From Out of the Whirlwind...

 

PROPERS:          THIRD SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY 

TEXT:                NEHEMIAH 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10  

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, MOBILE, ON SUNDAY, JANUARY 26, 2025.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        We look through a glass darkly at the movement of God in our lives.   

 

            This past Thursday was a little-acknowledged feast day in the church year.  It was our annual commemoration of the man who was, perhaps, the greatest preacher in the history of the Episcopal Church.

 

            Philips Brooks was the rector of that well-known parish in Boston – Trinity Church, Copley Square.  It is a massive edifice in downtown Boston, and Philips Brooks preached there for 22 years.  He was elected bishop of Massachusetts in 1891 – a post he held for only two years before he died.

 

            It should be noted that one contribution he made to our tradition is that he wrote “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” He is a towering figure in our church history.

 

            Another, lesser-known fact is that this past Thursday, the feast day of Philips Brooks, was also Jody Burnett’s birthday.

 

            O rector, my rector – happy birthday!

 

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            We come face-to-face today with another little-known fact – the first lesson, from Nehemiah.

 

            We regularly read or listen to scripture passages on Sunday that we do not understand.  Their background, their meaning, their significance are lost on us.  We don’t know how to unspool them to find the meaning deep within.  This passage from Nehemiah is just such a lesson.

 

            Let me place it in historical context for you.

 

            There are two deeply significant events in the Old Testament. One is the original Passover in Egypt and the deliverance at the Red Sea.  Anyone who has watched Charlton Heston as Moses in The Ten Commandments is familiar with that event.

 

            The other event is much less known.  It transpired in 587 BC. King Nebuchadnezzar and his Babylonian army laid siege to the Holy City of Jerusalem and leveled it – including the sacred Temple built by Solomon. Stone from stone.

 

            Blood ran in the streets and the people of Jerusalem were taken into exile.  It was the beginning of the Jewish diaspora, when the Jewish people were dispersed throughout the Western World – especially Eastern Europe. Sadly, it laid the early foundation for the Holocaust. It was a turning point in Judaism. The nation of Judah was ravaged and ceased to exist.

 

            The scriptural perspective is that the people had turned away from God’s law and the result had been divine, retributive action by the Babylonians.

 

            But history has a funny way of turning on worldly powers.  Babylon was defeated by Persia – modern-day Iran – and the fate of the Jews rested in the hands of Cyrus the Great, King of Persia. I would note he was the predecessor – by 2,000 years – of the ayatollah.

 

            Cyrus released the Jews to return to Jerusalem.  And they did.  Nehemiah, the governor, and Ezra, the priest, were responsible for reintroducing God’s law and rebuilding the city.  It is at that point that we find them today. They are reintroducing the Law to God’s chosen people in the Holy City of Jerusalem.

 

            Ultimately, they will succeed.  The city will be rebuilt.  A magnificent Temple will be constructed – a Temple where Jesus will teach 600 years later.  It will be that new Temple – originally built by Nehemiah’s workers and made grand by Herod – from which Jesus would eject the money changers.

 

            And it is that Temple that will fall to the Roman legions in AD 70.  They, too, will raze it, stone from stone.  Once again, the people will be vanquished… and weep for the loss of their holy place. Forty years after Jesus’ crucifixion.

 

            One would not blame the Jews for the ultimate theological question of theodicy – why is there injustice, tragedy, loss in God’s creation?

 

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            In 1948 the nation of Israel came into being.  The Temple Mount and the adjacent Wailing Wall were recaptured in 1967. I was there on the 50^th anniversary of the nation’s founding. Israel lives today – despite the horrors of history.

 

            We will endure losses – personally, as a people, as a nation. When the winds of change or loss hit us as individuals or sweep through us as a people, we can and should grieve.  That is a reasonable human reaction – it is not to be dismissed or minimized.

 

            But neither should we vanquish hope.  Despair is not our friend in faith. While we may question the justice of the loss of a loved one, the seeming triumph of an unjust cause, or some sort of cataclysm which rocks our community.  We need to recognize that we do not understand the trajectory of history; we do not see the end result off in the mists of the future.

