More Than Enough

Both of our readings this morning (Isaiah 55.1-5 & Matthew 14.13-21)- focus on active displays of God’s overwhelming abundance and generosity, and in particular what God does with very little, the abundance God creates, as we see a few fish and loaves transformed into a meal which feeds thousands, with enough leftovers to feed many more. 

I want to give a bit of context to the gospel passage because it helps set the scene a little and also acts as a contrast to how we see God work in the reading.

Jesus is seeking solitude as he’s just learned about the death of John the Baptist and needs some space to process that. John is killed after the events at Herod’s birthday celebration, an event which acts as a contrast to Jesus’s actions here. Herod’s party is hollow, shallow and elitist. It results in life being taken. Compare this to how Jesus cares and nurtures and feeds; no one is turned away, he sustains and nourishes in a way which lasts.

As the huge crowd of people try to follow Jesus as he retreats in his grief we see something I talked about recently in an online service- splagthnizomai: bowels of mercy. A physical, visceral response. Jesus is physically moved in the very core of his being to feel compassion for the crowd. 

This is Jesus who is trying to process his own grief and loss and yet still has it within himself to act with the utmost compassion and care towards those who have sought him out, who want or need something from him. And he gives it.

He talks and he teaches, he heals. He gives them what they need. By this point it’s really late and the disciples are thinking “job done, time to send them away”. But Jesus says no. you feed them. It’s like the worse case scenario of someone popping round for tea and having nothing in.

You can only imagine what the disciples must have thought, looking out over that crowd, and if you think, the 5000 was only the men, not counting women and children, there must have been upwards of 10,000 people there with a conservative estimate.

How do you feed 10,000 plus people? What on earth must the disciples have thought of Jesus? But Jesus knew they could do it, because more than anyone Jesus knows and demonstrates the character of God; he knows God is generous and compassionate and that is what is revealed by what followed

Jesus takes what can be found, he looks to heaven and then he blesses, breaks and shares what’s before him. That eucharistic imagery is not a coincidence, these are the actions Jesus will repeat at the Last Supper, the actions I will perform this morning. These actions have, until recently, punctuated our lives as members of a church community where communion is central to our worship- for some of us that has been through our entire life, and to have that denied to us through lockdown has been very painful indeed. 

It’s an example of our God and our faith as physical and practical. We have an incarnate God and an embodied faith. This gospel story of meeting need with abundance is an example of what Angus Ritchie means when he wrote “Eucharistic worship must lead on to truly eucharistic lives. Such lives will exhibit that “freedom from self-concern” which enables us to see our neighbour as a gift and not an interruption”

The disciples probably saw the crowd as an interruption, but Jesus, even in the midst of his own pain, saw them as a gift, and a gift through which he chose to reveal even more of God’s character.

So now we’ve reached a day where it’s possible to once more share in God’s abundance and for some of us to be able to share communion once more, but it’s important to remember that’s still not the case for everyone. We have many vulnerable members of this community for whom returning to the church building isn’t the right thing yet. I think it must be incredibly difficult for those of you who aren’t able to share in that act.

I hope we can be fortified in knowing that even if we can’t share in the elements, our worship, this worship we share today, is still eucharistic, and as Rosalind Brown reminds us the Eucharist is about God’s care for the world. We pray for the world though our eucharistic prayer and we pray that this directs our own actions:

"Lord of all life, help us to work together for that day when your Kingdom comes, and justice and mercy will be seen in all the earth." 

"Send us out in the power of your Spirit to live and work to your praise and glory;" 

"May we who share Christ's body live his risen life, we who drink his cup bring life to others, we whom the Spirit lights give light to the world."

Like the bread and fish Jesus gathers up, we too are taken by Jesus, blessed, broken and shared for the world. No matter how little we think we are or how little we feel we have to give, the words of our prayers and nature of our worship are shaped to remind us that our little, through God, is enough, is more than enough. We’re what God uses to sustain others, even if we feel very small and inadequate. 

Even if we can’t share in the fullness of a communion service as we once knew it we can share our fully eucharistic lives, knowing that whatever we offer to God will be multiplied and used to magnify and glorify God’s love in our world. 

And through our prayers for the world God directs us towards those people who surround us, who are a gift to us, and God continues to show his abundant and excessive love, where all are filled and there’s always enough to share and there’s always more than enough left over. Amen.

Nick Cave on prayer

The following is from a blog post authored by Musician Nick Cave. As a team we've been pondering if "prayer" is an inclusive or exclusive term as we (alongside many chaplaincy teams throughout the country) plan to light a candle at midday, each day, and pray for colleagues, patients and their dear ones who are effected by Covid-19.

