Resurrection:Sharing the Bread, May 20, 2012

RESURRECTION: SHARING THE BREAD

John 21:9-17

Matthew 25: 31-40

St. Andrew’s-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

May 20, 2012

            Today was supposed to be an easy preach -- what could be more straightforward than a sermon entitled “Sharing the Bread!”?  Get out there, feed the hungry, fix the world.  I carefully chose a couple of scripture readings that fit well – one with the resurrected Jesus telling his disciples to feed the sheep, and another that was all about caring for the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick, the imprisoned.  I was planning to connect with the work we have done as a congregation on compassion, particularly the book study groups that worked through Karen Armstrong’s Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life.  Classic social gospel!  Justice – and “What part of sharing the bread don’t you get?”  [a line that came from the Time with the Children]

            This past week a member of the congregation sent me an article on Child Poverty… disturbing bedtime reading, let me tell you.   And I thought – this would be just perfect for the sermon!!   Did you know that of the twenty members of the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, Canada ranks near the bottom when addressing child poverty – there are only four countries that are doing a worse job than we are; we’re # 16 – which is not the kind of thing you want an international reputation for.  We’re talking about kids living in poverty; our kids.  And then, get this… B.C. is at the bottom of the heap when it comes to levels of child poverty in Canada; statistically the worst province to live in if you’re a child; and we’ve held that position for at least seven years!  Which just slays me – we are a rich province in a rich country… what part about sharing the bread don’t we get?

            Or maybe, I thought to myself, I could talk once again about my sabbatical time, still so fresh in my mind, and offer a sermon, well, a passionate diatribe actually, about what is happening over in Israel and Palestine, so full of walls and worries; not a lot of bread being shared over there.   But then I was trouble, realizing that this could easily become a scolding sermon, making us all feel bad and defensive.  Just what you needed on a rainy Sunday… one more burden; one more task.  So, I wondered about simply waving our Announcement Bulletin, and talking about how in this congregation we are, in fact, trying to share the bread… with sex trade workers at WISH and BoysRUs; or in listening circles, with First Nations peoples; or with people living with mental illness, the homeless, the folk who call First United home; or with people in Guatemala.  |This week’s bulletin has invitations to  participate in the Missing Women’s Inquiry, or sign up for a workshop on the Practice of Restraint for Abundant Living, attend a film and workshop on the Kamloops Residential School.

            Well, I was feeling good about the sermon when I went for a walk on the seawall yesterday.  Beautiful day… all of Vancouver out, basking in the sun.  Smiling, happy… though you took your life in your hands when you had to cross the bike lane, so many cyclists and inline skaters.  The tide was half out; a bit of a breeze was blowing…; I found myself a bench, a place of inspiration… an opportunity to do a little more finishing work for Sunday.  But oh now… I should have known better… because that’s when the sermon jumped off track and started heading off in a new direction. 

It happened when I began to let my imagination drift… moving from the beach right in front of me, back in time, to the encounter between Jesus and the disciples on the Sea of Galilee.  You see, I was there… I mean, two months ago, when I was in Israel…. at the beach where supposedly the risen Jesus appeared one final time to his friends… the ones who had gone fishing.  There was a small church to mark the spot… simple; domed, with black basalt bricks that blended into the dark pebbled beach.  It was a place where busloads of tourists came, but because there was so little there, they didn’t stay long… stuck their heads inside the church, raced down to the water, snapped a few pictures, … then left.  It meant that with a little patience you could find yourself alone.  There was a bit of a wind, whipping up the waves; cloudy, but with splashes of sunshine spilling onto the water; it wasn’t hard to feel contemplative, even prayerful.

And suddenly, on a Saturday afternoon, in Vancouver, it was as if I could smell the beach campfire, could see the huddle of disciples around Jesus, could eavesdrop on the conversation between Jesus and Peter.  Which was just fine, I thought, thinking about Jesus telling Peter over and over to go feed the sheep, take care of the flock.  But in my enthusiasm to talk about sharing the bread, I had actually missed the beginning of the story… which started not with marching orders, but with a question.  Which seems so typical of God… always getting in our faces with questions, close up and personal.  “Do you love me?”  --  that’s the question that Jesus asks Peter; three times, in fact.    “Do you love me more than these?” Jesus asks, and we’re never sure quite what “these” refers to… was Jesus gesturing towards the boats and nets and the pile of fish… do you love me more than making a living, making a profit, getting ahead in the world?  Or maybe Jesus meant, do you love me more than your circle of friends, your brother, your place in the community ?  Or maybe he meant the whole kit and caboodle… everything… the boats, the family, the lake, the world… your life… do you love me more than anything and everything else?

