Mark 6:30-44

It is late on a Friday afternoon and the hospital is getting energized.  Families arrive to visit their loved ones, children walk through halls with balloons for their grandparents, and nurses slump their shoulders at the end of their all-day shifts or scamper around collecting information about their patients to begin their overnight push.  Things are changing - transitioning in most of the hospital.  But not in the emergency room.
At a trauma 1 hospital like this one, things are always a bit on edge in the emergency department.  

Two trauma patients come in - a young mother and her 2-year-old daughter.  They were in a car wreck on their way to the family beach vacation.  While driving down the highway, a tree inexplicably fell across their path.  The car swerved into the median and crashed.  The woman and her daughter are flown in by helicopter, and all the nurses and doctors begin to fret and fuss.  Their injuries are not alarming, but their story is.  Word travels fast - from one EMT to another, to a doctor, to a nurse.  The mother and the daughter were not the only passengers in the car.  The father was the one driving.  He swerved to miss the falling tree, and he was killed in the accident.

The nurses also discover that the mother doesn’t know that her husband was killed.  She was rushed from the scene too quickly to know.  No one in the emergency room can tell her, though they all know the terrible truth.  Only a police officer who was at the scene can give a guaranteed-to-be-true, eye witness account.  Only someone who was at the scene can report on the father’s condition so that no false rumors are reported.  So the nurses and doctors wait, holding in the news they know.  The mother waits for news of her husband, asking every person that enters, “Is my husband ok?”

All dwelling in a place of quiet desolation.
                       

In the only miracle story told by all four gospels, Jesus sees the people and he is moved to compassion for them.  To him, they are like sheep who have lost their shepherd.  Jesus teaches them and instructs them.  He shares with them - at length, about the kingdom of heaven.  Jesus shares with them so much, that meal times come and go.  The dial goes waaaay past the 12:00 end of worship deadline, and Jesus is still just preaching away.  The disciples become concerned for the well-being of the people.  They go to Jesus and say to him: “This is a desolate place, and the hour is now very late, send them away so that they may go into the surrounding country and villages and buy something for themselves to eat.”

This is a desolate place.  This is a deserted place.  This is a place of isolation, a place of separation from what is known and loved.  The disciples don’t get the answer they expect.  Jesus says, “You give them something to eat.  You feed them.”

The disciples, those following Jesus, find themselves in a desolate place.  When have you found yourself in a desolate place?  When have you found yourself deserted, isolated, alone?  When have you found yourself like those nurses and doctors, in a desolate place - a place of fear and uncertainty, a place of solitude?  We know what a time of desolation feels like: a loved one lost, a relationship broken, a dream shattered.  These are the desolate places of life.  These are the times when we’d like to throw in the towel.

This is not a new concept for anyone in our faith tradition.  After escaping the clutches of Egypt, the Israelites wandered in the wilderness for 40 years.  They had little food, they had little water, they traveled through a deserted land, wishing they had never fled Egypt to begin with.  Yet into this desolation, God sent manna, a blessing from heaven.  God fed the people in their hour of need.  When their hope faltered, when they despaired in a place of desolation, God sent bread from heaven to save them.  Into the desolate place, God brought life.

This experience is written about, in one of the most well-known Psalms: Psalm 23.
Ye thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death - what place is more desolate there than that?  I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me - in that desolate place, God is with us.  God walks beside us.  Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me - like a good shepherd, God’s love is there.  God makes us lie down in green pastures, God leads us beside the still waters, God restores our souls, God give us life, and life abundantly.

This is the experience of the disciples in Mark’s gospel.  They see this crowd in a desolate place, and they reach out to Jesus.  There in that desolate place, Jesus has the people lie down in green pastures, beside the still waters of the sea of Galilee, and Jesus provides for them food.  Jesus provides for them life, and life abundantly.

We have just begun the season of Lent - a time for spiritual reflection and self-contemplation.  Throughout Lent we are going to be spending time thinking about the face of Jesus, considering what encounters of Jesus might have looked like.

Feeding of the 5000
by Morgan Smet

One of the ways we are going to be exploring the face of Jesus is through artwork.  Each Sunday, a different artist from our congregation is going to create a piece of artwork based off the Scripture reading for that week.  I encourage you to look at this piece of artwork, spend time observing the colors, notice the details of the painting, try to see the face of Jesus.

