"An Epiphany of Abundance." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on John 2:1-11.

"An Epiphany of Abundance"

John 2:1-11

Jesus and his mother and his disciples are attending a wedding.  Anyone who’s ever officiated or planned a wedding can tell you that things can go wrong. 

            In those days a wedding was a great occasion, and most everybody in the village, plus some people from neighboring villages, would have been invited.   Weddings were hosted by the groom’s family, and the celebrations lasted for up to a week. 

            This celebration is in trouble, because on the third day, they’re running out of wine.  This is a crisis for the family responsible for hospitality. 

            David Lose explains why this was such a disaster: “Wine isn’t merely a social lubricant…it’s a sign of the harvest, of God’s abundance, of joy and gladness and hospitality.  And so, when they run short on wine they run short on blessing.  And that’s a tragedy.”[1]

            Jesus’ mother goes to him and identifies the problem.  But Jesus says, “That’s really not our concern.  And my hour has not come.”  In the theology of John’s Gospel, “the hour” is the hour when Jesus goes to the cross. 

            His mother tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

            There were six stone water-jars there, ready to be used in the Jewish purification rituals.  Each held about twenty or thirty gallons.   “Fill the jars with water,” Jesus says to the servants, and they do.   “Now draw some out,” he says, “and take it to the chief steward.” 

            When the chief steward tasted the water that had turned into wine, he didn’t know where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew.   He called the bridegroom and said, “Normally people serve the good wine first, and then the cheap stuff when people have already had plenty to drink.  But you’ve kept the really good wine for now.”

            John tells us that Jesus did this as the first of his “signs” and revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.  The miracles Jesus performs in the Fourth Gospel are never called miracles—but “signs.”  These “signs” are about revealing a deeper reality about Jesus.

In the first verses of his gospel—the prologue, which we heard on Christmas Eve--John identifies the major themes of his message.  We hear that the Word became flesh and lived among us, full of grace and truth…. From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. Turning water into wine is revealing abundant grace. And what does abundant grace taste like? Like the really good wine, when you were expecting the cheap stuff.            

            No matter how hard we may try to “spiritualize” today’s gospel lesson, we have 150 gallons of really good wine at a wedding party that had been experiencing scarcity. 

            Today’s gospel text is about the very nature of God… and about the very purpose of being human.  The nature of God is pure grace-- abundant… surprising grace.  Grace overflowing to the brim, in times and places we least expect it.

            Karoline Lewis has suggested that we have so modified and codified abundance that it’s hard to recognize it anymore.  Some have monopolized abundance…hoarded it…thinking that it is theirs to control, theirs to possess, and theirs to take away. “Theirs to keep for themselves, because those without it? Well, clearly they have not merited God’s attention, earned God’s graces.”[1]

            The gospels teach us that abundance is never about you or me and Jesus alone, as much as we might want it to be—but about bringing us into life—true life, abundant life, for all. In God’s life of abundance, abundance is not ours to grasp individually, but in beloved community, in the world God so loves.

            We need to pay attention to the details in this story.  The water-jars were there to be used for Jewish purification rituals--   When Jesus turned the water into wine, it was a sign that God was doing a new thing.

            And I wonder:  What if Jesus had stuck with his original feeling?  It is not my problem, it is not my time.  What if all of his life Jesus had said, "That’s not my problem and it is not my time"?

            That’s unimaginable, isn’t it?

            Closer to our own time, in the mid 1950s, Martin Luther King wrapped up his course work for his Ph.D. and took his first call to a church.  His dissertation wasn’t done yet when Martin Luther King left graduate school and took a job as a pastor of a church in Montgomery, Alabama. 

            Not long after he went to Montgomery, Rosa Parks refused to go to the back of the bus.  A meeting was held in the African-American community in Montgomery, and they asked who was going to lead the boycott.  

            All the other pastors and all the other influential leaders of the African-American community were smart enough to know that this looked like a risky business.  They decided to get the new pastor in town to lead the boycott.  

            Rev. Martin Luther King had every reason in the world to say, "It is not the right time for me. I have a young family.  I have a dissertation to finish writing.  I have a congregation that doesn’t know me or trust me yet.   If I start out at the head of this enterprise, what will that do to my relationship to my congregation?  It just isn’t a good time.   I have all these reasons why.  This isn’t the time for me to do something like this.” 