 

            We do not fully understand or grasp God’s ways.

 

            My point?

 

            All this reminds me of two things…

 

First, in the book that bears his name, Job bitterly complains that bad fortune had befallen him, and had lost family, flocks, crops, fields, and wealth.  He had lived a sterling life.  Is there no justice?

 

In the 38^th chapter, God answers Job’s accusations of the lack of justice in life: 

 

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind:

² “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?
³ Gird up your loins like a man;
    I will question you, and you shall declare to me.

⁴ “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?
    Tell me, if you have understanding.
⁵ Who determined its measurements—surely you know!
    Or who stretched the line upon it?
⁶ On what were its bases sunk,
    or who laid its cornerstone
⁷ when the morning stars sang together
    and all the heavenly beings^[a] shouted for joy?

 

            This is core to my theology – we see through a glass darkly. Now, we do not understand.  Our vision is limited. Neither we nor Nehemiah could understand what would transpire in the coming years, decades, or centuries.

 

            At the same time, though, I embrace the hope of faith that is found in Martin Luther King’s sermon at Washington National Cathedral five days before he was assassinated in Memphis: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”

 

            Job, Chapter 38, and the quotation from Martin Luther King. They summarize my faith.  That is my hope. On Christ the solid rock I stand…

A Very Special Word

 

PROPERS: CHRISTMAS 1, YEAR C

TEXT:       JOHN 1:1-18

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, MOBILE, ON SUNDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2024.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        “The Word” expresses the evangelist’s best effort to describe what the young church had experienced in the person of Jesus.

 

 

            One of the challenges of being a person of a “certain age” is a frequent inability to come up with particular word or name, no matter how hard I try.  As a friend described it, the memory cells are there, it’s just the retrieval system that is lacking.

 

            I have read that a good escape from the discomfort of such a moment is to say, searching curiously, “I can’t remember the English word for it now…”

 

            That immediately does two things:  It get’s me out of an uncomfortable bind, and it causes the person to whom I’m speaking to think I am multilingual.  Which I am not.

 

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            Searching for a word or concept. That was precisely what the early church was doing as the writer of John’s gospel prepared to pen his testimony.

 

            The Gospel according to John is unique.  It is the latest of the four gospels, probably finalized about 100 A. D. – some seventy years after Jesus’ earthly life.

 

            It is also radically different.  It is profoundly theological.  It deals with the why much more than the what. Like the Gospel according to Mark, it does not concern itself with Jesus’ birth.  Like the Gospel according to Matthew, it seeks to explain Jesus’ origins – but in a distinctly theological way.

 

            The young church was seeking to explain this thing that it had experienced.  They wondered:  How do you describe his teaching?  How do you describe his healing? How do you describe his raising Lazarus from the dead? What about his humility… his battles with religious authorities?  What about his trial, execution, and resurrection?

 

            Why do we still sense his presence all these years later?

 

            Jesus’ followers had experienced all this.  And those who came to the movement later also knew of his mysterious transforming power – long after his earthly life.

 

            How do you capture this in a scroll?

 

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            This is what the author of John pondered.

 

            In Greek philosophy about that time there was a concept of logos – which we translate as word.  It represented logic and reason – the foundation of sound thinking, argumentation, and philosophy.  It was a simple but profound concept.

 

            But the author of John’s gospel saw much more in logos.  And he used that approach to what is known as the prolegomena to his gospel – the first 18 verses. “In the beginning was the word…”

 

            As the author saw it (and described it), this marvelous experience the world had known in this Middle Eastern man called Jesus, represented the essence, the creative power of God. “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

 

            And that essence of God was a part of God – and not separate of the divine being.  The logos touched and transformed people’s lives: “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known.” The logos – like God – permeates creation.

 

            I love that simple passage: “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.” Just as the logos is the essence of God, the child we worship this season is the essence of God’s grace upon grace.

