Bread of Heaven

by Sharon Marr

(Based on John 6:24-35, and the just released report of the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care)

Every three years, the lectionary invites us — or forces us! — to spend five long weeks in John’s Gospel, contemplating Jesus’s self-description as “the bread of life,” or “the bread which comes down from heaven”.  It’s a daunting business, to stay with one metaphor for so long.  After all, bread is bread, right?  What earthly thing could be more basic and simple? Actually, in our house that’s not quite true, because as far as our family is concerned nothing compares with Grandad Albie’s homemade bread.  In fact we can usually count on the neighbourhood whanau joining us for lunch during the holidays. 

However,  as far as its spiritual implications go, we know that Jesus fed the multitudes with bread, we believe he’s mysteriously present at the communion table, and we generally agree that Christians should donate to food banks or volunteer in soup kitchens.  What else is there to understand?
Nothing.
Because understanding is not the issue. 

Growing up, I was taught that being a Christian meant understanding and believing the right things.  To accept Jesus was to affirm a set of doctrines about who Jesus is and what he accomplished through his death and resurrection.  To enter into orthodox faith was to agree that certain theological thoughts about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the human condition, the Bible, and the Church, were true. 

But for me, many years ago now, I found that I was being so overwhelmed by words and doctrines that the Jesus I had come to love as a child was disappearing down the road and I was mourning that I wasn’t there beside him holding his hand any longer.
The blessing for me came in the shape of a lovely woman visiting from Vanuatu who looked into my heart, without any words, then said – go back to the faith of your childhood. 

We need to listen to Jesus, who tells us very carefully and continuously in the readings we’re lingering over at this time to Believe in me, Learn from me, or even Follow me.  We notice he doesn’t bother with Understand me.  He says something far more intimate and provocative when he calls himself our bread.  He says, I am the bread of life; come to me and never be hungry or thirsty again. 
What’s really at stake in this strange invitation is whether or not to move past religion … and into relationship.  Past thought … and into communion.  Past self-sufficiency and … into radical, whole-life dependence on a God we can taste, but never control.  Jesus invites the crowds to recognize the hungers beneath their hungers.  Of course they’re hungry for literal bread; they’re poor, food is scarce, and they need to feed themselves and their families.  There’s nothing wrong or ‘unspiritual’ about their physical hunger — remember, Jesus tends to their bodily needs first, without reservation or pre-conditions.  But he doesn’t stop there.  Instead, he asks the crowds to probe the deeper soul hungers that drive them restlessly into his presence — hungers that only the “bread of heaven” can satisfy.

What are those underlying hungers?  Answering for myself, here’s my list:  a hunger for meaning and purpose.  A longing for connection, communion, and love.  A desire to know and to be known, deeply and authentically.   A hunger for joy, and for engagement with the world in all its complexity, mystery and beauty.  And an ongoing need for healing, wholeness and fullness of life.

That’s my list right now.  What’s yours?

And so importantly at this time, what hunger would our Abuse Survivors (highlighted in the Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care) want satisfied? A hunger to be heard? A hunger for justice, a hunger to be believed, a hunger for wrongs to be put right, a hunger for apology and words of regret, a hunger for wholeness and healing … mostly, I sense, a deep cry from these abused hearts of a hunger to see change: no more, no more, no more!

Of course, it’s one thing to name our hungers, but quite another to trust that Jesus will satisfy them; especially if you were one of over 200,000 men, women and children who believed they were in a place that would love, help, cure, educate and nurture them only to find that – whilst the love of Jesus may have been preached – the bread they received in the name of God was in fact as worthless as dust, a rod for their back. Their experience instead brought a sense of worthlessness, brokenness and, in some cases, death.