            But, as we all know, this very human being was moved from “not my time” -- to yes.

            More than 60 years have passed since the Montgomery bus boycott.   Fifty-six years have passed since the March on Washington when Dr. King gave his “I have a dream” speech. More than 50 years have passed since he wrote his last book before he was assassinated: “Where Do We Go from Here: Chaos or Community?”

            Have we made progress since that time?  Undoubtedly.  But we need to be honest with ourselves about where we the people of the United States are   and about our history.

            Later in the Gospel of John, we hear Jesus saying, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”[3]

            I believe the gospel has the power to set us free-- as individuals, as a community, as a society-- if we have ears to hear the good news… if we have faith to trust in God’s power to transform us and bind us together in Beloved Community… if we trust in the gospel’s truth to make us free.

            Some of the stories we heard during Advent remind us that sometimes people have a failure of imagination, like Zechariah, when the angel Gabriel told him Elizabeth was going to have a baby: “How can this be?”

            In our time and place, God calls us to be the people who come to know God, to experience the grace and abundance of Jesus Christ, to embody that love and live together in Beloved Community with all of God’s children.  

            Whenever we’re afraid we won’t have enough—enough money or power or privilege or security-- whenever we think the party’s over because things are changing, God will keep doing new things and surprising us with new wine that is sweeter and tastier than ever before… and give us dreams and visions to help us live more fully into the life of abundance and grace into which God calls us.  Can we imagine it?   Is anything impossible for God?      

            In a world threatened by ethnic, racial, and religious conflict, the consequences of trying to defend the status quo or to keep most of the money and resources and power in the hands of a a few…  or of wallowing in the valley of despair and fear and negativity are enormous. But the rewards of inclusive justice and healing are too important not to try.           

            The prophets and the gospel call us to dream, to imagine an alternative reality of Beloved Community for all God’s people.  They challenge us to embody it in our daily lives, trusting that God will provide abundant new wine and better things than we ever tasted or seen or imagined   and a life overflowing with joy and blessing in God’s presence.

            Thanks be to God! 

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

January 20, 2019

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[1] David Lose, “Epiphany 2B: What Grace Looks Like!” http://www.davidlose.net/2016/01/epiphany-2-b-what-grace-looks-like/ 

[2] Wright, John for Everyone, Chapters 1-10 (Westminster John Knox Press, 2002), Kindle Edition, Loc 472.

[3] John 8:32

[4] Jim Wallis, America’s Original Sin:  Racism, White Privilege, and the Bridge to a New America.  (Brazos Press, 2016), Kindle Edition, Location 388.

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[1] Karoline Lewis, at Working Preacher. https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?m=4377&post=5276

"Don't Worry or Be Afraid." A Sermon from Littlefield Church on Luke 12:13-34.

"Don't Worry or Be Afraid"

Luke 12:13-34

       

In this world we live in, there’s so much to fear.  Political speeches on various parts of the spectrum have named a litany of things and people that we should be afraid of.   When we travel, we go through security screenings.  There are metal detectors at big events, surveillance cameras in a growing number of places.  Churches have security systems.   I just attended a training on safety in houses of worship.  We’re surrounded by reminders of the possibility of danger and possible loss.

            On my phone, I get texts and emails from the local police and the Nextdoor app with subject headings like “Be on the lookout”, “Heed the Warning”, “Attempted home invasion,” “Secure your home and automobile.”    From a variety of voices, we keep getting messages: “Be afraid.  Be very afraid.”

            Truth be told, a lot of the news is grim around the country.  Mass shootings.  Forest fires. Global warming.  Economic worries.  Diseases. Fears of not having enough.

             

            At the beginning of today’s gospel lesson, Jesus warns people in the crowd to be on their guard against all kinds of greed.  He puts our relationship with material wealth in perspective: “for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of possessions.”

            Then Jesus tells a parable, about a rich man whose land produced abundantly-- so abundantly that his barns were full.  He had so much that he’d run out of space to store his harvest. This rich man thought to himself, “What should I do?”

            Then he answers himself: “I’ll do this: I’ll pull down my barns and build larger ones, and there I’ll store all my grain and my goods. And I’ll say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years. Relax, eat, drink, be merry.”

