Sunday, July 29, 2018

The Miracle of Enough (Sermon, with a story by Dr. Russell Mays)

“The Miracle of Enough”
John 6:1-14 
Allen Huff and Russel Mays
Jonesborough Presbyterian Church
7/29/18


After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. 2A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. 3Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples.
4Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. 5When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?”
6He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do.
7Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.”
8One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, 9“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?”
10Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all.11Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted.
12When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” 13So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets.
14When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”

         “Make the people sit down.” Jesus utters this seemingly innocuous line, but when rabbis teach, they sit while the people stand. I don’t know how that tradition began, but the purpose behind such arrangements usually has to do with creating a distinction that helps the listener to focus attention on the speaker. We still do that – in churches, classrooms, boardrooms, courtrooms, chambers of congress, rallies on courthouse steps.
         So, when Jesus, a first-century rabbi who has been teaching a crowd, says Make the people sit down, he’s doing more than inviting them to rest. His instruction signals that something’s about to happen. The crowd’s passive role is about to change to one of active participation.
         The story of the feeding of the 5000 is a miracle story. Our word miraclecomes from a word meaning an object of wonder. In the gospels, Jesus’ miracles are just that, objects of wonder that point toward the presence of God in the world, and specifically in Jesus. Many people associate miracles with supernatural events, things that people can’t do. And while I don’t deny that Jesus performed such wonders, it seems to me that limiting the miraculous to events which we can only observe and receive means missing a lot of God’s wonder in the world and in our own lives.
         If Jesus feeds 5000 people by creating something out of nothing, that’s pretty wonderful. But how does that transform us? What does it ask of us? If Jesus feeds 5000 people by creating a new sense of community, by creating a sense of abundance so that a group of human beings willingly combines gifts and resources theyalready have, then theyparticipate in the miracle. Feeding 5000 people this way is no less miraculous than by spontaneous generation, because, in absolute faith, Jesus does something revolutionary. He reveals that the prevailing economic mindset of scarcity is simply an attitude of self-centered fear. The kingdom of God is defined by abundance. The kingdom of God is defined by the Miracle ofEnough.
         The miracle of enough declares that whatever the need, we have enough at hand. Godreveals that by drawing out gratitude and generosity hidden within us. Such a miracle makes us not only more willing to share when we feel concerned for ourselves, but willing to receive when pride would prevent it. A clinched fist can neither give nor receive.
As a poet, storyteller, and life-long educator, Russell Mays listened to us talk about backpacks and a new school year. He knew we were talking about more than bags and report cards. We were talking about children and the well-being of our present and future community. Years ago, Russell wrote a story that invites us to stop, to sit down, and to be aware of children and the gifts that they are and the gifts that they have. When he offered to share this story, today seemed an appropriate opportunity to help us see what loaves and what fishes each of us has, and how we might open ourselves to God’s ongoing miracle of enough, and how, through faith in God’s abundance, enoughis truly all we need. 