We as a country are in a time of mourning, or should be, for our failure to provide a safe, caring and nurturing environment for all those who have a right to expect and to receive such care.  It is a nationwide shame.  At least fifty children have been killed since Oranga Tamariki was created – and half of them had a record with the agency before they died. According to UNICEF, New Zealand has one of the worst rates of child abuse in the developed world. The level of abuse is the fifth-highest in the OECD, with an average of one child being killed every five weeks and 150,000 cases reported every year by Oranga Tamariki.   On average 50,000 women and children are referred to Women’s Refuge each year, and staff answer 71 crisis calls each day. And, as more than 67 per cent of family violence goes unreported, the figures do not show the full severity of the situation.  What can we do?

We can listen.  We can be active in our listening and be prepared to seek help when someone is in danger. We may not be able to help ourselves but we can bring it to the attention of someone who can.  The worst thing we can do is … nothing! 

There are many different kinds of abuse and many helplines are available. (There is a large list at the back of the church.) If you think someone is in immediate danger of being harmed or may harm themselves, call the Police.
We can support financially some of the (helpline and support) groups.  We can pray for them all.  Dear Family, it is right for us to mourn, to grieve with those who have lost so much.  And it is well and truly time for change.  Jesus came to change.  Will we be changed? We know that the words Jesus brings are the bread of life. But we must remember they are words we live by, not words we use to make others live the way we feel they should.  The bread of life Jesus brings fulfils all hunger, and so fed by the one who God sent, our belief overflows as love and becomes the Word in action – His will, His actions, not ours.  May we absorb this bread.  Then share it.
May its nourishment flood us through and through until we are changed and, like Jesus, become life-saving bread for the whole world.

Celebrating Family

by Barry Pollard

(Based on I Cor 12:12-31)

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians should give us all heart and hope today! Essentially it is saying that all of us together are ‘Christ’s body’, and each of us is a unique part of it. It didn’t exclude anyone of us. It didn’t try to identify us as any particular part. It simply says that all of us together are Christ’s body, and each of us is a part of it.

I know, those of you who listened attentively through the entire reading will want to draw our attention to the list of the parts specifically appointed for the church: apostles, prophets, teachers, miracle-workers, healers, helpers, leaders, and those who speak and interpret unknown languages. And, yes, I’ll grant that these parts are vital to the collective church; but you are still in the family even if you do not recognise that you have, or are using, any of these special gifts and talents.
We are all parts of the body of Christ, Paul says, because we have all been baptised into one body by one Spirit, and we all share that same Spirit. Different, but with many similarities. One great big family of God!

As we are celebrating families today, I’d like to share a little about my own. I have three biological brothers and a biological sister. We all acknowledge another unrelated ‘brother’, a kid who grew up with us in Tokoroa. As migrant families in the 1950s, all relatives were left behind when our parents crossed the globe for better prospects. Close family friends became our relations.
Our childhood was characterised by the notion of getting ahead in life, obviously a common theme among a population that was drawn together for that very reason. We grew up in a time and place when parents allowed children to get on. Many of our fathers were shift workers at Kinleith and so shooing the kids off to play, anywhere but home, was an imperative. And from a child’s perspective, what parents didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Our childhood was one of high adventure, a little danger and much about looking after yourself.

As we grew up it was expected that we would find after-school jobs. My eldest brother Ed started an after-school job at Spear’s Garage at the age of eleven, starting out sweeping and tidying the workshop, but also learning and developing what would become his lifelong passion: all things mechanical. Next brother Stu washed medicine bottles for the local chemist before getting a job as a school cleaner when he went to high school. Nepotism was alive and well in those days: Stu opened the door for me to become a cleaner when I got to high school a few years later.

You may notice no mention of the sister and youngest brother. They were the ‘littlies’ and were too young to be working and by time they were, the big boys were at university and the family owned a general store in Papakura. We all worked in it. Needless to say we all ended up with a pretty strong work ethic. And as adults, between us we have worked in engineering, law, education, banking, horticulture and building.

The shared experiences of growing up and the input of our parents were responsible for shaping us for life after childhood. And today we all look back with fondness and gratitude on that upbringing. Yet, despite having shared so much together, we are all unique. Our starts may have been similar but our current states of affair are not. Like many other families, I suspect, we have our struggles: health issues, alcohol, relationships and marriages.