            This rich man thinks--or hopes-- that if he can only fill more barns, then he can finally relax and be happy.

            But God said to the rich man, ‘You fool!  This very night your very life is being demanded of you. And the things you have prepared, whose will they be?’ So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

            Jesus goes on to teach his disciples: “Therefore I tell you, don’t worry about your life, about what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear. For life is more than food, and the body more than clothing.

            Look at the birds, Jesus says.  They don’t worry about stuff, and God provides for them.  Look at the lilies.  They don’t worry about stuff, and God provides for them.  How much more will God provide for you?   It is God’s good pleasure to provide in abundance.   Don’t be anxious.  Don’t worry or be afraid.   

            Stuff, Jesus tells us, is not to be collected and stored up.    Stuff is to be shared… given away…used for others.  He told a rich man who was too attached to his wealth, “Sell your stuff and give it away to those who are in need.”[1] 

            The kind of life Jesus describes has to do with choosing to live more simply, choosing to intentionally have less stuff, choosing to stop collecting more possessions… choosing to discover our sense of well-being in a just sharing of material possessions.

            What Jesus teaches about having a faithful relationship to possessions isn’t hard to understand.  But it isn’t easy to follow. 

            It’s so counter-cultural, in a society in which we are known as consumers… a society in which we are bombarded by messages that try to convince us that the things we buy and own can make us happy…secure…and content. 

            I’ve become more and more convinced that the greed and worry and fear that Jesus keeps warning his disciples about are at the root of so much of the evil and the problems in our world today.           We live in one of the richest nations in the world.  Yet we don’t seem to have the will to make sure that the neediest of Americans have what they need.

            We have enough food to provide basic nutrition to everyone in our nation. There’s enough food in the world for everyone to have a basic diet.  It’s a matter of priorities.  What are our highest priorities?  To care for the most vulnerable in our nation?   To pay for wars?  To give tax cuts to the wealthiest people?

            I believe that—deep down—a lot of us want to be more generous and gracious.  I think what gets in the way for a lot of us has to do with chronic anxieties.  We worry about whether we’ll have enough.  We’re afraid we’ll be vulnerable or dependent if we don’t build bigger barns or houses or retirement accounts, so we cling tightly to what we have. Maybe we tell ourselves that, if we can accumulate more-- then we’ll be happy and secure, and then we’ll be free to share.

Jesus knows our human condition.  I think that’s why he spent so much time teaching about how to be in a faithful relationship with material possessions and how to have faithful priorities. 

            I like the way Eugene Peterson translates this passage in The Message.  Peterson hears Jesus saying, “What I’m trying to do here is get you to relax, not be so preoccupied with getting-- so you can respond to God’s giving…. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met….” 

“Don’t worry about your life,” Jesus says.  “Don’t keep striving for the things of this world…  Your Father in heaven knows what you need…. So, strive for God’s kingdom, and what you really need will be given to you as well.”

“What you really need will be given to you…. It is God’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

            Do we believe this?   Do we live like we believe it—like we trust God to give us what we need? 

            Imagine how freeing it would be if—instead of being afraid, instead of worrying—we would stake our lives in trust in our great and faithful God!     

            Jesus asks his disciples, “Why are you afraid?”  If we trust that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ Jesus our Lord,[2]  then we don’t need to be afraid.

            In the midst of all the voices of fear, we are called to live fearlessly.  Not because the world isn’t scary.  Not because we are invincible.  Not because we don’t struggle with fear and anxiety.  But because we know we belong to God.

            This may sound simplistic to some, but placing our trust not in earthly treasures but in the treasures of God’s kingdom can be powerful and transformative.

            As Henri Nouwen wrote, “The more you feel safe as a child of God, the freer you will be to claim your mission in the world as a responsible human being.”

 Living fearlessly in faith can free our energy, our imaginations, our intelligence to live into the Kingdom.  It can open our hearts and empower us to embody God’s love in ways that the world so desperately needs.

            Over the years, the stock market and the value of our homes can go up and down. Governments rise and fall.  Corporations split and merge and restructure.  Possessions can be stolen or destroyed in fires or floods.  In faith communities, income rises and falls.  The political scene is full of scary scenarios.

