So the Christian assurance of  eternal life is both a promise for the future AND a present reality for those who “put on the armor of light and live honorably as in the day.”  When we do that we no longer have any need to hide under cover of darkness or to take on a different identity to conceal parts of our lives that embarrass or threaten us.  I was first angered and then saddened to read an email last week about a staffer for Congressman Darrell Issa of California.  It seems that this staffer, Peter Simonyi, was until recently known as Peter Haller.  There are conflicting stories about why Mr. Haller changed his name, but what makes the story interesting and controversial is that Congressman Issa, Mr. Simonyi’s boss, is the Chair of the House Oversight and Government Reform Committee which is responsible for regulating and overseeing companies like Mr. Haller/Simonyi’s former employer, Goldman Sachs.  Could there be a conflict of interest here that just might not stand up to the scrutiny of the light? 

The more important question is, do you and I behave any differently when we are out of town or someplace unlike the famous TV bar, “Cheers,” where nobody knows our name?   Are we tempted to do things that we would never think of doing if our mothers or children were watching?  What might we do in the hours of darkness that we would never do in the sober noon day sun?  That is not an invitation, by the way, to start packing for a guilt trip.  Guilt trips usually only lead us deeper into the darkness.   Instead, it is a summons to rejoice and be exceeding glad, for “salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed.”

As forgiven and redeemed children of God, we can live transparent lives in the spotlight of God’s son, and that is freedom and peace that passes all human understanding.

Romans 12 is one of those many familiar passages in the New Testament that praises humility, collaboration and teamwork, qualities that are sorely lacking in our fearful recession-plagued society and world.  What a great time to be reminded of the value our unique individual gifts can contribute to addressing complex social problems.

The Hebrew slaves in Exodus (1:8-2:10) were up an even bigger creek without a paddle than we are today, and that narrative provides a marvelous illustration of what collaboration and teamwork look like.  Most of us think of Moses as the great leader of liberation for the Hebrew exodus from slavery in Egypt.   He’s the one who boldly stares down Pharaoh, one of the most powerful rulers in the world, and demands freedom for God’s people.  True, it helped that he had divine intervention to back him up.  Those persuasive plagues God inflicts on Pharaoh’s people certainly make for memorable drama in Hollywood retellings of the Exodus story, be it the old Charlton Heston version or Disney’s animated “Prince of Egypt.”

Most people know something about Moses.  Shiphrah and Puah on the other hand are far from household names, and yet without those minor characters in this drama, there would have been no Moses and no Exodus.  Without the brave little slave girl, Miriam, and her courageous mother and their creative manipulation of Pharaoh’s daughter’s maternal compassion, Moses, the great liberator would not have survived the first year of life.  What a wonderful twist in this story (Exodus 2:5-9) when Moses’ sister tricks Pharaoh’s daughter into giving Moses back to his mother to nurse him.  The mother not only gets her son back but even gets paid for providing childcare.

The great African-American Preacher, James Forbes, preached on the Exodus story several years ago at the Schooler Institute on Preaching at the Methodist Theological School in Ohio (“Let My Leaders Go,” Nov. 13, 1990).  I still use a recording of that sermon regularly in the preaching classes I teach.  The essence of the sermon is that without the contributions of the “minor” characters in what Forbes calls “Phase I” of the liberation process, there could have been no Phase II led by Moses and his brother Aaron. 

In Romans 12 Paul says “do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God— what is is good and acceptable and perfect.”  The world’s order to the midwives is explicit and unambiguous.  They were to kill all the Hebrew boy babies at birth.  But the midwives were blessed with the ability to discern the will of God.  They were not conformed to the world and “did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live.”  When called on the royal carpet by the King himself to account for their disobedience of his decree the midwives are not intimidated because they feared God and knew where their ultimate obedience belonged.  They stand up to Pharaoh and exercise what Forbes calls “prophetic license,” telling a little white lie about how the Hebrew women are so vigorous that their babies are born before the midwives even arrive on the scene.

So Pharaoh tries a new tactic.  He orders all the male Hebrew baby boys thrown into the Nile after they are born.  And up steps another minor player in the drama.  A slave woman gives birth to a son, hides him for three months and then does what Pharaoh has commanded, sort of.  She puts her infant son into the river; only first she makes him a little boat to keep him afloat. Then she places her precious child in the most famous bulrushes in the world, strategically choosing the  spot where she knows Pharaoh’s daughter will find him because she regularly bathes there. 