Despite these issues, and incidents over the past seven decades, we haven’t fallen apart. The glue of family is still strong enough to draw us together as a group to support one another.
Our latest such gathering was travelling in a minivan to our old stamping grounds, in and around Tokoroa. We laughed a lot and cried a little as we remembered people, places and events that were special to us in that time and space.
At no time in my life have I ever felt apart from my siblings. I haven’t always approved of, or got involved with, what they were doing, who they were seeing, or how they were behaving, but they were always family. Nothing said, or left unsaid, upset our relationships. We were always there for each other if needed.

I can’t pretend to know your family stories. I don’t know if your story is one of joy or hurt. But I do know that whatever it was, or is, God’s plan for his family supersedes it. Paul explained, and we have come to know, that God’s grace is enough for us to be acceptable and whole. When he listed the parts of the church that he has appointed for its success, I see “the helper” as the bottom line. Not all of us have the gifts given to the apostles, prophets, teachers, etc. But any of us has it within us to help others. To help is to love. And Jesus said to love one another as he has loved us! To love is to turn our faces from looking inwards to looking outwards.

As a member of the family of God you are disposed to becoming more like Christ, day by day becoming better. Remember we have all been baptised into one body by one shared Spirit. Each of us is important. Each of us is unique. But when one suffers, we all suffer. When one rejoices, we all rejoice. We bear each other’s burdens and celebrate each other’s victories.
Living in the family of God, we have calls to action. We need to identify and reflect on our spiritual gifts: how can we better use them for the benefit of the church. We need to embrace the diversity within and across church communities, recognising the valuable contributions each person or church group brings to God’s table. We need to commit to supporting, encouraging and praying for fellow believers, especially the overlooked or struggling. We need to seek opportunities to work together in unity, looking for ways to use our diverse talents and perspectives to advance God’s kingdom.

So Brothers and Sisters, may we always walk in unity, love, and mutual respect, and be witnesses to the transformative power of Christ in our midst.

Practics:
During this combined service (St Francis Church and Tairua Elim Church) we discussed the hallmarks of good families and churches. In no particular order we came up with the following practical suggestions:

Giving time and attention to each other
Making and maintaining relationships
Connecting wherever possible
Being supportive of each other
Being comfortable to laugh and cry together
Being vulnerable with one another
Helping each other
Appreciating and utilising our diversity
Preparing us for the world
Tolerance, respect and forgiveness

Gut-wrenching Compassion

by Pat Lee

(Based on Mark 6:30-34, 53-56; Jer 23:1-6; Eph 2:11-22)

The Gospel reading set down for today is two smaller texts put together. The first one comes after Herod’s promise to Herodias resulting in the beheading of John the Baptist, and the second one follows ‘the feeding of the five thousand’, and is immediately before the text on Jesus walking on the water, when they eventually arrived at Gennesaret.

Reading the other texts for today, and researching on the internet, I found a connection between the two ‘smaller texts’ that I had previously missed. God is always so patient with us when we fail to see what he is wanting us to see! Today, that connection is compassion.
The (unnamed) author of one sermon I read says, “On most occasions, the texts for today are seen as an introduction and an afterthought. But today’s lectionary calls them into focus, and for good reason, as they reveal to us in an intimate way a Jesus who is compassionate and overflowing with power.”

“As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without  a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things”.

There are many references in the Bible to our being like sheep. Some of them say that we are like sheep without a shepherd or that we have been scattered by those who were meant to be our shepherds. There are a lot of people who don’t like being compared with sheep, but I’m sure that God knew exactly what he was doing by making the comparison.
I decided to look up the traits of sheep and this what I found …
Sheep are intelligent, with impressive memory and recognition skills. They build friendships, stick up for one another in fights, and feel sad when their friends are sent to slaughter. Sheep are able to feel emotions such as fear, anger, rage, despair, boredom, disgust and happiness.  How like us! I thought.