But don’t worry.  Don’t be afraid.  God knows what we need, and it is God’s good pleasure to provide us with what we truly need.  

            So… may we learn how to relax…and not be so preoccupied with getting or hoarding or trying to be in control-- so we can respond in faith to God’s generosity.  May we learn to trust that God will provide what we truly need.   May we learn not to worry or be afraid, as we learn to trust that God is good—all the time. 

Do we believe this?  Do we believe that God is good and that God delights in giving us what we need?   Do we trust in it? 

            I pray that we do.  I pray that we can affirm our trust:  God is good. All the time. All the time, God is good!

            Thanks be to God!

      

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

November 18, 2018

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[1] Matthew 19:16-30; Mark 10:17-31; Luke 18:18-30.

[2] Romans 8:38-39

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[1] Matthew 19:16-30; Mark 10:17-31; Luke 18:18-30.

[2] Romans 8:38-39

"Don't Be Afraid. There Is Enough." A Sermon on the Widow's Mite from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

"Don't Be Afraid. There is Enough."

Mark 12:38-44; 1 Kings 17:7-16

            We don’t know this woman’s name.  We really don’t know anything about her, other than that she is an impoverished widow in first century Palestine, living on the margins of her society, with no safety net. No husband to protect or advocate for her.  No pension.  She’s part of a poor and vulnerable class of society. 

            So, don’t you wonder what it means to point to a destitute woman who gives her last two cents to the Temple?  Should we applaud her self sacrifice—or see her as naïve and impractical?

            Mark only uses this word for “widow” twice in his gospel, both times in the passage we just heard.  Unlike Luke, Mark doesn’t emphasize a mission to “the poor” in his narrative.

             The first time Mark mentions the poor is when a wealthy man comes to Jesus asking how he can inherit eternal life.[1]  Jesus responds: “Sell what you own and give the money to the poor.”  The man couldn’t do it.

            But this poor widow does just that. She gives it all.

            What do we do with this?  What does it mean?   Why would this poor widow give everything she had to live on?  Surely her small gift couldn’t make any difference to the Temple.   In ancient Israel, the “poor” were not required to give to the Temple.[2]  If they did give, they might have done so out of a sense of obligation… or a sense of hope.   We just don’t know.     

            Our gospel lesson today is framed by verses that show what Jesus thinks about what was going on in the Temple.  Jesus has visited the temple and cleansed it by driving out those who were selling   and tossing the tables of the moneychangers.  He quoted the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah to explain his prophetic action: “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’” But you have made it a den of robbers.”[3] 

            In today’s lesson, we heard Jesus teaching his disciples to “Beware of the scribes,” those religious leaders who like to walk around in their long robes.  Jesus said, “They like to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.”                           

            In the two parts of today’s lectionary passage, Mark offers us contrasting examples of discipleship.   These are teaching moments for Jesus as he calls his disciples to pay attention to the scribes, who “will receive the greater condemnation.”   Then Jesus points to the widow’s giving.

            This is one of the widows Jesus had just accused the scribes of abusing—offering her copper coins amidst the grand displays of generosity from the rest of the temple crowd.        

            The widow gives sacrificially—all she has to live on.  Her sacrifice is complete—so complete that Jesus wants his disciples to witness it.   “Truly,” Jesus says, “this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.  For all of them have contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

            That is why we know about her today, this nameless woman—because she gave all the little she had, holding nothing back.

            But don’t you wonder?  Are we really supposed to admire a poor woman who gave her last cent to a religious institution?   Was it right for her to surrender her living to those who lived better than she did?   By ordinary human standards, what this widow did makes no sense.  Is Jesus saying we should all follow her example?  What does Jesus want us to learn from her?      

            Did you notice?  Nowhere in this passage does Jesus praise the widow for what she is doing.  Nowhere in this story does he say, “Go, thou, all of you, and do likewise.”   He simply invites the disciples to contemplate the disparity between abundance and poverty, between large sums and two copper coins, between grand donations--and real sacrifice.   He doesn’t dismiss the gifts of the rich.  He simply points out that the poor widow turns out to be the major donor in the story.

