At
the Table with the Community Church of Durham
October
13, 2019 + World Communion Sunday
Dave
Grishaw-Jones
A Meditation on Mark
8:1-21
1.
In
the story, which is not just an old story but a pressing and contemporary one,
the great
“I
have compassion for the crowd,” Jesus says.
Because they’ve been out there with him for days: and they’re
hungry. Because they’ve been impoverished
by Roman colonialism: and they’re hungry.
Because they’ve been chased from their lands and their crops and their
traditions: and they’re hungry. That
word ‘crowd’—or ochlos in Greek—distinguishes this particular throng as
the forgotten poor, the struggling masses, the crowd living paycheck to
paycheck, prayer to prayer. “If I send
them away hungry to their homes,” Jesus says, “they will faint on the way—and
some of them have come from a great distance.”
Now
I know this is the United Church, and we’ve got a hundred different versions of
Jesus and who he is, and what he means, and how he fits into our lives. But no matter where you start—progressive or
evangelical, orthodox or universalist—this is one of those texts you just can’t
sidestep. Jesus opening his heart to his
disciples. Jesus aching aloud for the
suffering of the poor. If we’re going to
make Jesus the cornerstone of our Christian
practice, if we’re going to be a United Church of Christ, his compassion for the crowd is like the lifeblood of our
spirituality. It carries the oxygen
around the body. It distributes the
energy and purpose from limb to limb, and organ to organ. We’re not merely talking about ethical
obligations, although they’re part of the mix.
But we’re talking about spirituality and love. Living freely and bravely in the Spirit of
God.
“I
have compassion for the crowd.” Jesus is
opening his heart to you and me. Right
here in Durham today. This is something
like the lifeblood of our spirituality.
And
this is where the notion of incarnation—the embodiment of God—is so powerful,
so energizing, and so disruptive in the church.
If Jesus is the embodiment of God in the world, the word made flesh, that
Word, God’s Word is Compassion. “I have
compassion for the crowd,” he says, out there in the wilderness, “for they’re
hungry and they’re about to faint and there’s nobody out here gonna feed them.” I have compassion for the crowd. And I’m moved to do something about it.
2.
And
then Jesus gets into it with his disciples.
Seems like he’s always getting into it with his disciples. They’re stuck in this spirituality of helplessness,
this spirituality of scarcity, this spirituality, if we’re honest, of the
marketplace. “How can one feed these
people with bread here in the desert?” Remember: this is not just an old story, but
a pressing and contemporary one. “How
can one feed these people with bread here in the desert?” We just don’t have
enough resources in this land to care for the refugees coming across. We just don’t have
enough jobs in this economy for the immigrants looking for a better life. We just don’t have
enough money in the system to give folks a living wage. We just don’t have
bread in the basket for the millions of children who go hungry every night. Do you see how this spirituality of
helplessness, this spirituality of scarcity is all around us? And isn’t it odd that it seems even more
pervasive, even more restrictive, even more entrenched in affluent cultures,
and affluent nations, and affluent communities?
“How can one feed these people with bread here in the desert?” Can’t be done.
And
Jesus does what Jesus so often does: Jesus asks them a pointed question. Do you know that, if you read the four
canonical gospels from beginning to end, Jesus is more inclined to ask a great question than to answer one? He’s a
rabbi, after all, and like a great rabbi Jesus invites curiosity, bewilderment
and human discovery in the hearts and spirits of those he loves. And here, in today’s text, he asks the
simplest question of all, which turns out to be the most provocative and
transformative question the disciples or the crowd have ever heard. “How many loaves do you have?” “How many loaves to you have?”
3.
And
they have seven. Seven loaves.
And
with those seven loaves, Jesus inaugurates an entirely new spirituality. Make no mistake. He inaugurates an entirely new
spirituality. (And sisters and brothers,
siblings of God, it can change the world, this new spirituality.) Jesus takes the seven loaves, and he prays
over them. He thanks God for every wisp
of grain, and for every drop of rain, and for every ray of sunshine, and for
every hand that tended every field. And he
prays—big time—over the seven loaves.
Inaugurating an entirely new spirituality. And he breaks them in his hands and he gives
all the pieces to his disciples to distribute.
(By the way, that’s you and me, the disciples. We’re the distributors!) And then he does the same with the few small
fish that turn up. He prays over the
fish. He thanks God for every flowing
stream, and for every winter shower, and for every fisherman and every net and
every catch at the break of day.