 

Not of This World

PROPERS: LAST SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST, YEAR B

TEXT:       JOHN 18:33-37

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, MOBILE, ON SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2024.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        Scripture and experience teach us that the Kingdom is not of this world.

 

 

            Good morning.

 

            I want to begin this morning with a couple of points of personal privilege.

 

            First, our two grandsons, Wilt and Harris, are present in the congregation today.  They love to see it when their grandfather – they call me Bosco – is “on the stage”, as they refer to the pulpit. Welcome, Wilt and Harris.

 

            Second, nearly 37 years ago I was ordained priest.  I served parishes in various communities for most of those years. But during the last 16 years of active ministry, I served as Canon to the Ordinary in the Episcopal Diocese of Mississippi.  I loved it – but to be honest, I was a bit of a bean-counter, and frequently an unwelcome extension of the bishop’s office.  It was what I was called to do.

 

            I want you to know what I have discovered – discovered right here at St. Paul’s, Mobile.  I have rediscovered the joy that originally prompted me to enter seminary.  It is wonderful to sit with you and hear your stories… to connect with you. Even if I can’t remember everyone’s name.

 

            I want to express my thanks to Jody for calling me to this ministry, and to Brad for his friendship.  Just between you and me, Jody probably thought he would be helping himself.  Actually, he has helped this eight-year retired priest find joy in ministry again.

 

            My thanks to him, and to you.

 

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Just a couple of weeks ago, we celebrated Veteran’s Day.  It was originally called Armistice Day – commemorating the 11^th hour of the 11^th day of 11^th month in 1918 when the guns of the Great War fell silent.

 

The years which preceded that momentous event began the demise of a powerful theological movement – Theological Liberalism. But not the liberalism you think.

 

            It was like this. Ever since the enlightenment, optimism was on the rise. The march of human progress was seen as inevitable. Industry was prospering. Scientific insights were ubiquitous.  The standard of living was on the improving. Some theologians even believed that we might find perfection – the Kingdom of God – in the present day. That was a heady time.

 

            The Great War – also known as World War I – brought a cold dose of reality. Theological liberalism ended in a crash. The trench warfare, the fox holes, the chemical weapons, and 40 million dead pricked that balloon.  

 

Two decades later, World War II and all its horrors, including the Holocaust, would follow.

 

The world then and today is broken.

 

            It is utter hubris to think that we can usher in the Kingdom of God.  The flaws of our many cultures testify to that. Think of Ukraine.  Think of Gaza.  Think of the divisions within this culture.

 

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            As Jody reminded us in his sermon last week, it was Pope Pius XI who marked the end of that naivete in 1925 when he instituted Christ the King Sunday – the last Sunday after Pentecost and before Advent.

 

            But what does it mean?

 

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Jesus stood before the Roman Governor, Pilate, in Jerusalem’s Praetorium.

 

            Pilate challenged him.  “Are you the King of the Jews?”

 

            Jesus’ response is succinct: “My kingdom is not of this world.”

 

            A kingdom not of this world…

 

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            Tim Alberta, son of an evangelical pastor, has written a book, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory.

 

            You probably recognize those words from the Lord’s Prayer. But he writes that the way it is being practiced is a modern-day heresy.  He writes of the large portion of modern-day Christianity which has brought back the aspiration that the Kingdom of God can be forced into being. If we have enough power, we can bring it about.

 

            His perspective is that many have traded the eternal rewards we cherish for the earthly treasures, which Jesus tells us turn to dust. Throughout his book, Tim Alberta recounts his winding travels around the country, visiting with pastors of megachurches who see the promises this world is making to them.

 

            My point to you today is theological and not political. We are not tempted. We worship a Lord and look for a Kingdom that we celebrate today – a Kingdom not of this world.

 

            Let’s be honest. The many good works we do here do not build the Kingdom of God. Nurturing children, reaching out to others in a meaningful ways, touching lives, caring for others – these build Christian community, where we and others may be formed in the image of Christ.

 

            The King we worship transcends our limited view and knowledge of time and space. God’s Kingdom is over, under, around, and through all that we encounter.  In our best, most sacred moments we know it’s reality here and there, now and again, like a wisp of wind.