            In Mark’s gospel, this is the last of Jesus’ lessons in the upside-down kingdom of God, where the last shall be first, and the great shall be the servants of all.   When Jesus leaves the Temple that day, his public ministry is over.  In four days, he will be dead, giving up the two copper coins of his life.  The widow withheld nothing from God. Neither did Jesus.    

            In the scriptures, there are recurring themes of abundance and of trusting in God to provide what we need.

            In the Exodus story, the people begin to complain, afraid that they won’t have enough provisions for the journey ahead of them.  God responds by sending them manna—white flakes of bread falling from heaven—just enough manna for today.  The people aren’t willing to trust that God would continue to provide, so they try to hoard their food for tomorrow.  But when they wake up the next morning, they find that the left-over manna has rotted overnight.  God was trying to teach them that hoarding and lack of trust deny God’s daily providing…and the predictable and faithful grace of God.

            In today’s lesson from the Hebrew scriptures, God tells Elijah to go to Zarephath, and that a widow there will feed him.  The widow is preparing to bake the last little bit of meal and oil into a last supper for her and her son—everything she had—and then they would die.  Elijah says to her, “Don’t be afraid.  Make me a little cake, and then make some for yourself and your son.  God promises you won’t run out of meal and oil as long as the drought lasts.”  And it was so.  There was enough.

           

            Jesus, the one who gave his all for the sake of the world, for the sake of all of us, calls us to follow him… and learn from him.  The gospel gives us clues about how to live joyful lives of freedom and trust. 

            Like the angels who keep showing up in the Bible, saying, “Don’t be afraid,” so Jesus uncovers our motives, those habits of the heart that keep us holding on tightly to things, to money, clinging to the things we think might keep us safe.  Then he invites us to care for the poor, and he offers us a new life of freedom from fear-- an abundant life of gratitude and trust.

           

            So how are we to love God?  With trust, instead of fear.  With gratitude, instead of demands.  With hope instead of despair. 

           

            How do we comprehend the poor widow’s offering in the Temple?  I think we can see it as a statement of radical trust.  She chooses not to play it safe.  Instead, she gives her love gift first, trusting in God to provide what she needs. 

            But how does this happen?  How could she give everything?

I wonder if she somehow has come to feel that she has enough, and that she will have enough.  I wonder if she has allowed herself to experience life as a blessing.  I wonder how this poor widow has come to trust in God as the one who blesses and provides—abundantly, predictably, faithfully. 

            I wonder if she has discovered something about the ultimate meaning of life-- that when we give, we are most like God.  Could it be that she has come to see that-- when we are lavish and gracious and generous-- we are most like our lavish and gracious and generous God. 

             

            How much do we love God?  How much do we trust God?  These are ongoing questions that we encounter on our journey of faith.  I don’t have any easy, pat anoswers for you today.  But not to keep asking the questions is to shut God out of some of the most intimate details of your living.

            Like many of you, I enjoy supporting charitable and social causes I think are important, causes that help me to live out the Christian values that shape my life.  But my main giving is focused on the church, in this local congregation, as well as some church-related missions. 

            There is something about putting a check into the offering plate as part of worship that gives focus to my life and to my faith.  It’s part of my spiritual discipline to write the check each week.  It’s part of my spiritual growth to increase my giving each year. 

            I believe that my giving is a witness to the gratitude I have for life…and the joy and freedom that I experience when I give my money to the church and to the causes that express my faith values.

            You and I have received commitment cards in the mail.  Sometime between now and next Sunday morning, I hope you will hold it and pray over it…and consider what level of commitment will help you to grow in your faith and trust in God… and then fill it out with joy and gratitude.  Then, I hope you will offer it with great joy during worship next Sunday.   

            How do we love God?  Let us count the ways.  And then let us respond with the offering of our very lives.

            Amen.

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

November 11, 2018

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[1] Mark 10:17-24

[2] Emerson Powerey, Commentary on Mark 12:38-44 at www.workingpreacher.org

[3] Mark 11:17

"Don't You Understand?" A Sermon on Mark 8:1-21 on World Communion Sunday

"Don't You Understand?"

Mark 8:1-21

         Does this story sound familiar?   Haven’t we heard this story before?

            Actually, we have.  In Mark chapter 6, we heard a story of a miraculous feeding of a multitude.  But this time some of the details are different.   A thousand fewer people.   Two more loaves of bread.  And five fewer baskets of left-overs.  

