Abundant Bread
Preached by Pastor Matt Braddock
They found him on the other side of
the lake and asked, “Rabbi, when did you get here?” Jesus replied, “I
tell you the truth, you want to be with me because I fed you, not
because you understood the miraculous signs. But don’t be so concerned
about perishable things like food. Spend your energy seeking the eternal
life that the Son of Man can give you. For God the Father has given me
the seal of his approval.” They replied, “We want to perform God’s
works, too. What should we do?” Jesus told them, “This is the only work
God wants from you: Believe in the one he has sent.” They answered,
“Show us a miraculous sign if you want us to believe in you. What can
you do? After all, our ancestors ate manna while they journeyed through
the wilderness! The Scriptures say, ‘Moses gave them bread from heaven
to eat.’” Jesus said, “I tell you the truth, Moses didn’t give you bread
from heaven. My Father did. And now he offers you the true bread from
heaven. The true bread of God is the one who comes down from heaven and
gives life to the world.” “Sir,” they said, “give us that bread every
day.” Jesus replied, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will
never be hungry again. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.
John 6:25-35
Thousands
of people were out on the hillside where Jesus taught them. Now they
are hungry. The closest followers of Jesus approach. “Jesus, people are
really hungry, and all we can find to eat is a kid’s lunch with some
bread and a few fish. How are you going to feed the people?”
Jesus says, “I’m not going to feed them. You are!”
Now the disciples face an overwhelming task: feed the masses with no apparent resources at all. Looking out on a landscape of scarcity, they don’t know what to do. They don’t have the means to feed these people. Someone suggests they send people away to the surrounding villages to find food. When things are tight it usually seems like it’s everyone for themselves.
But Jesus says, “No, you give them something to eat.” He shows the disciples how to put the people into groups seated on the grass. The answer to scarcity begins in breaking down the walls that keep us apart, giving people the chance to come out of their isolation and to connect with each other.
Then Jesus shows the disciples how to gather up what food they have. He takes five loaves and two fish, blesses and breaks them, and gives them to the disciples to spread among the people. Everyone eats. Everyone is full. Everyone has enough. A world of scarcity gives way to a world of abundance.
Some call it a supernatural miracle of multiplication of food. I think it’s a miracle of generosity erupting in their lives. Hearing Jesus teach all afternoon about a God who loves each of them and calls them by name, the people duplicate what they now see the disciples doing. They get into small groups bring out morsels of food they carried to get them through the day. They no longer feel the need to hide and protect what they brought just for themselves. They offer what they have. a morsel here, a piece there, a remnant here and a drop there, until all are fed … until all have enough. Bread is no longer a scarce resource to be hoarded. Bread is a gift from God to be shared and eaten together. A world of scarcity becomes a world of abundance.
This isn’t just an abstract sort of moral lesson – The fear of running out affects the way we live and the way we do ministry together. There’s never enough. That’s the message we hear and believe every day. We can so easily stumble into the trap of comparing the little we have to the size of the problems around us and giving up, or assuming whatever we do will be good, but not enough. But a shared morsel here, a piece there, a remnant here and a drop there, is enough.
The pavement swarmed with onlookers, cordoned off by soldiers and police. Thousands of Russians gathered to witness a procession of 20,000 German war prisoners through Moscow’s streets — German soldiers, heads down, thin and unshaven, wearing dirty, blood-stained bandages, hobbling on crutches or leaning on the shoulders of companions. The street became silent, except for the sound of shuffling boots and the thumping of crutches. The onlooking crowd was mostly Russian women with hands roughened by hard work and with thin hunched shoulders which had borne half of the burden of the war. Every one of them must have had a father or a husband, a brother or a son killed by the Germans. They gazed with disgust at the generals who marched in front, massive chins stuck out, lips folded disdainfully, their whole demeanor meant to show superiority over their enemies. The women clenched their fists. The soldiers and police had all they could do to hold them back. But then something happened to the crowd. An elderly woman in broken-down boots pushed herself forward and touched a policeman’s shoulder saying, “Let me through.” There must have been something about her that made him step aside. She went up to the prisoners and took a crust of black bread from inside her coat. She pushed it awkwardly into the pocket of a soldier, so exhausted that he was tottering on his feet. Then, from every side, women ran toward the soldiers, pushing into their hands bread, cigarettes, whatever they had. The soldiers were no longer enemies. They were people. And that’s how revolutions of compassion are born. In the bleakest moment, someone starts to recreate a miracle of generosity — the same miracle Jesus showed his disciples how to start centuries ago. Someone shares her bread with another who is supposed to be the enemy. Then, one by one, a parade of the oppressed becomes a march of compassion. The answer to scarcity begins in breaking down the walls that keep us apart, giving people the chance to abandon isolation and to connect with each other.