            Quite the question, isn’t it.  Do you love me?  You can feel the tension in the story… three times Jesus asks the question, and sure… it’s a way of highlighting and reversing the three-fold denial that Peter offered the morning of Good Friday, at the trial.  His “I do not know the man!” now becomes a soft, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”  But it’s more than that.  John really wants us to think about loving Jesus, because that’s the question we need to sit with,.  John keeps changing the verbs that he uses, trying to nuance the question, taking it deeper….   Are my friend?  Do you trust me?  Are you committed to me, my values, my way of living?  Will you bank your life on me, and the God I embody?  Will you join your life with mine… for better for worse?  Are you head over heels in love with me, with God, with the life that I offer?  Do you love me?

            It’s only after Peter answers this question that Jesus sends him into action, with a threefold, “Sheep my sheep” and “Tend the flock.”  Peter is commanded to do the work of compassion precisely because of his love for Jesus.  Which changes everything about the command, doesn’t it?  You feed the sheep because you love Jesus, not because of duty, law, obligation, liberalism, because you’re supposed to; you share the bread because you are in love. 

But what does it mean to love Jesus?  I mean, easy to say; but what does it look like?  Well, to begin with, when I love someone, I want to know more about them – “Tell me your stories,” I ask; “Let me know what you’re thinking; what’s important to you?  Who’s important to you?”   Which is why we turn to the gospels… four different collections of stories about Jesus.  I’m beginning to think of those gospels as ancient blogs… no, I’m not just trying to fake “cool.”  Read them… not really a structured, linear narrative from day one to the end of Jesus’ life, a well-written biography,  but rather, highlights, impressions, interpretations, interactions… things that the writers think it’s important for other people to know, to remember. 

The more you read the blogs of Matthew and Mark and Luke and John, the more you understand just how down to earth this Jesus was.  Love your neighbour; love your enemy; forgive each other; be like the Good Samaritan; share the bread; welcome children; heal the sick; be peacemakers; give away your money.  Jesus refuses to spiritualize the faith; what he offers instead is a way of living in the world.  And so you begin to discover that to love Jesus is to be shaped by his teachings, his instructions – to start following in his way. 

            Keep reading those gospel blogs, though, and you discover that Jesus is more than the sum of his teachings…. he’s a kingdom of God guy.  That’s what he’s really talking about… the in-breaking  wonder of the Kingdom of God… which is his Biblical shorthand for “thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” – a time of peace and justice and righteousness; of challenge and mercy and grace; of compassion and inclusion and laughter.  And Jesus claims that it is already happening… here, there… in moments, in specific actions.  It’s almost as if we need to keep a sharp watch, to discover where God is at work, where the kingdom is suddenly being realized, embodied… in time, in this world… until, “Holy, and shining with a great light,  is every living thing, established in this world and covered with time, until your name is praised forever.”  That’s how Leonard Cohen describes it… remember our call to worship?

So then… feeding the sheep, sharing the bread… this is not just a command to do a good deed, not just an invitation to engage in random acts of kindness, but rather a decision to be part of a movement, to align oneself with the flow of God’s energy – to echo the words of St. Francis… “Make me a channel of your love.”  To love Jesus is to become part of the kingdom movement – to trust that this is a possibility, a vision worth living for, an engagement of your whole life.  You are not simply passing the time, accumulating a lot of stuff, having a good time… and, here and there, being kind to people… a nice neighbour…. No, when you say you love Jesus, it means that you are crossing the line, to stand on his side, following his way… working with God’s energy and Spirit to reconstitute the world.