            Jesus looks around at the huge crowd that came to hear him and says to his disciples, “I’m really concerned for the people.  They’ve been with me for three days now, and they don’t have anything to eat.   If I send them home hungry, they’ll collapse on the way.  Some of them have come from miles away.”

            The disciples don’t sound like they’ve seen a crowd get fed miraculously as they answer:”” But Jesus, where could you get food for all these people, out here in the wilderness?” 

            The disciples have seen something like this before.  But everything that’s happening is so much bigger and so different from what they’d been expecting or hoping for that they apparently can’t take it all in. 

            Jesus tells the crowd to sit down.  He takes the seven loaves… gives thanks…breaks them…and gives them to the disciples to distribute.   The people in the crowd eat, and they’re satisfied.  Then they gather up seven baskets of left-overs before they send the people away. 

            Over the years, biblical scholars have tried to figure out why Mark tells this second feeding story, when the first one was more impressive, with 1,000 more people in the crowd?  Is he just telling us, “Jesus did it again”? 

            There are some interesting details in the two stories.  In the feeding story in chapter 6, Jesus told the 5,000 people to sit down, and they sat down on the green grass.  In the Galilee, grass grows quickly in the spring, but once the rains stop in May, it gets scorched by the fierce sun.  So, according to N.T. Wright, the earlier feeding took place around the time of the Jewish Passover.[1]   

            Some scholars have suggested that the twelve baskets of left-overs from the 5,000 people symbolize the twelve tribes of Israel, while the seven baskets of left-overs may represent his ministry to the wider Gentile world, with—in Jewish folklore—seventy nations.   The first feeding story took place on the predominately Jewish side of the lake, and today’s story, they’re on the predominately Gentile side.  

           According to William Placher, first-century readers, who were fascinated by number symbolism, would have read this passage and said, “This time Jesus is feeding Gentiles.[4]

            In the early church Mark was addressing, there was a major controversy about who was included and the relation of Jewish and Gentile Christians, so I think Mark is telling us in this story that Jesus came to feed Gentiles as well as Jews. 

            But there’s something else—a theme that becomes more pronounced in the next episode.  Even though the disciples had witnessed the feeding of 5,000 people, when Jesus told them they needed to feed the 4,000 people, it apparently didn’t occur to them to say, “You know, that thing you did to feed the crowd on the other side of the Sea of Galilee—could you do it again?”

            After they feed the 4,000 people and send them away, immediately Jesus gets into the boat with his disciples and they cross the lake, back to Jewish territory.  The Pharisees come and begin to argue with Jesus, asking him for a sign from heaven, because they want to test him. 

            So, Jesus and the disciples get back in the boat and cross to the other side.  Now the disciples had forgotten to bring any bread.  They had only one loaf with them in the boat, and they’re worried about the scarcity.

            Jesus cautions them, saying, “Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod.”  The disciples say to one another, “It’s because we don’t have any bread.”

            Jesus hears them and says, “Why are you talking about having no bread?  Do you still not perceive or understand?  Are your hearts hardened?  Do you have ears, and fail to hear?  And do you not remember?  When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?”  They said to him, “Twelve.” 

            “And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” And they said to him, “Seven.” 

            Then Jesus said to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

            For a lot of us, it is hard to understand.  We’re afraid we don’t have enough bread to share with those in need.    We worry we don’t have enough money.  We get confused by “the leaven of the Pharisees”—the message of those who want God to set up a kingdom that’s about observing the law with great strictness, rather than the kingdom of love and justice that includes all the people Jesus wants to include. 

            The kingdom of God is much wider and more gracious and inclusive than we might have imagined.

            Do we understand? 

            Listen to how Jan Richardson describes it in “And the Table Will Be Wide”:   

And the table will be wide.

And the welcome will be wide

And the arms will open wide to gather us in.

And our hearts will open wide to receive.

And we will come as children who trust there is enough.

And we will come unhindered and free.

And our aching will be met with bread.

And our sorrow will be met with wine.

And we will open our hands to the feast without shame.

And we will turn toward each other without fear.

And we will give up our appetite for despair.

And we will taste and know of delight.