Moses’ mother and sister exercise what Paul calls “sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned.”  They creatively and courageously do what is necessary to preserve the life of Israel’s future liberator.  What seem like insignificant actions by the midwives, the mother and sister, and Pharaoh’s daughter are all necessary components of the larger plot that unfolds many years later (Exodus 3) when God speaks to Moses in a burning bush and convinces him to step forward and confront the terrible injustice being inflicted on God’s people.

But notice that not even the great leader Moses is expected to do that daunting task alone.  And no wonder.  God is asking Moses to stand up to challenge one of the most powerful men in the world.  And one has to wonder how complicated this situation was since Moses’ adversary is none other than the one who had raised him and provided graciously for him in his own palace for many years.   Quite understandably Moses tries to talk his way out of this dangerous mission to confront the might of Pharaoh.  And what does God do?  Like a good coordinator, God provides a partner to fill some of Moses’ voids.  Moses’ brother Aaron is recruited to join Moses’ team, bringing his own unique gifts.  One of Moses’ excuses to God is that he isn’t a good public speaker; so God says, OK, we’ll get Aaron to do that part.  Sound familiar?  “We have gifts that differ according to the grace given us: ….. the exhorter in exhortation; … the leader in diligence.” (Rom. 12:6-8)

What daunting tasks do we face today that require partnership with others who have gifts different than our own?  Whatever the challenge, personal or social, local or global, the good news is that no matter how polarized our nation and world may seem, we are “one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.”   We are not alone, even though it often feels that way.  In these challenging times it is good to remember the wisdom of Benjamin Franklin at another crisis point in the life of the American people.  At the signing of the Declaration of Independence Franklin told his fellow collaborators, “We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately.”

Rugged individualism and mistrust of others won’t solve complex problems.  We need desperately to collaborate with each other and with God as illustrated in these two anonymous readings, one humorous, one serious, both true:

 The first is a letter from a client to his insurance company.

“I am writing in response to your request for more information concerning block #11 on the insurance form which asks for “cause of injuries” wherein I put “trying to do the job alone”.  You said you need more information, so I trust the following will be sufficient.

I am a bricklayer by trade and on the day of the injuries, I was working alone laying bricks around the top of a four story building when I realized that I had about 500 pounds of bricks left over.  Rather than carry the bricks down by hand, I decided to put them into a barrel and lower them by a pulley which was fastened to the top of the building.  I secured the end of the rope at ground level and went up to the top of the building and loaded the bricks into the barrel and swung the barrel out with the bricks in it.   I then went down and untied the rope, holding it securely to insure the slow descent of the barrel.

As you will note on block #6 of the insurance form, I weigh 145 pounds.  Due to my shock at being jerked off the ground so swiftly, I lost my presence of mind and forgot to let go of the rope.  Between the second and third floors, I met the barrel coming down.  This accounts for the bruises and lacerations on my upper body.

Regaining my presence of mind, I held tightly to the rope and proceeded rapidly up the side of the building, not stopping until my right hand was jammed in the pulley.  This accounts for the broken thumb.

Despite the pain, I retained my presence of mind and held tightly on to the rope.  At approximately the same time, however, the barrel of bricks hit the ground and the bottom fell out of the barrel.  Devoid of the weight of the bricks, the barrel now weighted about 50 pounds.  I again refer you to block #6 and my weight.

As you would guess I began a rapid descent.  In the vicinity of the second floor, I met the barrel coming up.  This explains the injuries to my legs and lower body.  Slowed only slightly, I continued my descent landing on the pile of bricks.  Fortunately, my back was only sprained and the internal injuries were minimal.

I am sorry to report, however, that at this point, I finally lost my presence of mind and let go of the rope, and as you can imagine, the empty barrel crashed down on me.

I trust this answers your concern.  Please know that I am finished ‘trying to do the job alone.’

How about you”?

The second reading I first saw in a publication from the Roman Catholic Maryknoll Sisters.

“And the Lord said, ‘GO!’
And I said, ‘who me?’
And God said, ‘Yes you.’