However, sometimes sheep are quite obstinate and stupid. If you have ever been on a muster, you will know that they will try to run all over the place instead of getting into a group and going where the musterer wants them; hence the need to use plenty of good dogs who will bring them under control. And, sometimes they will also turn and stamp in defiance. Don’t these things sound much like us? And just like sheep, we need a good shepherd too.

When Michael and I were on our honeymoon in the South Island in 1964, we went on the Earnslaw on Lake Wakatipu. It didn’t go just to Walter Peak Station in those days, but went right down the lake delivering mail, groceries and – as on the day we went – sheep. We stopped at several private piers along the way, eventually coming to the one where the sheep were to get off.
All the passengers stood along the deck watching the procedure. I think the crew thought it was going to be an easy exercise, but the sheep had a different idea. There seemed to be no way that they were going down that gangway. As they got close, looking as if they would go, they would turn, jumping over each other and going back as far as they could. However, eventually one brave sheep decided to go, and then the rest followed, and two or three went into the lake in their haste to get back on dry land.

Isn’t that a just like humans? Have you ever been to a function when food is offered and everyone hangs back waiting for some brave soul to make the first move.

The prophet Jeremiah lived about six hundred years before the birth of Christ, but we hear him (in today’s reading) talking about shepherds who have scattered the sheep and that the Lord will gather the remnant of his flock and bring them back into the fold. That shepherd was Jesus. He would not only bring back the ones who had been scattered, but also bring others into the fold, those who were once strangers and aliens (as the writer to the Ephesians puts it).

Returning to the Gospel, let’s take a closer look at the disciples. They have just returned from their ‘sending out’. In fact, the word used to describe them, apostles, means ‘the ones sent’, and this is the first time they were given that title. They were telling Jesus all about the things they had been doing and teaching, but Jesus saw immediately that they were weary and worn out, needing time away from the hustle and bustle, as they had had no leisure or even time to eat. So Jesus suggested they get into the boat and go to a deserted place where they could rest. (A reminder to us we still need today.)

However, people in the crowd had recognized them and saw them going, so they hurried on foot and arrived ahead of them. If you’d been one of the weary disciples, seeing this assembled crowd, how would you have felt? Disappointed? Probably a little angry and upset.

Another unnamed author asks, “What would you have done? Would you have turned the boat around and looked for anther quiet place to be alone with your friends? Would you have told the crowds to go away and let you have some time for yourself? Or would you have laid down in the boat and hidden your head under a blanket until everyone had gone away?”
All very human responses, I think.

But Jesus saw the crowd too and instead of anger, he had compassion. This word compassion is not a word synonymous with pity, as it is sometimes used in our language. The word for compassion in this text means that Jesus felt it, literally translated, in his bowels, or, as we might say, gut-wrenching. This is the kind of compassion that suffers alongside those who are tired and worn down by oppression, sin and illness. Jesus sacrifices his own need for rest, for the sake of others finding rest. The passage forces us to believe simultaneously in a God who calls us to rest, yet willingly gives up his own rest for others.

The unnamed author adds, “What surprises me about this story is what Jesus did to help the people he saw. When people are moved by compassion, we might expect them to cook someone a meal, make a donation to a charity or something else just as practical. Jesus didn’t do any of these. Instead, moved with compassion towards this crowd of people, he began to teach them.”

We are not told what he taught them, but we are told that he healed many of them as well, even when they only touched the fringe of his garment.

Whatever is happening in our lives, this story tells us that Jesus looks at each of us with gut-wrenching compassion, and teaches us a better way of life. Maybe we need to stop for a bit, recognize that despite our best efforts, we’re all a little lost, and listen with fresh ears to the teachings of Jesus.