And we will become bread for a hungering world.

And we will become drink for those who thirst.

And the blessed will become the blessing.

And everywhere will be the feast. [5]

May it be so!  Amen!

 

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

October 7, 2018

"Welcome Table." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Mark 7:24-37

"Even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." - Mark 7:24-37

"Welcome Table"

Mark 7:24-37; Proverbs 22:1-2, 9-9, 22-23; Isaiah 35:4-7a; James 2:1-10, 14-17

Let’s be honest. This passage is difficult. Disturbing.
            Can you the desperate, pleading look in this woman’s eyes? The yearning in her voice? Her desperation--that she would cross over barriers, seeking healing for her sick daughter?  She literally throws herself down at Jesus’ feet.  She risks her dignity…and risks being shamed—to enter a home where she isn’t wanted, to throw herself down in front of Jesus, who didn’t want to see her.
            And how does Jesus respond?  Not in the way we might have hoped.  This woman is literally begging for help for her daughter, and Jesus says, “Let the children be fed first, for it isn’t fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
            If Jesus' words trouble you, you're in good company.  Biblical scholars have struggled with this saying for centuries, but especially, I think, over the past few decades.
            In the parallel story in Matthew, Jesus doesn't even answer the woman.   When the disciples urge Jesus to send her away, Jesus says, "I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel."[1] 
`           It sounds like Jesus is dismissing and insulting this woman.  Now, a few commentators have tried to soften the effect. In their interpretation, Jesus was talking about feeding cute little puppies.  But that wouldn’t really be an accurate translation.
            One interpretation softens the story by saying Jesus isn’t really insulting the woman. He’s just testing her. She passes the test, and her daughter is healed.
            I think this story is troubling for a number of reasons.  It seems that Mark wants to be sure we know who this woman is.  He tells us, “the woman was a Greek, a Syrophoenician by descent.”  In other words, she’s not Jewish.
            Contrast how Jesus responds to this un-named Gentile woman with the named male, Jewish leader earlier in Mark.  Jesus went with Jairus and healed his daughter.  No problem. 
            But now Jesus is in Tyre, which is Gentile territory, when he says “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 
            I think Mark wants to make sure what a big deal it is when Jesus ultimately performs the miraculous healing. 
            So, what do we do with this story? 
            Some scholars believe that Jesus had a long-range evangelistic plan to go to the Jews first, and then later to the Gentiles.  In their thinking, Jesus isn't so much saying no--   as he’s saying, "First things first.  One thing at a time."
            But the language Jesus used!    "Dogs?"   From what I've read, it's a racist, derogatory term commonly used at the time by some Jews who wanted to put down gentiles.  A lot of people in that culture in Jesus' time thought this Gentile woman has no business being in the company of any Jew-- much less the Messiah. So, some scholars believe Jesus was giving voice to the traditional beliefs of the time as a test of the woman's faith, while some believe he was voicing those narrow beliefs to let her make the point that needed to be made.
           Jesus has been challenging a lot of the traditional religious beliefs and breaking through a lot of the barriers that separated people.