Inaugurating an entirely new spirituality, you see. Abundance, not scarcity. Generosity, not helplessness. And he gives the few small fish to his
disciples too. And they distribute the
fish, and the bread, and the whole crowd eats.
The
whole crowd eats, and they’re filled.
And I’ve got to imagine that there’s laughter out there in the desert,
as they’re eating. Laughter that climbs
the hills and bounces back. And I’ve got
to imagine that there’s joy out there, as they’re passing the bread around and
the fish. The kids diving in, the elders
wiping fish scales off their lips.
Eating all they need. All they
need.
And
there’s so much out there in the desert, this is in the story too: there’s so
much food and so much love and so much grace and so much God, that they take up
seven baskets left over. Go ahead and
say that with me: “SEVEN BASKETS LEFT OVER!”
Say it again: “SEVEN BASKETS LEFT OVER!” Enough to take back to town. Enough to take door to door. Enough.
Enough. Enough.
So
my friends, I don’t think this is a story about magic. There’s no doubt in my mind it’s miraculous;
but I don’t think Jesus is much interested in magic. What Jesus dares us to invest in is a
spirituality of abundance, a spirituality of generosity, a spirituality of
grace. We know where his heart’s at: his
heart overflows with compassion and love and delight. His heart brims with confidence in the
abundance of the fields, in the abundance of the rivers and lakes, in the
abundance of the sun and rain and creation itself. You have enough, he says to the church
today. You are enough, he says to the
church today. The way, my Way, is a way
of abundance.
So
we are called, you and I, to walk that Way together. In a world of walls, we are called to knock
them down. There is enough, we say to
the world. We are enough. In a world of poverty, we are called to enact
justice and mercy. There is enough, we
say to the world. We are enough. In a world of fear and anxiety, gated
communities and suspicious security systems everywhere we look, we are called
to fearlessness and love. There is
enough, we say to the world. We are enough.
Now
just a little while ago, you were all paying attention to the reading, to the
story, to Jesus’ invitation to a whole new spirituality, a spirituality of
abundance. Did you happen to notice how
quickly, how quickly, the disciples forgot?
We don’t often read the entirety of this text in church; but it’s
instructive. No sooner do they get into a
boat, to cross over to the other side, then the disciples slip fast into their
old ways. “We’ve got only one loaf with
us.” How will we ever complete this
mission? There’s hardly enough for a snack!
Do
you see how that old, sly, seductive spirituality of scarcity is almost like a
default position for these disciples?
They’ve just been part of a most wonderful, communal, transformative
moment: when thousands were fed, and the gifts of God blessed, and the abundance
of resources, the abundance of earth’s gifts shared around and around and
around. And moments later, just moments
down the road, they’ve forgotten all about it.
“We’ve only got one loaf with us.”
How can we even imagine going forward with so little?
The
point is, I think, that we live in a culture almost addicted to this
spirituality of scarcity. We live in a
society where anxiety is stitched into almost every strip of the social
garment. The economy. Our religions, for sure. Our education system. Pay attention to the advertising you come across
this week. “We’ve only got one loaf with
us.” How will we ever complete this
mission? There’s hardly enough for a
snack.
But
this morning, friends, we remember.
World Communion Sunday! This
morning, we remember Jesus our brother in the desert: lifting his eyes to God,
blessing the loaves he does have, praising God for the fish in hand,
celebrating the power of generosity and the bounty of the earth. This morning, we remember that Jesus turns
the tables on all this anxiety, on the scarcity we think is real; and he
inaugurates a whole new spirituality, a spirituality of abundance, a
spirituality of grace. He’s asking you
and he’s asking me to open our hearts to his.
He’s inviting us to cast our lot with his lot. He’s calling you and me to follow: the Way of
the Christ, the Way of the Cross, the Way of Enough. It’s the way top new life, and new hope, and
new courage. And a new way of feasting
and multiplying the gifts of God!
As
we break bread today and as we remember Christians around the world doing the
same, we open our hearts and our hands to Jesus whose compassion is planted
once again in our dreams and in our prayers.
Be alert. Be awake. In the bread and in the juice, and in your
prayers, Jesus is again inviting your companionship on the way of abundance, on
the way of generosity, on the way of peace.
He rises again. Resurrection is a
way of life for us in the church. And
there is good work to be done. And
plenty of bread for the journey!