Morgan Smet is our artist for the Feeding of 5000.  In her depiction of this story, Jesus’ gift in a desolate place shines bright.  Into the darkness of a desolate place, the miracle of the fish and bread brings the light of hope.  An over-flowing bounty is given.

Our regional gathering of Presbyterian churches convened recently in a presbytery meeting.  Your pastors and elder representatives considered a number of issues facing our church.  One of the many important things our presbytery considered yesterday  was the addition of a confession to our constitution.  Currently, part of our constitution is made up of our book of confessions.  These are 11 confessions and creeds which Christians have used throughout history which state the things that we believe.  A couple of the more well known ones are the Apostle’s Creed, and the Brief Statement of Faith, both which we regularly use in worship.

\We believe that these confessions are works written by humans, inspired by the presence of the Holy Spirit, which reflect a belief held by Christians at pivotal points in our faith tradition’s history.  It is a long and complex process to add a confession to this list, but our presbytery voted yesterday to include a new confession, called the Belhar Confession.  This is a confession which comes out of apartheid-era South Africa.  It speaks strongly about the need for racial justice, equality, and reconciliation.  This is a confession born out of a community of people who found themselves in a desolate place - a community facing severe oppression and violence, with no end or hope in sight.  In the midst of this desolate place, God was at work, and the Holy Spirit moved.  The Holy Spirit working in the people of the Dutch Reformed Mission Church in South Africa.  A community of faith was led by the Holy Spirit to speak out against division, to take a stand for racial unity, to confess their belief in a God who brings life into desolation.  Within a matter of years, apartheid began to erode.

This is the promise of the Gospel: that God meets us in our moments of desolation, that we may find Jesus’ face in our places of desolation, that the Holy Spirit is with us in the shadow valley.  That is why we gather around the communion table.  In our story today, Jesus gathered the loaves and fish that the disciples had, he looked up to heaven, he blessed them, he broke them, and he gave them to his disciples.  If this sounds familiar, that’s because it is.  This is exactly what Jesus did immediately before his death in the upper room with his disciples.  He took the loaf, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them.  In that sacrament, they met Jesus, and found hope.

The feeding of the 5000 is the story of Jesus providing bread in a desolate place and it is also the story of a sacrament.  It is the story of communion.  God meets us in our moments of desolation at the table.  This table is not just for those of us who have it figured out who have all the answers, it’s also for those who have the questions.  It’s not just for those who have their lives all neatly put together, it’s also for those who find themselves in a desolate place right now.  It’s not just for those who have followed Jesus their whole lives, it’s also for those who trust that this is a place where they have a chance to see the face of Jesus for the first time.  

Come to this table, just as you are, even in the midst of your desolation. 

Come to this table, and, in this holy gift of life, meet your God.

Amen.

Ash Wednesday Sermon 2015

Joel 2:1-2 and 12-17

What is the point of Ash Wednesday?

It is the day that follows Shrove Tuesday - which is also typically connected with Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday.  Shrove Tuesday is a last attempt to rid our pantries and our lives of the “fat” things - too much butter, too much extravagance.

On the opposite side of the spectrum is Lent.  Ash Wednesday is a marker for the beginning of the season of Lent.  Lent is the 40 days (not including Sundays) which immediately precede Easter Sunday.  This is a season typically marked by introspection.  It is a somewhat somber time during the liturgical year, a time devoid of Alleluias, when Christians attempt to assess their lives, to discern whether they are living out God’s call to the fullest.

Ash Wednesday bridges the gap between Fat Tuesday and Lent.  It is a day characterized by a turning, by repentance, by ashes placed on foreheads, by a solemn assembly, solemn words, and solemn hearts.  The deep meaning of Ash Wednesday can be found in the words that are spoken when ashes are placed on our foreheads: "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."  One of the primary focuses of Ash Wednesday is death. 

I have to admit that I, more often than I would like, fall prey to the temptation of the Facebook video.  This is what Facebook has become: it is less a place to stay in touch with your friends and share pictures of your life, and more a place to share a funny/entertaining/emotionally compelling video.  Whether it is goats screaming, babies laughing, kittens cuddling, or videos of inspirational words set to acoustic music, Facebook is the place to waste time watching it.