 

            But it is real, and as we have learned through ashes and bitter experience, it continues to resist our efforts to force it into our world.  We, too, are here but for the twinkling of an eye, but the King and his reign continue forever. 

Beyond Giving

 

PROPERS: PROPER 23, YEAR B

TEXT:       MARK 10:17-31

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, OCTOBER 13, 2024.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The essence of the Gospel is not the Law – it is the transcendent manner in which we live our lives.

 

            This gospel lesson today is especially relevant.  And it is relevant not because we are coming to the conclusion of the fall financial canvass – what Bishop Greg Rickel called the fall begathon.

 

            This gospel is about true and deep conversion of the heart.  And it impacts how we will exercise our choices in coming weeks. As the lesson from Hebrews today notes, “The word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”

 

            Jesus goes from preachin’ to meddlin’ here.  A righteous and faithful young man – we called him the rich young ruler years ago – comes to Jesus and asks about requirements to attain eternal life.

 

            Jesus responds with a few of the Ten Commandments: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.”

 

            The young man responds: “I have done these from my youth.”

 

            Jesus looks at him – and this is important – and loves him. Jesus knows he’s about to break the young man’s heart.  He will pierce his bubble. Jesus is speaking to a different eternal life than the young man asked about.

 

            “Go and sell all you have and give it to the poor.” The young man’s heart is broken.  He is a wealthy young man. He does not understand Jesus’ response.

 

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            I often wonder what literalists and prosperity gospel preachers do with this. It’s awfully challenging – especially to folks like us who have means (which I would translate as comforts), compared to the rest of the world.

 

            The truth of this gospel cannot be explained away by the notion that Christianity is like the Law, which can be fulfilled, or a golden ticket, which assures us of some heavenly destiny. Eternal life begins in the here-and-now, as we live our lives daily.

 

            There is an old saying: Virtue is its own reward. Christianity, fully lived, is its own reward.  When we give priority to the life which Jesus led and taught, with values different from the world around us, we find ourselves being transformed and the world around us seeing that transformation.

 

            A book I read years ago, Stages of Faith, categorizes faith-seekers according to various stages – from those who view faith as some sort of rabbit’s foot, to those who have deep and abiding faith and are able to embrace this mystery of the gospel. The latter folks relate to the world differently.

 

            There are all those types here today – from those who think if we check off the list of rules, we are okay; to those who live faith as the fullness of life.

 

            The young man who came to Jesus was of the first type – a follower of the Law. He did not know the fullness of the gospel of grace.  Yet. He was living the Law, and not living the Gospel.

 

            We live a rich variety of faiths – each of us. It’s important to note – and I do so here today – that as Jesus prepared to break the young man’s heart, he loved him.  Just as he loves each of us.  And he calls us forward -- to the fulness of life that the deep, profound journey of faith can bring us.

Living the Essentials

 

PROPERS: PROPER 19, YEAR B

TEXT:       MARK 8:27-38

PREACHED AT ST. PAUL’S, MAGNOLIA SPRINGS, ON SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2024.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The Gospel call is to a life of sacrifice and humility, and not a cudgel to overwhelm those we perceive as enemies.

 

 

            The gospel lesson from Mark has Jesus in the northern region of Israel, in the community of Caesarea Philippi, teaching his disciples with these words:

 

“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

 

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            Tim Alberta is the son of an evangelical Christian pastor. He has written a book entitled, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory – familiar words borrowed from the Lord’s Prayer.

 

            The book is a 400-page withering critique of the world he knows well – the evangelical church in America.  He questions its embrace of hard-right conspiracies and the politics which go along with those conspiracies. All of this displacing the gospel.

 

            He contends that the evangelical movement has discarded the essential teachings of Jesus in pursuit of conquering the culture, the nation, and the world. Power has become the primary motivator behind that movement. Conquest at all costs. No matter what principals must be sacrificed.

 

            His words are an exhaustive and valid critique. He supports them with in-depth illustrations from coast-to-coast. Much of the evangelical church has lost its way.