The act of prayer is by no means exclusive to religious practise because prayer is not dependent on the existence of a subject. You need not pray to anyone. It is just as valuable to pray into your disbelief, as it is to pray into your belief, for prayer is not an encounter with an external agent, rather it is an encounter with oneself. There is as much chance of our prayers being answered by a God that exists as a God that doesn’t. I do not mean this facetiously, for prayers are very often answered.

A prayer provides us with a moment in time where we can contemplate the things that are important to us, and this watchful application of our attention can manifest these essential needs. The act of prayer asks of us something and by doing so delivers much in return — it asks us to present ourselves to the unknown as we are, devoid of pretence and affectation, and to contemplate exactly what it is we love or cherish. Through this conversation with our inner self we confront the nature of our own existence.

The coronavirus has brought us to our knees, yet it has also presented us with the opportunity to be prayerful, whether we believe in God or not. By forcing us into isolation, it has dismantled our constructed selves, by challenging our presumed needs, our desires, and our ambitions and rendered us raw, essential and reflective. Our sudden dislocation has thrown us into a mystery that exists at the edge of tears and revelation, for none of us knows what tomorrow will bring.

In our hubris we thought we knew, but as we bow our heads within the virus’ awesome power, all we are sure of now is our defencelessness. In the end this vulnerability may be, for our planet and ourselves, our saving grace, as we step chastened into tomorrow. Released from our certitude, we present our purest offering to the world — our prayers.

The original post can be found here

Broken Bread

Sonnet by Malcolm Guite used in this morning's service:

We thought that everything was lost and gone,

Disaster on disaster overtook us

The night we left our Jesus all alone

And we were scattered, and our faith forsook us.

But oh that foul Friday proved far worse,

For we had hoped that he had been the one,

Till crucifixion proved he was a curse,

And on the cross our hopes were all undone.

Oh foolish foolish heart why do you grieve?

Here is good news and comfort to your soul:

Open your mind to scripture and believe

He bore the curse for you to make you whole

The living God was numbered with the dead

That He might bring you Life in broken bread.

6th December

The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.” -Luke 1:35

I found this to share:
Ballad of the Bread Man (1968) Charles Causley

Mary stood in the kitchen
Baking a loaf of bread.
An angel flew in through the window.
‘We’ve a job for you,’ he said.

‘God in his big gold heaven
Sitting in his big blue chair,
Wanted a mother for his little son.
Suddenly saw you there.’

Mary shook and trembled,
‘It isn’t true what you say.’
‘Don’t say that,’ said the angel.
‘The baby’s on its way.’

Joseph was in the workshop
Planing a piece of wood.
‘The old man’s past it,’ the neighbours said.
‘That girl’s been up to no good.’

‘And who was that elegant fellow,’
They said. ‘in the shiny gear?’
The things they said about Gabriel
Were hardly fit to hear.

Mary never answered,
Mary never replied.
She kept the information,
Like the baby, safe inside.

It was the election winter.
They went to vote in town.
When Mary found her time had come
The hotels let her down.

The baby was born in an annexe
Next to the local pub.
At midnight, a delegation
Turned up from the Farmers’ Club.

They talked about an explosion
That made a hole in the sky,
Said they’d been sent to the Lamb and Flag
To see God come down from on high.

A few days later a bishop
And a five-star general were seen
With the head of an African country
In a bullet-proof limousine.

‘We’ve come,’ they said ‘with tokens
For the little boy to choose.’
Told the tale about war and peace
In the television news.

After them came the soldiers
With rifle and bombs and gun,
Looking for enemies of the state.
The family had packed up and gone.

When they got back to the village
The neighbours said, to a man,
‘That boy will never be one of us,
Though he does what he blessed well can.’

He went round to all the people
A paper crown on his head.
Here is some bread from my father.
Take, eat, he said.

Nobody seemed very hungry.
Nobody seemed to care.
Nobody saw the God in himself
Quietly standing there.

He finished up in the papers,
He came to a very bad end.
He was charged with bringing the living to life.
No man was that prisoner’s friend.

There’s only one kind of punishment
To fit that kind of crime.
They rigged a trial and shot him dead.
They were only just in time.

They lifted the young man by the leg,
Thy lifted him by the arm,
They locked him in a cathedral
In case he came to harm.

They stored him safe as water
Under seven rocks.
One Sunday morning he burst out
Like a jack-in-the-box.

Through the town he went walking.
He showed them the holes in his head.
Now do you want any loaves? he cried.
‘Not today’ they said.