And I said,
‘But I’m not ready yet
And there is studying to be done.
I’ve got this part-time job.
You know how tight my schedule is.’
And God said, ‘You’re stalling.’

And the Lord said, ‘GO!’
And I sighed’
‘Here I am…send me.’

Looking for feedback – what do you like or not like about my blog so far?  What would be more helpful for you.  Please leave me your comments.  Thanks, Steve

[Note:  I decided to do a Bible study blog this week after all]

The phrase “dysfunctional family” is redundant and apparently always has been if the Biblical record is any indication.  We all have embarrassing stories about our families or meeting the prospective in-laws for the first time.  And those are minor issues compared to abusive or violent situations that are all too common, especially in times of great economic and personal stress and pressure.

We’ve all had those moments when a parent pulls out our naked baby pictures to show to a friend or date, and now with You Tube and other digital demons, the opportunities for embarrassing photos being widely disseminated has increased exponentially.  Many of us have had times when we would like to sell a sibling to a passing band of Ishmaelites, but Joseph’s brothers actually do it. 

No family is perfect.  We sometimes look at affluent neighborhoods with manicured lawns and assume those living there have lives that are as impressive as the facades of their large beautiful homes.  But no socio-economic class is immune from jealousy, insecurity, tragedy and other causes of brokenness.  Earlier chapters of Genesis detail family conflicts between Cain and Able, Jacob and Esau, and now the critical Joseph saga that is prelude to slavery in Egypt and the Exodus salvation of God’s people begins in a tale of sibling rivalry and jealousy that goes rapidly from bad to worse.

Before we get to the oppression of the Hebrews by Pharaoh we encounter some within Jacob’s family, within God’s own people.  Perhaps this is a reminder that before we cast too many stones at those ” bad people” out there, we should do some introspection and recognize the logs in our own eyes.  No problems can be addressed in a family or any relationship until we first recognize they are there.   When Jacob tells Joseph (vs. 14) to go “see if it is well with your brothers,” he is inquiring about their well-being, their peace/shalom.  We see very quickly there is no peace in Shechem where Joseph’s brothers are plotting fratricide and finally compromise on selling him and lying about his death at the hands of a wild animal. 

The authors of this story want to make very sure we know this is about a family.  The word brother appears 20 times, father 10 times and son 8, and there is plenty of blame to go around for all of the above.  It is easy to see the sins of the brothers who sell Joseph, but as is often the case in athletic events, the secondary offender is often the one called for the infraction because, especially in the good old days before instant replay, the initiator of a conflict escapes the notice of the referee.  Joseph and Jacob need to share the blame for this family crisis.  Jacob blew his paternal responsibilities by playing favorites among his sons and Joseph eggs his brothers on by bragging about his dreams and his special treatment from Daddy, and in general being a tattle tale. 

My point is that evil is not just out there in the villains du jour, be they Egyptians or Joseph’s brothers or our contemporary religious or political enemies.  There is jealousy and unkindness and chicanery among the household of God too, then and now.  We can’t do anything about Jacob’s dysfunctional family.  That’s history.  But we can learn from their mistakes and realize that jealousy or competition or putting on holier-than-thou airs like Joseph does will not work well as evangelistic strategies for the church today.  To attract new disciples into the church requires a level of genuine honesty and authenticity possible only when we feel secure in our own faith relationship with a loving, forgiving God.  The value of being secure and real is captured in a great quote from the beautiful children’s story, “The Velveteen Rabbit,” by Margery Williams:

“The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

“What is REAL?” asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.”

“Does it hurt?” asked the Rabbit.

“Sometimes,” said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. “When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.”

“Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,” he asked, “or bit by bit?”

“It doesn’t happen all at once,” said the Skin Horse. “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

“I suppose you are real?” said the Rabbit. And then he wished he had not said it, for he thought the Skin Horse might be sensitive.

But the Skin Horse only smiled.”

Jealousy is certainly not the only cause of conflict in human relationships, but it is high on the list.  Comparison of oneself to others is always dangerous because there will always be some better or worse off.  Coveting, a synonym for jealousy, is so dangerous it merits its own place as one of the 10 commandments.  Why is that?  Some would argue that competition is good motivation to try harder, and there is truth to that.  Competition can inspire great achievements, e.g. the landing of humans on the moon was powered as much by competition with the USSR as it was by solid rocket fuel.   But competition becomes destructive when the value of persons and not their accomplishments become the standard of measurement as happens in the Joseph story. 