 

            But I’m here to say we have, too.  It is not just our evangelical brothers and sisters who have gone astray.

 

            We support a mainstream religion which comforts all and offends none. It does not challenge us or our culture. I recall when we, as a church, were proud to have four members of the Supreme Court and a President. We saw ourselves as the established church. We were interested in dominating culture, too. Those were heady times.

 

            It is important to remember that Christianity started as a profoundly counter-cultural movement. Outside of culture. In opposition to established religion. Our messiah butted heads with religious leaders. He fed the hungry. He ate with sinners and tax collectors.  He forgave prostitutes. He said his kingdom is “not of this world.” He died a criminal’s death.

 

            He taught us that true faith is practiced with welcoming the alien, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, forgiving again and again and again, being humble, sacrificing and not conquering.

 

            Christianity is a way of being not a means of conquest. Our kingdom, our true home, Jesus tells us, is not of this world.

 

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            I have long contended that the church went off the tracks when Emperor Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the Roman Empire in 313 AD.

 

            From that time has flowed catastrophes such as the Crusades, the Inquisition, the religious upheavals and wars in Europe, the Salem Witch Trials and others.

 

            It is time, once again, for the church to be a movement outside of the culture, and not a movement to conquerculture. 

 

            If the world is to be changed (and it will), it will be by our example. As the hymn says, “They will know we are Christians by our love.” Our power is in forgiveness. Our gift is generosity. Our currency is love… for everyone.

 

            We should be prepared to sacrifice, not win… to take up our cross and follow Jesus.

 

Testimony Down Through the Millennia

PROPERS: 12 PENTECOST, YEAR B

TEXT:       1 KINGS 19:4-8   

PREACHED AT TRINITY, MOBILE, ON SUNDAY, AUGUST 11, 2024.

 

ONE SENTENCE:        The wonder of God’s movement is recounted again and again in the stories of faith history.       

 

            Three weeks ago, I participated in the ordination and consecration of the Reverend Dr. Dorothy Wells Sanders as the XI Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Mississippi.

 

            It was a remarkable day for a number of reasons.  A fresh start for my home diocese. New leadership. And the consecration of the first African American woman as the Bishop of Mississippi.

 

            More than a thousand people participated in the joyous service. For me, one of the high points, was the sermon by the Reverend Teresa Frye Brown, Bandy Professor of Preaching at Candler School of Theology in Atlanta.

 

            Dr. Frye Brown’s sermon got me thinking. Those reflections have ruminated and rattled through my mind in the past three weeks. I wonder: Do we sometimes lose sight of the forest because we are focused on the trees?

 

            Our lectionary is partially responsible. Each week, we focus on particular passages of scripture. And the cycle repeats every three years. Today we are focusing on Proper 14, Year B.

 

            Part of the responsibility of our limited vision is the ease with which we hear these passages. We dismiss them as soon as we walk out the door of the church.

 

            I have long contended that the story of scripture is much greater than the sum of its combined parts. While we may focus on a single story… a parable… or pericope, we lose sight of the truth that flows through the recollections of 66 books – beginning with Genesis and ending with Revelation.

 

            Dr. Frye Brown reminded me of that fact. She said we need to remember that throughout history, God has done amazing things.

 

            Today we focus on a brief passage having to do with the Old Testament prophet Elijah.  It is said that Elijah is the second greatest figure of the Old Testament – second only to Moses.

 

            We have a tiny fragment of Elijah’s story today; the miraculous appearance of a cake of bread and a jar of water – brought to him in the wilderness by the hands of an angel.

 

            That’s profound enough. But reviewing the whole span of Elijah’s ministry, we see him bringing about the surprising work of God again and again.  He does so against all odds and all enemies – bringing judgement and new life in his wake.

 

            He is finally taken up to heaven outside of Jericho by fiery horses as his successor cries out, “My father, my father! The chariots of Israel and their horsemen!”

