We Have Nothing Here But . . .

Text: Matthew 14: 13-21

I hear there’s a new version of “Let’s Make a Deal,” the television game show originally hosted, during my childhood, by Monty Hall.  Does anyone remember how Monty Hall used to ask members of the crazily costumed studio audience if they happened to be carrying certain odd items in their purses or pockets?  “I’ll give you $50 if you have a pack of playing cards in your purse,” Monty Hall would tell a woman dressed like Little Bo Peep.  “Do you have a dog leash with you?  A bottle opener?” he’d ask other members of the audience, continuing up the aisle.  Sometimes the audience members would dig out the requested weird item and be rewarded with a wad of cash. And start jumping up and down and hugging the host.

Let’s play a version of “Let’s Make a Deal.”  I’ll give a prize to the first person who can find in pocket or purse . . . an aspirin or other legal pain reliever. . . something edible . . .  a flashlight or other source of illumination . . . a quotation or picture that inspires you.

 People receive small prizes when they show the objects. 

It seems we brought with us today more than we thought we had.  If we pool our resources, we’ll be able to deal with a range of challenges—pain, hungers, periods of darkness, a need for inspiration.  We can meet quite a few needs together that we might not be able to handle on our own.

I love the children’s story, “Stone Soup,” where hungry travelers convince poor villagers to contribute just ONE small ingredient to the communal pot of “stone soup” so that all have something good to eat.  I love the way the story of Jesus feeding the multitude—the only miracle story told in all four Gospels—reminds us that sharing is the miracle that creates community and justice.  Did you notice that miracle began when Jesus's followers resisted their tendency to say, “We have NOTHING here.”  The miracle began with the word but.  “We have nothing here  . . .  BUT . . . five loaves and two fishes” (v. 17), the disciples said.  The magical word that started the miracle is not abracadabra or alakazam.  It’s but.  “We have nothing here BUT five loaves and two fishes”  changed “nothing” into “something” and opened them up to the More that is God. 

I don’t want to strip this story down to an aphorism about accentuating the positive. I won’t reduce it to a morality tale about sharing.  It is that and more. Because there’s also something we can’t quite explain in this story, as Mary Oliver’s poem recognizes. What some scholars call a parable in action and others a foreshadowing of the last supper and a Eucharistic image is more than those categories—more than the categories of mystery or reality.  It is more.  It is about the very More-ness of God.

Hear the poem “Logos” again. But first a word about the title.  The Greek word logos means word—but it was also a complex, evolving philosophical concept meaning something like “the source of wisdom and force of creation” or “the logic of the universe” or the “ordering principle that holds the world together” and was used by the Gospel of John as a name for Jesus Christ. 

Logos by Mary Oliver

Why worry about the loaves and fishes?
If you say the right words, the wine expands.
If you say them with love
and the felt ferocity of that love
and the felt necessity of that love,
the fish explode into many.
Imagine him, speaking,
and don’t worry about what is reality,
or what is plain, or what is mysterious.
If you were there, it was all those things.
If you can imagine it, it is all those things.
Eat, drink, be happy.
Accept the miracle.
Accept, too, each spoken word
spoken with love.*

Don’t worry about assigning one meaning to the miracle.  It can have both a logical explanation and it can remain mystery.  But tell it with love.  And accept it . . .  by eating, drinking, being happy.

Our job today is not to put a definitive meaning on this story.  However, on this morning when we’ve followed Jesus to a new place, have traipsed up here to Midtown to hear what he might say to us . . . as we gather at the Open Table with our own hungers, I wonder if we are looking around this “crowd” and worrying that our own collective resources here are meager.  Like the disciples, some of us might be worrying, “We have nothing here.”  Or not much.  We’re few in number.  None of us is powerful or wealthy.  Thank goodness we’re ALL good looking!  But as we dream of ways we can work for peace and justice, let’s not tell ourselves that “we have nothing here.”