That’s what the church is supposed to be. At CCC we provide a morsel of healing for the brokenhearted, a piece of rest for the weary of spirit, a remnant of comfort for the suffering, a drop of courage for the fearful. Here we remember and celebrate that life has beauty and joy, meaning and purpose. We do not ever face the task alone. We know that we are stronger together, better together. We have a secret operation: a counterinsurgency of community.
The powers and principalities of this present age want us to isolate and divide us so we betray, fight, and kill. They want us to enemies and then parade them in the middle-of-the-road, hoping we will unite in our feelings of common anger and victimhood. They want us to believe that our meager individual offerings will never be enough to solve the problems around us, so we shouldn’t even bother to help. The best we can do is protect our resources, hoard them for ourselves, and take care of me and mine. I hate to admit it, but that message has slipped into churches. I see it all over, and unfortunately we at CCC are not immune.
Imagine this situation. Sometimes at church, some people get upset because they feel like they do all the work while others do nothing but get all the benefits. “I’m sharing my bread here, meanwhile others are coming all the time and they are not sharing any of theirs. I know they have bread to share, but they come here and just take and eat without ever giving anything back. It doesn’t seem fair.” Fair enough. We do want people to contribute their fair share. When everyone shares a little of their lunch, there is enough for all. No one goes hungry. However, think that way for too long, and resentment builds. The challenge here is not about fairness. It’s that we forget our gifts and resources are not ours. They belong to God.
In the village where I served my first church, there was an Assemblies of God pastor and his wife who ran a clothing room in a small storefront near the post office. They supplied a much-needed service to a farming community many migrant families who worked the agricultural fields in the growing and harvesting months. One day as I walked by, Pastor Ed had a huge delivery of oranges in his shop. I’m talking wall-to-wall oranges. Pastor Ed beckoned me inside. “Pastor Matt, would you and your family like some oranges?” As a stoic New Englander, I had an instant running dialogue in my head: “I shouldn’t take handouts. I did not earn those oranges. I have not shared anything in return. Certainly, there are people more in need than my family.” Then I asked out loud, “Ed, aren’t these for people in need? I don’t need oranges. I can go buy some and save these for people who are hungry.” Thrusting a box at me with a jubilant smile, Pastor Ed said, “Take them. God supplied these oranges. And God told me to give them away, no questions asked!” That was his whole philosophy. He did not own any of those oranges, so it was not up to him to decide who was worthy to receive. There was enough for all. No questions asked. I try to keep that in mind when I start feeling resentful because I think I’m contributing more than others. My job is to share God’s abundance in proportion to what I’ve received.
Taking more than what we need is also a problem. The Bible storytellers were consistently vexed by this. They told us about how God punished people who took extra for themselves at the expense of others. In our second reading, Jesus teaches about the Bread of Life and the Manna in the Wilderness. If you are not familiar with that story, when the people of Israel wandered in the desert for 40 years with Moses, God promised to feed the people every day. Each morning, a bread like substance called manna would fall to the ground. Each family could gather as much manna as they needed for the day. But manna was only good for one day. If you wanted to store it all up and stockpile your manna, you’d be sorry. By the next day, manna went rancid and become full of maggots. The only exception was the Sabbath. In preparation, a family could gather two-days-worth to honor the day of rest. The temptation is that when life feels like a desert and we want to hoard our resources, we forget that what we need is already here. When we cannot trust each other, then our tomorrows turn to worms.
We learn to trust that each of us will give and gather according to our need. When we feed and nurture out of our abundance, sharing our DAILY bread, we have enough.
