With Abundant Gratitude
November 17, 2024 - Matthew 14: 13-21
In the middle of the wilderness Jesus asked his disciples to feed over 5,000 people. The disciples said, “we have here only five loaves of bread and two fish.” He couldn’t expect them to feed over 5,000 people with that could he? But he did. “[He took] the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples and the disciples gave them to the people” (14: 19b).
Limits are part of this human life it seems to me. There is even a limit to the number of days we have to draw breath in these mortal bodies. There is certainly a limit to the amount of food in our kitchens, cupboards, or refrigerators. Some of us feel some of these limits more keenly than others. Yet, biblical scholar Walter Bruggeman teaches that both testaments of the Bible are full of stories of God turning limits into generous abundance.
When the Israelites wander hungry in the wilderness, God provides manna, bread that materializes each morning like the dew on the ground. In Psalm 23, God the Good Shepherd leads followers through the darkest valley to an abundantly set table with an overflowing cup. In both the old and new testaments, God gives children to barren couples. In today’s story Jesus takes, blesses, breaks, and shares a limited amount of bread and fish to feed over five thousand people. And the text says when “all ate and were satisfied, the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over.” This is because, Bruggeman claims, God is a God of abundance. While I suspect Bruggeman would agree that the limits and suffering of this life are very real, he argues believing there is “not enough” is a dangerous way to live.
Believing there is “not enough” leads us into the trap of needing to hoard all the good things to ourselves and always try to get more and more and more,[1] which ends up hurting everyone, even us. It’s like my friend, who when his mom once and awhile brought home a six pack of soda in glass bottles as a treat, would sneak off with that entire six-pack as soon as he could, sit down, and drink every single one. Afterward he would be, as he would say, “sicker than a dog.”
When Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and shares it with everyone in this text I hear again the words of institution from the practice of communion. I am not sure but I am not willing to rule out that Jesus miraculously turned five loaves of bread and two fish into food more than enough to satisfy more than 5,000 people. Yet, I also wonder about the miracle that happened in the hearts of the crowd when Jesus stood before them, took, blessed, broke, and shared the limited amount of food he had been given. Perhaps that act opened up the hearts of those more than five thousand who likely would have traveled with their own food to share their little bits with each other and find that each little bit put together made for an abundant feast with twelve baskets full of leftovers. However the miracle happened, I believe those four actions--take, bless, break, share-- revealed the truth that God is a God not of scarcity but of enoughness, of more than enough.
I believe the God we follow is indeed the God of abundance. I believe that abundance can be found and known no matter what limits, changes, or uncertainty we may face, because the love of the God of abundance knows no limits of suffering, evil, or even death. Moreover, I believe those four actions, take, bless, break, share have the miraculous power within them to unleash the holy presence of the living God of abundance, turning what may seem like so little into enough to feed a multitude. Except one of those actions isn’t quite right.
In today’s story it doesn’t say he took, blessed, broke, and shared. It says he took the bread and gave thanks. He gave thanks for the little bit of bread they had. He looked at their limited amount and expressed gratitude. Even neurobiologists today are astounded when they study what happens to the brain when humans express gratitude. The regular expression of gratitude has a strong correlation with quick physical healing, significantly lessened depression, and strengthened social bonds.
Gratitude I believe changes our perspective. It doesn’t take away the sting of the loss of a loved one but it can allow us to rejoice in the time that we shared. It doesn’t give us all the money in the world but it can allow us to see what we have as a treasure. It doesn’t cover up suffering and injustice but it can give us the strength we need to rise up. Perhaps it is the presence of God as known in the powerful force of gratitude that turns our limits into more than enough. Perhaps it is the presence of God as known in the powerful force of gratitude that gives us the courage to open our hands which can be so tightly closed around the good things in our grasp in order to share generously with others.
It takes faith to open those tightly closed hands. It takes faith to open our tightly closed hearts. It takes faith to allow for enough gratitude to see that whatever we have to give becomes more than enough in the presence of God. For God will take, bless, break, and share what we have given and turn those gifts into enough--into more than enough.
In the very next story that follows today’s story, we find Jesus walking on water and inviting the disciples to join him. Peter does. He gets out of the boat. He doesn’t do so well as Jesus. Maybe it takes practice. But maybe he’s able to do it at all because the practice of sharing from his own limited resources and watching God turn it into more than enough has given him enough faith to get out of the boat.
Have any of you seen the video short out of Canada titled “Eat Together?” it opens with a young woman who sighs as she finds herself brushed by in the lobby of her apartment complex and ignored in the crowded but silent elevator, her face alone looks up as all others look down at tiny, glowing screens. Even as she enters her apartment she is ignored by her headphone wearing roommate who doesn’t even seem to notice when the young woman throws down her bag and keys in exasperation. But in the next scene both roommates come out into the narrow hallway dragging a long skinny table. They bring out chairs, table settings, food, and drinks. They smile awkwardly at each other. They’ve just done something truly weird. They’ve set up dinner in the middle of a hall where it seems strangers live side-by-side. In a moment the elevator dings open releasing a little girl and her family into the hallway, who at the child’s leading join enthusiastically in the all prepared hallway dinner. In the next scene apartment doors open and heads appear, checking out the commotion. Soon more people join, bringing more food, and more tables and more chairs, stretching down the corridor. The camera shows folks of different skin colors and wearing different religious dress then pans to the little girl who is now crawling under the table to get to the end of the hallway where she knocks on the last door. An older man appears, hears her, and then shuts the door. But in a moment, he reappears with a bottle of wine and a broad smile, as he is welcomed by the cheers of his feasting neighbors. In the background a woman sings an updated version of the song, “What the world needs now is love sweet love. It’s the only thing there’s just too little of.”
Dear Highland Avenue Church, you have more than a little love to give to the world and each other. You inspire me with your big hearts and your ever broadening sense of community. What is the wild idea you have? What is it you want to try? What is it you want to give? What is it you want to see the church give, do, or be? No, we’re not the biggest church in the city. No, we’re not perfect people or a perfect church. But I believe when we offer, give thanks for, break, and share what we have to give God will take it and perhaps do something with it we never even expected, somehow turning it into enough--into much, much more than enough.
May it be so. Amen.
[1] Walter Bruggeman. “The liturgy of abundance, the myth of scarcity” The Christian Century. March 24, 1999, 342-353.