            But you know, sitting on that beach, dreaming of the Sea of Galilee, and overhearing Jesus, and wondering if I have the courage and conviction to say with Peter, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you….” – I realize that I am hungry for encounter.  If you love someone, you want to be connected, to touch, to be embraced,  spend time with.  And I think that’s part of the power of the resurrection stories… sure, they’re strange, full of confusing details… but what they are trying to say is that it is still possible to encounter this Jesus… spirit, resurrected, raised to new life…. and thus to encounter God.  This is where it’s important to connect back to the gospel reading from Matthew, where Jesus claims that inasmuch as we feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, visit the sick and the imprisoned… inasmuch as we share the bread in every possible meaning of that word… then we are doing it to Christ.  Not just good deeds; not just a way of life; not just being part of a movement of transformation – but an encounter with Christ. Remember one of my favourite commissionings… “May you see the face of Christ in everyone you meet, and may everyone you meet see the faced of Christ in you.”  The work of compassion and justice isn’t just one more burden in already too-busy life… it is the way in which we will encounter Christ, feel the presence of Holiness, be touched and filled with the Spirit.  In a later letter, John will claim, “No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and God’s love is brought to perfection in us.”  So… when we love one another, when we share the bread, then God lives in us.

            Takes some doing, I know.  But if we truly see each other as Christ, as made in the image of God, as filled with Spirit, children of the Holy; if we can see beneath the hurt, pain, brokenness, greed, indifference…. add your own words to the list…. if we can say to each other, “Namaste!”  -- “I bow to you, the Spirit in me greets the Spirit in you.”-- then I think we can love each other, and act upon that.

A couple of weeks ago a member of the congregation, Olive Swan, sent me a poem.  I love it when people send me poems.  Thank you.  It was written on the occasion of the 96^th birthday of Grace Lee Boggs.  I didn’t know anything about her, so I googled her name… and OMG…. what a woman!  Born in the States in 1915, of Chinese immigrant parents, she has been engaged in the work of justice and change all her life… a big voice in the Civil Rights Movement, and still going strong… there are a couple of short videos of her addressing the folk in the Occupy Wall Street movement… affirming their protest, but challenging them to look within themselves, to understand how easy it would be to be seduced by the 1% lifestyle, and further, how the most important task is to offer an alternative vision.  Grace has rooted herself in the city of Detroit, her home, determined to bring about change in the inner city, refusing to abandon it as the economy collapses, as racial tensions flare, as the wealthy folk abandon the urban core, and flee to suburbs and gated communities.  Grace is a woman of faith… someone who, I would dare venture, loves Jesus, and who encounters him, very much alive, in the very heart of Detroit…. listen to this poem by Peter Putnam, Grace’s birthday present; it’s called “Detroit Jesus” –

Time, Inc., buys a house in Detroit
and tries to track him for a year.
But he’s invisible to those looking for a
blue-eyed dude in a white robe
or for a city gone completely to hell.

He is the cinnamon of my son’s skin
with a green thumb and a Tigers cap
and my daughter’s dove-grey eyes.
He prays into Blair’s guitar,
hangs out on Field St.,
bakes bread at Avalon
and plants tomatoes on the East side.
He rides his old-school bike down the heart
of Grand River,
paints a mural in the Corridor,
shoots hoop in the Valley
with priests and pimps and lean young men
trying to jump their way to heaven.

At night,
while the Border Patrol counts cars,
he walks across the water
to Windsor,
grabs a bite to eat,
walks back.

Like Grace,
born in Providence,
he lives so simply,
he could live anywhere:
Dublin, Palestine, Malibu.
But Detroit is his home. [Vancouver is his home.]
It was here one Sunday
a boy invited him down
off the cross
and into his house
for a glass of Faygo red pop.

That was centuries ago, it seems,
and how far he’s come,
reinventing himself more times than Malcolm.
He’s been to prison,
been to college,
has a tattoo of Mary Magdalene on one arm,
Judas on the other,
and knows every Stevie Wonder song by heart.

He’s Jimmy, he’s Invincible [the Rapper], he’s Eminem.
He’s the girls at Catherine Ferguson [Home]
and their babies,
and he’s the deepest part of Kwame
still innocent as a baby.

The incinerator is hell,
but he walks right in,
burns it up with love,
comes out the other side,
walks on.

He can say Amen in twelve religions,
believes school is any place
where head and heart and hands
meet,
and wears a gold timepiece around his neck
with no numbers, just a question:
What time is it on the clock of the world?

And every second of every day
he answers that question
with a smile wide as the Ambassador
and a heart as big as Belle Isle,
hugging this city in his arms
and whispering to each soul
words no one else dares to say:
You are Jesus,
this is your Beloved Community,
and the time
on the clock of the world
is Now.

Do you love Jesus?  Then share the bread; for the time is now.  Amen