Jesus can show us how to do miracles with whatever bread we are willing to give. Of course, all of us could do more if we had more. You could serve God in great ways if you won a million dollars in the lottery. If we had a bigger congregation, or a better building, or a bigger endowment, or any of a whole list of things we could come up with, we could do more ministry. But God does not need more from us than we have. The gifts you have are enough. You are enough.
In a few minutes, we will invite you to come to the communion table, the community table, where there is enough for everyone. Here we remember that our divisions vanish. Take a piece of bread and a dip it in some juice, and get the smallest taste of the abundant, everlasting feast to come. Come and be fed by the One who Bread of Life. No one has to be hungry or thirsty again, but it only when we recreate the miracle of gratitude, sharing a morsel here, a piece there, a remnant here and a drop there, until all are fed … until all have enough.
Sources:
Jesus says, “I’m not going to feed them. You are!”
Now the disciples face an overwhelming task: feed the masses with no apparent resources at all. Looking out on a landscape of scarcity, they don’t know what to do. They don’t have the means to feed these people. Someone suggests they send people away to the surrounding villages to find food. When things are tight it usually seems like it’s everyone for themselves.
But Jesus says, “No, you give them something to eat.” He shows the disciples how to put the people into groups seated on the grass. The answer to scarcity begins in breaking down the walls that keep us apart, giving people the chance to come out of their isolation and to connect with each other.
Then Jesus shows the disciples how to gather up what food they have. He takes five loaves and two fish, blesses and breaks them, and gives them to the disciples to spread among the people. Everyone eats. Everyone is full. Everyone has enough. A world of scarcity gives way to a world of abundance.
Some call it a supernatural miracle of multiplication of food. I think it’s a miracle of generosity erupting in their lives. Hearing Jesus teach all afternoon about a God who loves each of them and calls them by name, the people duplicate what they now see the disciples doing. They get into small groups bring out morsels of food they carried to get them through the day. They no longer feel the need to hide and protect what they brought just for themselves. They offer what they have. a morsel here, a piece there, a remnant here and a drop there, until all are fed … until all have enough. Bread is no longer a scarce resource to be hoarded. Bread is a gift from God to be shared and eaten together. A world of scarcity becomes a world of abundance.
This isn’t just an abstract sort of moral lesson – The fear of running out affects the way we live and the way we do ministry together. There’s never enough. That’s the message we hear and believe every day. We can so easily stumble into the trap of comparing the little we have to the size of the problems around us and giving up, or assuming whatever we do will be good, but not enough. But a shared morsel here, a piece there, a remnant here and a drop there, is enough.
The pavement swarmed with onlookers, cordoned off by soldiers and police. Thousands of Russians gathered to witness a procession of 20,000 German war prisoners through Moscow’s streets — German soldiers, heads down, thin and unshaven, wearing dirty, blood-stained bandages, hobbling on crutches or leaning on the shoulders of companions. The street became silent, except for the sound of shuffling boots and the thumping of crutches. The onlooking crowd was mostly Russian women with hands roughened by hard work and with thin hunched shoulders which had borne half of the burden of the war. Every one of them must have had a father or a husband, a brother or a son killed by the Germans. They gazed with disgust at the generals who marched in front, massive chins stuck out, lips folded disdainfully, their whole demeanor meant to show superiority over their enemies. The women clenched their fists. The soldiers and police had all they could do to hold them back. But then something happened to the crowd. An elderly woman in broken-down boots pushed herself forward and touched a policeman’s shoulder saying, “Let me through.” There must have been something about her that made him step aside. She went up to the prisoners and took a crust of black bread from inside her coat. She pushed it awkwardly into the pocket of a soldier, so exhausted that he was tottering on his feet. Then, from every side, women ran toward the soldiers, pushing into their hands bread, cigarettes, whatever they had. The soldiers were no longer enemies. They were people. And that’s how revolutions of compassion are born. In the bleakest moment, someone starts to recreate a miracle of generosity — the same miracle Jesus showed his disciples how to start centuries ago. Someone shares her bread with another who is supposed to be the enemy. Then, one by one, a parade of the oppressed becomes a march of compassion. The answer to scarcity begins in breaking down the walls that keep us apart, giving people the chance to abandon isolation and to connect with each other.