Faith and Pharmacy

By Dr Liz Young

(Based on Mark 5:21-43; 2 Cor 8:7-15)

The worship team decided I should preach today as the Gospel reading has two medical themes: prolonged menstrual bleeding and dying.  The words Jesus spoke to the woman with prolonged bleeding, “Your faith has made you whole,” are heart-warming; and they resonate with me because although discoveries in the past hundred years have changed our thoughts about doctors, from potentially being quacks to being miracle workers, I am all too aware that pharmacy can only do so much.  Unless a person wishes to be well, and trusts that they can heal, they won’t heal. Antibiotics are marvelous and cure 90% of an infection, but the body has to do the rest.

As a medical student at the end of the seventies, I spent six weeks in the Transkei in South Africa where it was accepted that if a witch doctor wanted you to die, you would, frightened to death. This belief was very effective, and I can’t help but compare it to our contemporary unbelief, our cynicisms and our rationalisations.  And then, with a twist, my thoughts move to the faith of the bleeding woman, who knew that if she could only touch Jesus’s garment, he would heal her. This story prompts me to ponder on how all our intellectual knowledge has diminished our ability to believe in irrational miracles. I find I often look for a rational explanation of Jesus miracles: like the feeding of the five thousand: did everybody who could, snatch up a snack as they hurriedly packed up to follow Jesus into the countryside?  For me the miracle was that everyone joyfully shared their picnic on that hillside. But the bleeding woman – did Jesus melt away her fibroid?  Or was it a hormonal problem such as hypothyroidism, that having been mentally restored to health her body automatically restored itself?

What links our readings today?
The importance of faith.
The phrase from Corinthians that intrigues me is, “the one who gathered much did not have too much and the one who gathered little did not have too little,” which got reflected in my commentary to, “Christ gave out of nothing, not from abundance”.  I’ve been blessed with abundance, both mentally and materially, and I try to be truly thankful everyday.  It’s a practice I use to stave off depression, and it works. As I wake I lie in bed and look out and marvel at the dawn, the sun rising out of the ocean – the point of which will be moving south each day from now on. In the evening I come in from the garden, relax with 100mls of wine and water (following Socrates and the breast cancer society’s recommendations) and watch The Chase on TV, all enjoyable habits.

When you’re down, you tend not to say thank you, because you’re so immersed in feeling sorry for yourself.
I recommend when you are feeling down, stop doing your duties for a moment.  Go outside and praise God for the beauty around you, and work out what you can do for someone else today, such as providing company, phoning someone to say you are thinking of them … this isn’t expensive.

But, to move on from thoughts of daily living to what Jairus’s daughter was doing: dying.  My most rewarding reading this month, was Elisabeth Kubler Ross’s biography. She was a highly trained Swiss surgeon who followed her husband to the States, but could only get a job in a psychiatric hospital, as she’d spent time as a student caring for refugees in Poland. And it was the McCarthy era. There, she listened to the stories of many who had probably been inaccurately diagnosed, and were dying without the support of their family, and they needed to talk. Later she wrote her book on death and dying, which I found very helpful when I was looking after children dying of cancer, when I was working at Waikato Hospital in the eighties. This experience of mine, seeing their bravery, how they looked after their parents, healed me, helped my grieving after my own mother had died of breast cancer. Grief I’d had no time to deal with, as she died a month before my first house job on a radiotherapy ward.

Jesus raised Jairus’s daughter from death: again I wonder at the true diagnosis, and what Jesus did; and how this experience affected Jairus’s daughter’s life after that. My reading and thinking left me with one message for today: if someone who is close to you is dying, make sure you go to see them, and have that final conversation. Don’t visit with your mind clouded with grief, but open to what they need to say, so they can die in peace. I will always be grateful to my mother’s friend who stayed with her while she was dying, while I stayed looking after my much younger brother, Will, as in the UK at that time it was thought that one should shelter the young from the reality of death.

So, I’ve given you a homily based on my personal experiences which may have stirred up painful memories for each of you, but please leave here today aware of the power of faith, trusting that God will be with you through the hard times of life, as well as the enjoyable moments.