When we feel insecure and are motivated by an economy of scarcity no amount of wealth, power, or prestige is ever enough.  Keeping up with the Joneses is quickly transformed into staying ahead of them.  Winning in business or athletics trumps integrity and community resulting in use of illegal performance enhancing drugs or unethical business practices.  Winning an election becomes more important than serving the public good.  Self-interest clouds wise and impartial judgment.  People who start down a career path intending to do good become blinded by the desire to do well. 

In many ways our culture teaches us to be discontent in whatever state we are in – always wanting more in a consumer crazy culture – always thinking the grass is greener on the other side of the fence or tracks, only to discover when we get there that it is artificial turf. 

We are all part of God’s family in desperate need to learn to live together peaceably.  The width and breadth of the interconnectedness of the human family is lifted up for us very subtly in the final verse of this text from Genesis 37.  (Ignore the confusion in this story about whether the traders who bought Joseph were Ishmaelites or Midianites.  It says both and this is likely from the combination of two versions of this story.) 

It is the late reference to Midianites in this text that intrigues me because centuries later in this story of God’s people (Exodus 2), Moses, the hero of the Exodus story, marries Zipporah, daughter of Reuel/Jethro, a priest of Midian.  It’s a small world because we are all sisters and brothers in God’s family and need to learn to live together like real siblings should.

My Bible Study blog will return next week with another post on a new lectionary text.

My book, Building Peace from the Inside Out is now available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, in addition to lulu.com. 

Building Peace from the Inside Out  is not a book that tells about peace.  It is a collection of inspirational plays and stories that show by positive and negative example what peace looks and feels like. The characters in this book wrestle with common challenges of the human condition: ageism, materialism, insecurity and self-centeredness. They illustrate the destructive results of fear, anger, hate, prejudice, a lack of vision and integrity. 

On the positive side of the ledger, there are also characters who embody and live out values that lead to peace. They demonstrate that peace requires openness to surprise and how compassion is critical to any hope for peace and justice. Through narrative, we see how the “have-nots” can teach the “haves” what brings real peace in our lives—integrity, courage, and forgiveness.  The power of having a vision and the courage to trust and follow one’s purpose also show up repeatedly on these journeys to peace.  

A portion of all proceeds from this book will be donated to three peacemaking organizations:

Habitat for Humanity

C. Everett and Mary Tilson Fund for Social Justice Ministries, Methodist Theological School in Ohio

Tariq Khamisa Foundation, an education program to end youth violence

Matthew 14:13-21, “All We Have is Enough,”  Gospel Lesson for July 31, 2011

The old Beatles’ song, “Eleanor Rigby,” has a haunting refrain that says, “All the lonely people, where do they all come from?”   I don’t know where they come from, but I know to whom they come – the church.  They come hungering for physical and spiritual food.  Frederick Beuchner says it’s not the presence of God that keeps us coming back to church every week, but the absence, the hunger.  And the needs of all the lonely people can feel overwhelming.

Someone once said that being in ministry is like being in a tank of piranhas; no one wants much of us, but everyone wants a little piece.  And often we feel empty and inadequate, barely able to keep our own souls and bodies together.  How can we feed all those lonely people?

Many years ago when I was a youth minister in a large suburban congregation I was working at the church on a Sunday afternoon making last minute preparations for two youth group meetings that evening.  Dressed in the typical youth minister uniform of blue jeans and sweatshirt, running late and feeling harried, I looked more like the church custodian than one of its pastors.  Having no time for any interruptions, I was dismayed to look up and see a man walk into the church office.  From the way he was groomed and dressed I knew he was probably homeless and looking for food or shelter or some kind of assistance.  When he asked if the pastor was around I immediately rationalized that he really meant “was the Sr. Minister around,” and without missing a beat I said, “No, I haven’t seen him.”  That stranger went away, still hungry, and 25 years later I am still living with the regret of not responding to his hunger. 