That’s what the church is supposed to be. At CCC we provide a morsel of healing for the brokenhearted, a piece of rest for the weary of spirit, a remnant of comfort for the suffering, a drop of courage for the fearful. Here we remember and celebrate that life has beauty and joy, meaning and purpose. We do not ever face the task alone. We know that we are stronger together, better together. We have a secret operation: a counterinsurgency of community.
The powers and principalities of this present age want us to isolate and divide us so we betray, fight, and kill. They want us to enemies and then parade them in the middle-of-the-road, hoping we will unite in our feelings of common anger and victimhood. They want us to believe that our meager individual offerings will never be enough to solve the problems around us, so we shouldn’t even bother to help. The best we can do is protect our resources, hoard them for ourselves, and take care of me and mine. I hate to admit it, but that message has slipped into churches. I see it all over, and unfortunately we at CCC are not immune.
Imagine this situation. Sometimes at church, some people get upset because they feel like they do all the work while others do nothing but get all the benefits. “I’m sharing my bread here, meanwhile others are coming all the time and they are not sharing any of theirs. I know they have bread to share, but they come here and just take and eat without ever giving anything back. It doesn’t seem fair.” Fair enough. We do want people to contribute their fair share. When everyone shares a little of their lunch, there is enough for all. No one goes hungry. However, think that way for too long, and resentment builds. The challenge here is not about fairness. It’s that we forget our gifts and resources are not ours. They belong to God.
In the village where I served my first church, there was an Assemblies of God pastor and his wife who ran a clothing room in a small storefront near the post office. They supplied a much-needed service to a farming community many migrant families who worked the agricultural fields in the growing and harvesting months. One day as I walked by, Pastor Ed had a huge delivery of oranges in his shop. I’m talking wall-to-wall oranges. Pastor Ed beckoned me inside. “Pastor Matt, would you and your family like some oranges?” As a stoic New Englander, I had an instant running dialogue in my head: “I shouldn’t take handouts. I did not earn those oranges. I have not shared anything in return. Certainly, there are people more in need than my family.” Then I asked out loud, “Ed, aren’t these for people in need? I don’t need oranges. I can go buy some and save these for people who are hungry.” Thrusting a box at me with a jubilant smile, Pastor Ed said, “Take them. God supplied these oranges. And God told me to give them away, no questions asked!” That was his whole philosophy. He did not own any of those oranges, so it was not up to him to decide who was worthy to receive. There was enough for all. No questions asked. I try to keep that in mind when I start feeling resentful because I think I’m contributing more than others. My job is to share God’s abundance in proportion to what I’ve received.
Taking more than what we need is also a problem. The Bible storytellers were consistently vexed by this. They told us about how God punished people who took extra for themselves at the expense of others. In our second reading, Jesus teaches about the Bread of Life and the Manna in the Wilderness. If you are not familiar with that story, when the people of Israel wandered in the desert for 40 years with Moses, God promised to feed the people every day. Each morning, a bread like substance called manna would fall to the ground. Each family could gather as much manna as they needed for the day. But manna was only good for one day. If you wanted to store it all up and stockpile your manna, you’d be sorry. By the next day, manna went rancid and become full of maggots. The only exception was the Sabbath. In preparation, a family could gather two-days-worth to honor the day of rest. The temptation is that when life feels like a desert and we want to hoard our resources, we forget that what we need is already here. When we cannot trust each other, then our tomorrows turn to worms.
We learn to trust that each of us will give and gather according to our need. When we feed and nurture out of our abundance, sharing our DAILY bread, we have enough.
Jesus can show us how to do miracles with whatever bread we are willing to give. Of course, all of us could do more if we had more. You could serve God in great ways if you won a million dollars in the lottery. If we had a bigger congregation, or a better building, or a bigger endowment, or any of a whole list of things we could come up with, we could do more ministry. But God does not need more from us than we have. The gifts you have are enough. You are enough.
In a few minutes, we will invite you to come to the communion table, the community table, where there is enough for everyone. Here we remember that our divisions vanish. Take a piece of bread and a dip it in some juice, and get the smallest taste of the abundant, everlasting feast to come. Come and be fed by the One who Bread of Life. No one has to be hungry or thirsty again, but it only when we recreate the miracle of gratitude, sharing a morsel here, a piece there, a remnant here and a drop there, until all are fed … until all have enough.
