St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
July 28, 2024
Year B, Proper 12: The Tenth Sunday after Pentecost
2 Samuel 11:1-15
Psalm 14
Ephesians 3:14-21
John 6:1-21
As God Meant for Things to Be
If you’ve been here over the past couple of Sundays, you may remember that I’ve been reflecting a little bit on how we ended up in this seemingly divided moment in our country’s history.
It’s difficult to talk about because it requires carefully sidestepping partisan politics.
But, since nobody seems to have gotten mad and you all keep coming back for more, I guess I’m doing OK!
Thinking about our current situation, I’ve suggested that a big part of our problem is distraction – we’re distracted by the relentless buzzing and pinging of our phones – we’re distracted by the relentless 24-hour news cycle, the media doing everything possible to keep us frightened and angry and divided, our eyes glued to the tube, blood pressure rising.
Meanwhile, we just don’t know each other anymore.
Someone pointed out that porches used to be built on the front of houses so neighbors could sit out and call to each other.
But now, the porches are located on the rear of houses, for privacy, for quiet, for separation.
And when we don’t know each other, we’re likely to mistrust one another, assuming the worst, not really caring about our neighbors, especially people who are different from us, people we may only see through the distorted images on our screens.
And when we don’t know each other and don’t care about each other, we’re likely to assume that there’s just not enough for everybody – that for me to win, you’ve got to lose – and so we all race to the bottom, playing a zero-sum game with few, if any, real winners.
Thinking about this mess, I was reminded of a quote by Dorothy Day, the co-founder of the Catholic Worker movement nearly a century ago and one of my spiritual heroes.
Dorothy Day said, “God meant for things to be much easier than we have made them.”
“God meant for things to be much easier than we have made them.”
And part of the reason why God came into the world in and through Jesus, is to remind us of how God meant for things to be – to remind us of who we were always meant to be.
In today’s lesson from the Gospel of John, we heard the familiar story of Jesus feeding the multitudes, the multiplication of the loaves and the fishes.
People – lots and lots of people – have been following Jesus.
They’ve been hungry for his healing, hungry for his teaching, hungry for hope.
But now, all these people, they’re just plain hungry.
I love the opening of this story, when Jesus coyly asks Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for all these people to eat?”
Although Philip should’ve known better by now, he’s seems to be stuck in the scarcity mindset of the world – I mean, there’s just not enough money to feed all these people – there’s just not enough, right?
Andrew finds a boy with five barley loaves and two fish, but, come on, let’s be real, there’s no way that this can be enough.
What Philip and Andrew haven’t realized is that, with Jesus, there is always abundance.
And maybe we haven’t realized that, either.
Or maybe we just forget.
Well, you heard the rest of the story.
Turns out there’s enough food for everybody – there’s way more than enough – twelve baskets of leftovers.
This is the only one of Jesus’ miracles recorded in all four gospels.
The miraculous multiplication obviously made a big impression on the early church.
But it’s not just that.
You may know that John’s gospel doesn’t describe Jesus’ acts of healing and power as miracles. They are more important than just acts of wonder.
John says that they are signs - signs pointing to a deeper truth.
And this story of more than enough points something essential about who Jesus is and what Jesus offers us.
With Jesus, there is always abundance.
And this – this abundant life – this world where there is enough for everybody – this garden where there is more than enough for everybody – this is the way God always meant things to be.
Today is the last Sunday of July.
The days are becoming noticeably shorter - summer seems to be flying by as always.
But for me, the last Sunday in July has extra meaning, because three years ago this was my first Sunday here at St. Thomas’.
And because we follow a three-year cycle of Bible readings, today’s readings were the readings that we read and heard together here on that memorable day.
I don’t usually look back at my old sermons, but I did pull up what I said three years ago.
Then as now, I dodged our first lesson, the disturbing and sordid tale of David and Bathsheba.
Don’t worry, I’ll talk about that next week, just like I did three years ago.
But, sure enough, I did speak about the abundance here at St. Thomas – the abundance that was already obvious to me after being here for just a few days – the abundance of natural beauty all around us – the abundance of leadership and generosity that had held this church together during the grim and frightening days of the pandemic – the abundance of faith that inspired people to keep praying and worshiping together, even over Zoom – and the abundance of hospitality extended to Sue and me, a couple of strangers from Jersey City.
Three years ago, I spoke about the abundance here at St. Thomas’ but, of course, I didn’t really know.
I had had only an inkling of just how much abundance is here.
But now, after three years, I think of the countless hours so many of you give to the work of the church – supporting ministries from the Acolytes to the Zoom Bible Study.
I think of the way we welcomed our Afghan friends and how a committed group of parishioners continue to care for them, quietly and patiently.
I think of the way we console one another in times of sorrow – all those prayers, all those calls and cards, all those meals and quilts.
I think about the amazing talent and tireless dedication of our staff, the many ways they support all of us, most especially me.
I think of doing the demanding work of learning as much as we can about the North Cemetery, about the people buried there, and committing ourselves to remembering and honoring them.
I think of Courtney DeVeau and Remington Brooks inviting the whole parish to their wedding last year, and now today we celebrate the birth on Friday of their son, Henry Frederick Brooks – oh yes, yet another baptism on the horizon!
I think of parishioners taking the chance to talk about the tough topic of race and racism – gathering week after week for Sacred Ground, and about 50 of us getting together just a couple of weeks ago to watch Origin and to have a frank and challenging conversation.
I think of us sitting around the Parish Hall to plan our funerals – not an easy thing – just about the last thing anybody wants to talk about – but having a ridiculous amount of fun, because we were together and we know we are loved and we know God won’t let go of us, no matter what.
I think of how we’re still not done finding ways to be a servant church, how an incredibly generous parishioner gave $10,000 so we can start an afterschool program over at Owings Mills Elementary School – and who knows what God will do with that opportunity!
I could go on all day – I haven’t even mentioned all the amazing new people God has sent us – I could go on all day but the Search Committee made it clear to me that our service should not be longer than an hour.
But the point is this: with Jesus, there is always abundance.
And we don’t need to hear a long-ago story of loaves and fishes to know that.
Jesus is here at St. Thomas’, feeding us so well, making this is a place of abundance.
Jesus is here at St. Thomas’, here in this (mostly) phone-free zone, here with all kinds of different people with lots of different points of view, all of us praying and loving and serving together.
Jesus is here at St. Thomas’, giving us a glimpse – an extraordinarily beautiful glimpse of how God has always meant for things to be – an extraordinarily beautiful glimpse of who we were always meant to be.
Thank you, Jesus.
And thank you, all.
Amen.
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