 

            That’s just the story of Elijah. Read it and be amazed. But over the thousands of pages of scripture we see again and again God’s surprising movement through history. The creation of the world, however it came to be. The gift of a child to an old man and woman and the birth of a covenant. The first Passover in bondage in Egypt.  The liberation of a captive people.  The stunning scene of the Red Sea divided so the Hebrews can go through on dry land.

 

            The gift of manna in the wilderness – a story we heard last week. A young boy slaying a mighty warrior with a slingshot and a rock. On and on. Daniel facing lions. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego walking through a furnace without being singed.

 

            And that’s just a portion of the first 39 books of scripture. Look at the stories of the last 27 books – the New Testament.  A miraculous birth. A young rabbi raising the dead.  Turning water into wine. Feeding 5,000 people with five barley loaves and two fish. Calming the sea in a storm. Casting demons into a herd of swine. Standing silent before the power of Rome… going to his death… and rising from the grave.

 

            And that does not even touch the wonderful stories of Paul, the greatest Christian missionary.

 

            The 21^st Century mind might dispute these and say they are not true or that they never really happened.  Fair enough.

 

            But think of this:  These stories reflect the way people for 4,000 years have experienced the God we worship today. They have told and written these stories again and again… around campfires… with other searchers… in synagogues… and in churches over the millennia.  

 

            Who are we to question the truth which flows through these ancient stories?

 

            Instead, we should anticipate that same God’s movement in our own lives. 

Need versus Wants

PROPERS: 11 PENTECOST, YEAR B

TEXT:       EXODUS 16:2-4, 9-15; JOHN 6:24-35

PREACHED AT TRINITY, MOBILE, ON SUNDAY, AUGUST 4, 2024.

                   

ONE SENTENCE:        Our needs today are to be touched by God.   

 

The Israelites were angry.  Today, we would say they were hangry – both hungry and angry.

 

Moses had led them out of the relative security of Egypt. Sure, they had been slaves.  Yes, they had tasted the lash from harsh taskmasters.  And they had had to make bricks without straw.  But, as they said elsewhere, “we ate our fill of garlic and leeks.”

 

They had left all that behind for this.

 

This was the wilderness of Sinai.  I’ve been there.  It is harsh – a desert that is barren, rocky, and without any resources. They could not go down the street to McDonald’s. They were hot, dusty, tired, thirsty, and hungry. Understandably.

 

It is to that bitter deficit that the Lord brought his next wonder – manna.  Each morning, a flakey-like substance would appear on the ground.  The people would gather all they could eat for the day.  It would not keep to the next. What was needed for that day would be provided.

 

And there was more.  In the evening, the camp would be covered with quail.  The people would eat meat each day.  Their needs would be met.

 

Genuine needs being met.  The Wilderness was being tamed. God had responded. The essentials were provided.

 

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            That is the Old Testament reading, from Exodus. Consider now the gospel reading – from John.

 

            Jesus has miraculously fed the multitude – some 5,000 people, aided only by a boy with five barley loaves and two fish. The multitude’s hunger had been sated – at least for the time being.

 

            Having fed and taught the people gathered on the hillside, Jesus was done. He got in a small boat and traveled a short distance to regain some privacy. But it was not to be.

 

            Portions of the crowd had followed him. They wanted more – more bread, more fish.  Even though their basic needs had been met, they wanted more.

 

            Jesus knew better.  “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.”  The bread which he now offered was different – it would fill the soul, not the gut.

 

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            I wonder how many of us can really identify with the Israelites in the wilderness, being truly hungry?  And I wonder how many of us identify with the people of Galilee, yearning for more, though their essential needs had been met?

 

            We have gotten confused over the years – needs versus wants. There is a difference, and it is well-represented by these two snapshots from scripture. I suspect that most of us confuse our wants with our needs.

 

            What we offer here – at this table – responds to our needs. As Jesus said, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” 

 

            It is that sacred bread which we consume again and again – nestled in our heartfelt prayers – that can address our hearts’ needs and thirsts.  This little morsel of bread, consumed in our hearts and wrapped in our prayers, can begin to address our needs.

 

            The people who followed Jesus across the sea said, “Sir, give us this bread always.”