            Some scholars believe that this desperate, emboldened woman changed Jesus' mind about his mission and who he was called to save. I lean toward that understanding myself, as I remember the context.   In Mark’s narrative, this story is sandwiched in between the feeding of the five thousand and the feeding of the four thousand.  Is the bread of life that Jesus offers intended only for the children of Israel?  Or is there enough for everyone? 
            I know there are people who are troubled by the idea that Jesus would change his mind. I think we need to keep chewing on this for now.  Like Jacob at the River Jabbok—we need to keep wrestling with it until we receive a blessing. 
            Consider this: Maybe Jesus hasn’t quite fully realized the implications of his kingdom at this point. The religious tradition of his time was concerned with dichotomies of who’s in and who’s out, who’s worthy and who’s unworthy, who’s inside God’s salvation plan and who’s out.
            Maybe at this point, he really believes he has come for the Israelites--until he has this encounter with this Syrophoenician woman who tests him, stretches his imagination and reminds him that God’s kingdom includes all people-- Jews and Gentiles and Samaritans-- everyone.
            Could it be that God’s kingdom is so big, so gracious and wildly inclusive that it even takes Jesus a little while to really comprehend it?
            In any case, this woman doesn't back down.  I love the way one of my colleagues puts it:  "Dog indeed!  She keeps right on nipping at Jesus' heels."[2]   The woman dares to take his metaphor and turn it back on him.  Even on these terms, there still should be something from him-- some scrap of grace-- for someone like her, someone who comes to him in faith.   The woman seems to trust in the abundance Jesus keeps teaching about.  She seems to be challenging him to judge her by what's in her heart. 
            Where the religious establishment and their traditions could only see an outsider-- Jesus sees the woman's heart of faith, and her persistence, and he heals her child.  From this point on, Jesus continues to expand the circle of God's mercy to include those others consider outsiders.  He welcomes all who put their faith in him.  So, when you look at the big-picture story, it does look like Jesus changes his mind and his plan.
            That's good news for us.     We are all welcome.   We are all included in the circle of God’s mercy.   When Jesus opened himself up to mission to the whole world, it meant his church would be open to the world.  In response, as followers of Jesus, we are called to be open to those whom some people see as outsiders, outcasts, and sinners.  We are called to open ourselves to the whole world in mission.  
            So, what does all this mean for us today?      
            The Syrophoenician woman and the friends of the deaf and mute man refused to believe that God’s mercy and healing are limited to insiders and people like us.  They believed that Jesus could immediately meet their needs.  They embodied a faith that trusts in God’s goodness and abundance—a faith that pushes past legalism and exclusivity. 
            When we allow our ears and our hearts to be open—the Syrophoenician woman can teach us that, in God’s abundant economy, there is enough for everybody.  There is enough--if we reach out and share.
            As Jill Duffield points out, the lectionary texts for this Sunday are Christianity 101 or perhaps basic instructions for being a decent human being. Taken all together, Jill suggests a list of ten basics:

1. God created everyone. Every. Single. Person. We have that in common no matter our other myriad differences.
2. Integrity is more valuable than material wealth in the eyes of God. Therefore, always choose a good name over great riches. (Um, that might be a timely word, friends.)
3. The Lord pleads the case of the poor. Ergo, so should we.
4. Generosity is a blessing all around, for the giver and the receiver.
5. Don’t exploit the poor. (There are too many examples to list how the poor are exploited: title loans, cash bail, prison labor, subprime loans, higher prices on groceries in food deserts. The list is very, very long. Do a little digging into the policies and systems in your community, pick a few and hold them up in contrast to Christianity 101 this week.)
6. A person’s value does not equate to their monetary net worth. A person is valuable because, well, see number one on this list. God does not care how much or how little is in your bank account. See number two on this list.
7. Love your neighbor as yourself. Really. Not in theory, but in daily, tangible practice. See number 5 for more information.
8. Faith is visible to all. How we live reflects our deepest beliefs, revealing what and who we truly value. (Please don’t go to lunch after worship, clearly having been to church, and treat the server badly and leave a meagerly tip. Please, just don’t.)
9. When someone comes to you in pain and suffering, at the very least treat him with dignity, respect and kindness, even if you cannot do for him what he hopes you can do.
10. When someone comes to you in pain and suffering, do what you can do to alleviate her pain and suffering, no matter who she is, where she comes from or how that pain and suffering came to be.[3]

            The story about the Syrophoenician woman is a turning point in the gospel, as Jesus re-defines who is acceptable in God’s eyes. The healing in the gospels turns out to include stories about healing of divisions in our communities and society. Strangers are welcomed. Outsiders become part of the family of God. God’s law is the law of love-- the love in our hearts and the hospitality and compassion we live in our lives.
            My friends, this is GOOD NEWS!  So, like the people in the gospel story, may we be astounded and say, “He has done everything well!”
            As followers of Jesus, may we embody God’s abundant compassion, so that people will look at us. May they be astounded with us, and say, “They do everything well!
            So be it!   Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

September 9, 2018

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[1] Matthew 15:21-28.

[2] Heidi Husted, “When the Gospel Goes to the Dogs,” in Christian Century (Aug. 16, 2000)  https://www.christiancentury.org/article//when-gospel-goes-dogs

[3]  Jill Duffield, “Looking into the Lectionary.”   https://pres-outlook.org/category/ministry-resources/looking-into-the-lectionary/