When I was scanning through the videos and articles this week, I found one of a little girl named Sadie.  This is a video of a 5 year-old-girl and her 3-month-old brother.
And the video recently went viral.  In the video, Sadie is sitting next to her little brother, absolutely bawling.  I know it sounds wrong to say it, but it’s so cute.  Sadie is crying because she thinks that her little brother is the cutest thing ever.  She says to the camera, "I don’t want him to ever grow up!  He’s so cute.  I love his cute little smile!"

 She’s absolutely sobbing the entire time she’s saying this.  She has a point, the chubby little brother is sitting there the whole time, just staring at her with these baby eyes, laughing and giggling.  This prompts Sadie to lean over and give him little kisses on his head.

It’s one big video of cuteness and tears and giggling all balled up into less than a minute.  I was almost in tears myself as I was watching this video, and I found myself wondering why she’d gotten herself so worked up about her baby brother growing up.  Then there is this turning point in the video.  Sadie says, “He’s so cute, and I don’t want to die when I’m a hundred.”  At that moment, the video took on a completely different meaning for me.  I realized that this girl is just starting to understand what it means to grow up.  She’s just starting to understand how temporary life is.  She’s realizing that she is going to die one day, and if she is going to die, her little brother will die to.  This is what has upset little Sadie so much: she has begun to understand mortality.

When you receive ashes on your forehead and you hear those ancient words: “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you will return,” you will be justified in feeling a sense of discomfort.  Just like Sadie, we feel some amount of discomfort when we think of death.  We don’t really like to talk about it, we don’t really even like to think of it.  And our culture backs this up.  Think of how many beauty products you've seen to eliminate wrinkles, or how many other products which promise to keep you looking young.  This is taking advantage of our glorification of youth and our desire to avoid aging and the inevitable outcome of aging.  But Ash Wednesday is a day which we can dedicate to consider the meaning of death.

In the beginning of Genesis God creates light out of the darkness.  God creates the earth and the waters and all the animals that live, and God creates humans.  It is because of this story that we speak the words, "Remember that you are dust."  In one of the creation stories, God takes dirt from the earth and creates the first human: Adam.  It is no accident that Adam’s name is Adam.  The Hebrew word for earth or land is adamah.  This first human is created from the stuff of earth.  This symbolizes a deep connection we have with the earth.  In our very being as created creatures, we are tied to the earth.  It is to this earth - to which we are so connected - that we will return.

This is part of God’s calling for our lives.  We will live and do God’s work, we will glorify God with each one of our breathes, until our very last breath.  Then our bodies will return to that from which they were created, when we will be raised to return to the one who created us.  There is a beginning and an end to all things.

How do we respond to this truth about life and death?  Joel suggests we repent.  But Joel is not talking about repentance for the reasons we might think.  He doesn't focus on our sins.  He isn't concerned about what sins caused what damages, rather Joel is primarily concerned with the actions of the people.  Joel see repentance as an admission of our total dependence upon God.  Joel calls us to repent in order to help us recognize that we are totally dependent upon God.  We owe all that we are, our very created existence to God.  This calls us to a state of humility.  It takes a lot of humility to admit that we are not in control, especially for a species which really does seem to be in control.  By turning to God, by repenting and acknowledging God as Lord, we accept our humble state.

Joel suggests that our repentance should include two things.  First he suggests we turn from our former ways, that we go in a new direction, toward God, and that we do so with the heart.  He also instructs us to rend our hearts.  In other words, allow our hearts to be opened, and maybe even broken; allow our hearts to break for those who experience pain in the world; allow ourselves to be called out of our isolationism to experience the people around us.

These are the challenges I give you this Lent season turn to God with all your heart.  Allow your heart to be broken and opened, for the world and those around you.  Look for the moments when the face of Jesus appears in unexpected ways:
not in glory, but in shame,
not in power, but in weakness,
not in triumph, but in suffering with us.

With a deep sense of humility, begin your Lenten journey by affirming that, by the wonderful grace of God, we are dust, and to dust we will return.  Amen.