The Answer
by Russel Mays
On Monday I went to the bench in the park where I had often gone to savor the sunshine and the birdsong as the finishing touch to my brown-bag lunch. This day; however, I found an old man in rumpled clothes and red high top shoes. It was early spring. The morning chill was still loitering among the bud-laden trees. He nodded silently, watching his whittling, as I seated myself beside him. He looks cold and hungry, I thought, and I have plenty more food at home. Perhaps I should give him my lunch. 
"Beautiful day!" I said, pointing upward at nothing in particular to avoid eye contact, fearing he would sense my pity. 
"Yes, it is!” he replied, "and each one is more wonderful than the last!"
Surprised by the happy and somewhat philosophical nature of his response, and fascinated by the sense of peace I heard in his voice, I courageously risked a glance. 
He had a broad smile and ruddy skin, but his eyes - his eyes shone with the same peace I had heard in his voice. "I-I'm not really h-hungry," I stammered, "had a big breakfast. Would you like my lunch? It's ham on rye." 
"Wouldn't think of taking your entire lunch, Sir,” he stated, "but I'd gladly share if you don't mind. I find a little lunch with a friend more filling that a whole lunch alone." 
"I'd be honored,” said I, and opened the sack. 
We ate, spoke of the coming of spring and parted with a handshake. All afternoon I felt unexplainably satisfied. 
I went to the bench in the park every day that week, and was disappointed not to find him there. I ate my lunch wondering where he might have come from and where he might be. 
The next Monday I was pleased to see him again, although I had forgotten the extra sandwich I promised myself I would bring. Again, we shared lunch, conversed about little things, and parted with a handshake. 
Our lunch meetings went on for several months - always on Monday; and while the single sandwich was always more than enough, the conversation became a rich dessert that gave my Mondays - indeed my entire week - a special happiness. 
At long last, I felt close enough, though he was still without a name - perhaps bold enough - to ask why he always seemed so serene and peaceful. He put down his whittling stick, turned, looked directly into my eyes and said, "I was granted the answer to a prayer, and I am satisfied with my life." 
"Can you share it with me?" I asked, not able to conceal my excitement. 
"You have been so kind," he said as he touched my shoulder, "in sharing your lunches and yourself, not out of pity, but as a friend - that I shall gladly share it with you." 
“I was an artist,” he said, “I dedicated my life to the pursuit of beauty. My heart burned to create, or at least to discover, the most precious and beautiful thing on earth. Twelve years ago there was an accident in which I was nearly killed. While in the hospital, I had a dream. In that dream I asked God to show me His most precious and beautiful creation before I died. In the dream, the answer to my wish was promised, but no great revelations seemed to come. I began to give up hope and eventually dismissed the dream and the answer as delirium.
"My health improved some, and my savings were exhausted. I have no family, so I was moved to the state health care center. It's a good place, comfortable, but lonely. When the school year began, I discovered that children passed by every morning and afternoon on their way to and from school. I had always loved to hear children laugh and play, so I made it my routine to be near the gate every day. 
"One day, for no apparent reason, a tiny, smiling, befreckled red-haired girl walked over and handed me a perfect white rose through the gate. She was missing two front teeth. The instant the white rose touched my hand, the long-forgotten dream flashed through my head. I had not recalled it for years. The next day, a tall, black boy wearing jeans and a red hat handed me another perfect, white rose. My next rose came from a child in a wheelchair. She was being helped by a friend. Her head was tilted to one side, but her smile was clear. Each day when I received the perfect, white rose, offered in silence by child after child after child; the dream thundered through my mind and heart, and I began to feel great peace. 
"I received hundreds of roses, each delivered by a different, smiling, wonderful child. I placed the roses in a tall can in my room - eventually in several tall cans. The flowers were strangely identical and flawless, and did not seem to wilt. The collection grew and grew until their fragrance filled the room! 
"This must be the answer to my prayer, I thought. The perfect white rose must be the most precious and beautiful of God's creations. I was puzzled. One night, as I lay down to sleep, I thanked God for answering my prayer and apologized for having given up so long ago, but I also asked, 'Why the white rose?' I wondered, why, with all the spectacular colors of the universe, all of the precious gems, and the enormity of the mountains; why would God choose the simple white rose as His most precious and beautiful creation? 
"Wondering, I fell to sleep, and as I slept, I dreamed. Once again I was talking with God. 'Did you see my precious beauties?' He asked. I did, but why did you choose the simple, perfect white rose? 
"'Look again,' He said gently, 'and treat them well.' Confused, I turned to see. There, in the petals of each rose, was the face of the child who had presented it to me - children of all nations, children of all colors, children of all faiths - smiling children, able children, and children in need. THEY are his most precious and beautiful creations! At last, I understood!" 
He stood, wiping a tear from his eye, and thanked me once again for sharing my lunches and my self. Shaking my hand more firmly than usual, he walked away. 
I have never seen the old man again. 
Today is a special day - it is early spring, and a Monday. Today I’m having lunch in the park with my wife and our newborn child; and the park seems filled with the fragrance of roses. If you listen, you can hear the wind whisper, "They are my most precious and beautiful creations - treat them well." ©1997 Russell Mays

With the exception of the Resurrection, the feeding of the 5000 is the only miracle story that appears in all four gospels. And John says it was a child who had the five loaves and two fish. It was a child’s generosity through which Jesus revealed his faith in the ongoing miracle of enough to a hillside full of people. What he revealed is his miracle-inducing faith in us. When we are humble enough to be grateful and generous enough, then through God’s miracle of enough, there is more than enough!
Jonesborough Presbyterian is already very generous, and I thank each of you for that. As our faith in the miracle of enough empowers us and emboldens us, what else might we do as individuals and as a congregation?
Jesus invites us to sit down, take a risk, and find out.

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