In this time of new beginnings, let us recognize that we have something here that can be life changing and community transforming.  We have something here that can be the start of more and more.  Even if we BEGIN by saying, “We have nothing here,” we can then pause as we imagine all that this rare and amazing faith community can bring to the Table.  Then we can finish the sentence this way: “We have nothing here but loaves and fishes”—which is something that the Spirit of the More can multiply for the needs of the world. 

In our 9:30 Adult Forum this morning we continued our conversation about a focal social justice effort Open Table might contribute to or create. Certainly we want to be realistic about what resources are required for particular ventures and what resources we can reasonably expect to contribute before committing to some existing or brand new social justice effort in our city.  We must be realistic because others will count on us to fulfill our commitments.

But let’s not underestimate ourselves.  Five loves and two fishes are not as meager as they first appear.  When love is spoken and God blesses and people realize all they carry with them—we have more than we think.

Reach into your spiritual pockets and purses.  What did you bring with you today?  If, in Monty Hall mode, I were to ask who brought with them a desire to address the root causes of social ills, concern for those on the margins, or experience speaking out against injustice-- would you raise your hand?  If I walked to your chair and asked if you brought with you today an ability to problem solve or a capacity to listen to folks who’ve been ignored or a willingness to be stretched in some new ways--   would you jump up and down and shout Yes!” and strangle me with a hug?   If I asked you if you had with you a little bit of time or money or influence or talent you’d be willing to share with the world out there--would you reach into those spiritual pockets and purses and pull out a commitment to use some of your seemingly meager resources for our congregational effort?  Would you add a bit of bread or a fish to a feast we hope to share with others? 

So many of us are spread very thin.  We’re all having to decide how much energy to devote to this good project or that. But this faith community might be just the place for you to bring what you have to a common purpose, to make your contributions count, to do a new thing that will not be accomplished otherwise. 

Lest you think the story of Jesus feeding the multitude is a simple story about magical solutions to big problems like feeding hungry people, let me remind you of the context for this miracle.  The transition sentence that links the previous story to the beginning of today’s story starts this way: “When Jesus heard THIS, he withdrew from there . . . .”  The “this” that Jesus had just heard about was news that John the Baptist, his kinsman and mentor, had been beheaded.  John’s criticism of King Herod had cost him his life. Jesus must have been devastated.  He needed to withdraw for awhile—perhaps to grieve, to reconsider his commitments to a path that might lead to his own execution, to pray and rest from a demanding ministry. 

But the crowds kept after him with their unrelenting needs.  Jesus couldn’t turn them away.  Matthew says, “He looked on them with compassion” (v. 14).  And returned to his work of healing the sick.  And then, at day’s end, fed them.  This story is not about Jesus popping in to do magic tricks like a fairly godmother.  There’s a high cost to pay for living compassionately.

Your contributions of time and talent and money and skills and ideas and compassion, combined with others’ gifts, will not necessarily right a wrong, mend a heart, or change a faulty system.  Your hard work within a faith community like ours will not always be easy or make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  There’s no guarantee that our efforts will produce some sustainable, effective means of reducing injustice or creating peace at some noticeable level. 

So why would you offer to share the bread and fish YOU had the good sense to bring with you?  Why would you join in a collaborative venture where you might have to compromise and deal with diverse personalities?

My partial answer (maybe not yours): We work as a community because our diversity is a strength and we experience God among us.  We should tackle problems others aren’t willing to address because we can and because if we don’t try, nothing will change.  And because in trying, we believe that at least WE might change and grow.

What did you bring with you that could be used to feed hungers and heal hurts? 

Let’s make a deal:  If we give God our bit of bread and fish, we’ll trust God to bless what we share and make more of it than we could have made of it alone. 

We have NOTHING here BUT the resources God has given us to see where God is at work in the world and to join in that work.  We may have brought to this new place more than we’ve realized.  Thanks be to God!

* Oliver, Mary.  "Logos" in Why I Wake Early (Boston: Beacon Press, 2004).