Sometimes we feel like the disciples out there in a lonely place with Jesus and a crowd of hungry people.  Jesus and his weary band of disciples had tried to get away from it all for some badly needed R & R, only to find there was no place to hide from all the lonely people.  The disciples  were probably frightened, having just heard that John the Baptist had been brutally beheaded by King Herod.  They needed time to grieve and regroup.  But even in those pre-Twitter days, people heard where Jesus was and their hunger drew them to him.  He, of course, had compassion on them and could not send them away.  He knew that when those hungering and thirsting for righteousness come knocking on our door, if we don’t feed them, they’ll stop off for junk food somewhere else on their way home from church.

You know who they are, the unemployed or underemployed, the sick and lame, the lonely, the broken-hearted, those suffering from doubts and fears and addictions, the abused, the single parents, confused teens and young adults, the elderly, those without health care.  There must be 5000 of them!!   We can’t possibly feed them all.  Let’s send them off to McDonalds or Taco Bell, Jesus, so they can find something for themselves to eat.  “No,” Jesus says to the disciples and to us, “You give them something to eat.”  “What,” we moan in disbelief.  “You don’t understand, Jesus.  We only have 5 loaves and two fish!”

John Westerhoff tells the story in his book Will Our Children Have Faith? of a young couple in a Roman Catholic church who desperately wanted to have children but seemed doomed to remain childless.  It wasn’t that they weren’t trying.  And when the normal reproductive process didn’t work they consulted the best medical practitioners they could find.  Still no baby.  Through several years of frustration and disappointment after disappointment the couple leaned heavily on the spiritual and moral support of their local priest, Father John, who prayed with and for them, comforted and consoled them.  Then one day when they thought all hope was gone a miracle happened and the young woman conceived.  She gave birth to a beautiful healthy boy and they named him John in honor of their priest.  Father John was thrilled to baptize little Johnny and enjoyed watching him grow into an inquisitive toddler.

When Johnny was almost two years old he was out in the front yard with his mother early one beautiful summer morning.  They were laughing and playing with a ball when their black lab chased the ball into the neighbor’s yard.  The mother went after the run-away puppy, momentarily taking her eyes off her son.  Johnny toddled after a butterfly and ended up in the driveway just as his father came rushing out of the house late for work.  Dad, not seeing Johnny behind the car, jumped behind the wheel and backed over Johnny, killing him instantly.

Father John rushed to the house as soon as heard of the tragedy.  When he got there he found the young couple devastated and in shock sitting on their bed holding each other.  The priest was speechless.  He could not muster any words that seemed anything more than pious platitudes or clichés; so he just sat on the edge of the bed and cried with them.

The funeral for Johnny was one of the hardest things Father John had ever done in 20 years of ministry.  A few days after the funeral he went by the family’s home to see how they were doing.  He was filled with dread and regret as he rang their doorbell because he had been so inadequate in addressing their unimaginable grief.  Much to his surprise the young wife greeted him with open arms and thanked him profusely for what he had done for them.  “But I didn’t do anything,” Father John protested.  “I couldn’t think of anything to say.  I just sat and cried.”

“I know,” she said.  “You gave us all that you had, and it was enough.”

The disciples want to send the crowds away because they have so little to offer them, just 5 loaves and 2 fish.  Jesus says, “You give them something to eat.”  Notice what happens next.  When the disciples tell Jesus what resources they have, he simply says, “Bring them here to me.”

 God doesn’t ask us to give more than we have.  That would be unfair, and we do not serve an unjust God.  God simply asks us to give ALL that we have.  Jesus gave us his all and asks the same of us in return.  And when we do, it’s enough.  God doesn’t ask those of us who can’t carry a tune in a bucket to sing solos in church, but we are asked to fully use the talents we have been blessed with, to share the resources we have with those who have less.  And when we entrust what we have, all that we have, to God, it is blessed and multiplied; and all those lonely people are fed.  And not only are they fed, they are all filled.  And not only are they all filled, there are enough left-overs to feed the next bunch of hungry, lonely pilgrims that are already coming down the road. 

When we feel overwhelmed and inadequate to respond to all the lonely people, remember these two things:  Jesus doesn’t call us and then go on sabbatical.  He is with us always, even to the end of the age.  He is always there to take our meager gifts and transform them into an overflowing cup of living water.  And most importantly, if we respond in faith and entrust God with all that we have, I promise you in Christ’s name, our five loaves and two fish will always be more than enough.