Building a New Way
Sunday, November 17, 9:15 AM & 11:15 AM Rev. Bill Sinkford
Story for All Ages: Inspired by the story, No Less a Miracle, by Rev. Barbara Fast
Some of you know the story I want to share. It is about how Jesus fed thousands of people with just a few loaves of bread. It was a miracle. That’s the way it is told in the Bible.
UU minister Barbara Fast tells a different version, in the voice of a mother and her son who travelled to hear Jesus on that hillside long ago. The story is called “No Less a Miracle.”
The afternoon was growing cold. From the hillside, I could make out the slate grey Sea of Galilee.
Why had I allowed my son Benjamin to drag us here?
It’s been three days and we are still waiting to see a miracle.
It is not as if we can waste the days. We manage to feed and clothe ourselves, but not much more.
The crowds have become so large – thousands.
People are whispering that he is a Messiah! Ben has heard him speak, but he is a child and not so reliable a witness.
People are grumbling about their stomachs. What little food people had carried with them, they have eaten by now.
I have a few loaves left….but….
Well, we thank God at home – but I am not so sure God has much to do with my putting a meal on the table, or making cloth for my son’s broadening shoulders.
Ben runs up. Breathless he tells me that Jesus wants us to give him whatever food we still have, so that he can share it with the crowd.
Benjamin smiles at me and asks, “Where is the bread, Mom?.”
He asks it so loudly I am embarrassed. People turn in our direction.
“What bread?” I reply.
“You know mom. The bread that you brought… You know!”
What am I supposed to do? If I give the bread to him there will
be none left for our trip home.
If I let on that I have food, well…. it will be gone as soon as I turn my back. These people are just like my neighbors.
But.. .if I lie to him? I don’t want to lose my son.
It is all so easy for this Jesus to talk about loving your neighbor- but my life is not like that. Trusting one’s neighbor. Well, It all depends on what for, and who.
”Come on, Mom!” Ben drags me forward.
Here, the crowd is thinner. Before me, at a small distance, is this prophet. I can hear his voice.
How much bread have they collected from all these thousands?
I can see that he has received a few loaves of bread and four, yes, my god! – only four fishes.
Pretty old ones at that.
Still, he does not seem disappointed. He seems grateful.
Maybe he will perform a miracle! This is what I have come for! What we all hope for.
I’d heard that he made water into wine for his cousin’s wedding….
A miracle. That is what we need.
Before I can leave, he asks all of us to sit down and we grow quiet.
He is blessing this little food. He is offering thanks to God. I can feel his gratefulness.
And then…
He breaks the bread and gives it to those who come forward.
No miracle after all. No feast.
And then…
I don’t know how to say this…
He is standing in front of me.
He touches my son’s head.
He gives me a piece of bread.
I raised my eyes and met his eyes…
I saw myself through his eyes …
I don’t know what else to tell you.
I just felt OK.
I mean…whole.
Good enough.
He loves me. He knew I was hiding those loaves of bread.
And He loves me anyway.
He gave me this large broken piece of bread, about ¼ of the loaf and invited me to eat it.
He didn’t tell me to share that bread. And then he went on to the next person, sharing all that he had.
I felt the loaves inside my cloak.
I reached in- I gave Ben three of them and sent him running to give them to others.
I turned round and started to break another into pieces for those behind me.
I met the eyes of one of them. I saw him in all his brokenness and his hope.
Like me.
His hand was inside his shirt. I thought he was pulling it out of his shirt to reach for a piece of my bread, but he brought out two big rounds of flatbread he too had hidden away.
Like me.
He gestured that I should go on and share mine with others. And I saw him turn round to break bread with those behind him.
It seemed that it was the breath of God and not a cold breeze that rustled over us as we shared what we had been so carefully hiding from each other.
Ben sat beside me as we ate and shared our stories.
The story will say that everyone was fed and that there was food left over. And that is true.
You ask me: Was there a miracle?
I can’t speak for anyone else. But I will tell you this, I will hold onto that miracle all the days of my life.
Reprise Building a New Way
Homily: Each of Us and All of Us:
The miracle was not about the bread.
“We can feed our every need. Start with love. That is the seed.”
The miracle was not about the bread. The miracle was that those folks looked at one another…and they felt themselves seen…
They looked at one another and felt seen…for all that they were…not perfect…no, no…perfect is the wrong standard…as a standard, perfection is a trap…because it can never be achieved…and who gets to define what perfection looks like anyway…perfect takes us down the wrong path.
They saw each other’s hope and each other’s brokenness…that’s what the story says…But too much of a focus on the brokenness is a trap as well. Because it directs our attention to what we lack, what we don’t have, where we have been compromised and diminished…rather than directing our attention to the power that we have and the ways we have been strengthened, supported, built up.
We need to be able to see the brokenness but not let it fill our field of vision. The danger is that the brokenness will obscure our wholeness and our power.
On that hillside they saw themselves through that prophet’s eyes… through love’s eyes…and felt good enough…felt whole…that is what the story says…they felt whole…they felt loved.
And as that prophet shared what little food he had, love’s generosity called forth generosity from each of them and all of them…and the sharing of resources, and the pooling of strength…so that that large community discovered that they already had what they needed…to sustain hope. They already had it. In abundance. There was bread left over. They had what they needed in abundance.
That mother wasn’t sure why she had allowed herself to be dragged out to that hillside by her son. She wasn’t sure.
And sometimes, we may not be sure why we come to this church. Why we get up on Sunday morning and brush our teeth and head to 12th and Main. When its rainy. Or when it’s sunny.
Sometimes you may not be sure what draws you here.
Sometimes it is the singing that draws us…we discover that we just need to sing…in this community. We discover that lifting our voices is what we need and why we come. Or sometimes, for some of us, it is just listening to the music.
Sometimes we discover that we need to be reminded of what we care about…to reset our moral compass.
Or to be reminded about our gifts and strengths. Sometimes we need to remember our power.
And sometimes we just need to weep…in a sanctuary where tears and laughter, song and silence conspire to convince us…once again…that we are good enough…that we are lovable and already loved.
That we are loved.
That is what we do here…or try to…I think that is what Beloved Community looks like…
For more and more of us to go against the culture enough…to be naïve enough…to swim upstream enough… to be radical enough…
To trust that we are loved…all of us. To trust that we are loved. And therefore that we can love.
And it takes each of us and all of us…our gifts and talents…and our financial gifts as well…each of us and all of us…to keep this house a place where love lives…so that that miracle can be here for each of us and all of us.
The message of the loaves and fishes story…and the message at the heart of this congregation…is that when we share our gifts and talents…and when we truly see one another…we can cease living in scarcity…and we can put our self doubt on hold…and live into a hope that can see us through.
And that is more than miracle enough and more than reason enough to celebrate.
We have pledge beads to share and to wear. And music to move our spirits and our bodies as well.
Let the music begin.
Topics: Death
Topics: Death