John 6:25-35

When they found [Jesus] on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.” Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” Then Jesus said to them, “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.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

As many of you know, things are tougher than usual in Haiti these days. Our friends in Fondwa – up in the mountains – are safe, as far as I know, from the political unrest and from the gangs who seem to have overrun so much of life in the neighborhoods in and around the capital of Port au Prince.

But our friends in Fondwa are heavy on my mind these days – and this week, in particular – as it revolves so much around food and abundance and counting our blessings. In the last couple of months there has been a food crisis, even up in the mountains of Fondwa. Even though they’re physically safe from and don’t have to interact with the gangs and the protests and the unrest in the city, all of that has impacted their ability to transport food and supplies and other necessities up the mountain. (Ships haven’t been able to port, gas stations haven’t been able to get or sell gas, people can’t get into or out of the city to move goods and supplies from one place to the next.)

Because of that, Zanmi Fondwa has been trying to raise money – not just for houses, lately – but to help with the resulting food crisis. When Luckner, our Director of Operations in Fondwa, who is also one of the most positive, optimistic, hopeful, humble, faithful people I’ve known says that it’s as bad as he’s seen it, it gets your attention.

So, I’ve been thinking a lot the last few days about the fact that our Haitian friends have told us $40.00 is enough money to buy a household in Fondwa enough rice and oil – and maybe some beans – to feed them for a month. And, if you’ve been to Fondwa, you know that “household” is a nebulous term. It could mean anywhere from 4 to 6 or 8 to 10 or more family members, in many cases. $40.00. Rice and oil. For a month.

The fact that we also chose $40.00 as the price point for our Food Pantry Thanksgiving Meal ministry isn’t lost on me. We gave families who signed up – also regardless of their size – a turkey, a pie, cans of corn, beans, gravy, rolls, potatoes, stuffing, and more. Like my Thanksgiving meal and yours, the quality and calories of that single meal is more than my Haitian friends will consume in weeks.

I’m not poo-pooing any of it. Both are beautiful expressions of generosity and provision. It’s all relative and meaningful. It’s just a healthy, holy, faithful dose of perspective for me as I prepare to eat my fair-share of gratitude on Thursday and to count my blessings in the days to come. And tonight – and this week – and every day that we can manage it, is about taking none of that for granted.

Because the practice of giving thanks from a Christian, faithful kind of perspective isn’t so much about national pride or patriotism. The practice of giving thanks, of counting our blessings, even in the face of sadness and struggle – of acknowledging God’s abundance even in the face of what can feel like scarcity for us or for others – is an act of faith, pure and simple. Gratitude is a Christian discipline that points to God’s power – and our desire to trust that power – whether we’re feeling blessed or burdened at any given moment.

And, while having enough to eat isn’t a struggle for most of us, you and I might feel more blessed by God’s provision or more burdened by its lack, depending on the day. Just in the last couple of days, I’ve prayed to God and had conversations with some of you about successful surgeries and about sad and scary diagnoses; about new, blossoming relationships and about relationships that are struggling; about new life being born and about lives being lost too soon. There are joys and sorrows, challenges and celebrations,¬¬¬ everywhere you look.

And, in tonight’s Gospel, what Jesus seems to be inviting those people to – the ones who were chasing him down all around Galilee – is a holy kind of perspective about life and faith in the middle of it all. He reminds them about how the Israelites – lost and wandering around in the wilderness – were fed with the manna that came down from heaven. And he wants them to know that, in the same way, he has come to feed the world – lost and wandering in our own kind of wilderness, still – with a different kind of bread.

It’s bread that fills us, literally, like so much rice for our friends in Haiti. And it’s a different kind of bread that fills them – and us, too – with the promise of forgiveness and redemption and hope, in spite of whatever sins and sadness and struggle any of us faces from day to day.

It’s no small thing that Jesus, on the night when he was betrayed – to be crucified, killed and buried – “took bread, blessed it and broke it, GAVE THANKS, and gave it to his disciples.” And he did the same thing with the cup – GAVE THANKS, I mean – before sharing the new covenant in his own blood, that was about to be poured out for the sake of the world. Even as he looked ahead to the way they would betray and deny him. Even as he looked ahead to his own crucifixion, Jesus had faith enough to give thanks.

Which is how we’re called to be today, on Thursday, and every day, as God’s people on the planet – find ways to be grateful in the face of whatever comes our way, which is something I’ve learned from the people of Fondwa over the years:

- To give thanks, not just for what we have, but for the Truth that God has us, always.

- To give thanks, not just that God meets our needs, but that God is our only need, really.

- To give thanks, not just that we have been blessed in some way, but that God uses us to be a blessing in return.

- To give thanks, not because all is right with our world, but that God is bigger than whatever is wrong.

- To give thanks, not because we are better off than so many others who have it worse, but to give thanks that whatever and wherever we are in the grand scheme of things can be “enough” – by God’s grace – if we will allow it to be.

- And to give thanks because the discipline of it changes our perspective and it softens our hearts. It turns darkness to light, scarcity into abundance, sorrow into joy, despair into hope, fear into faith – and more – because of God’s deep love for us all.

Amen

John 8:31-36

Jesus said, to some of the Jews who had believed in him, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.” They said to him, “We are descendants of Abraham and have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free’?”

Jesus answered them, “Everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not have a permanent place in the house, but the son has a place there forever. So, if the Son makes you free, you will be free, indeed.”

I found myself playing Foosball recently with one of my favorite 9 year-old boys, who shall remain nameless. (It’s questionably for pastors to invoke their own children as sermon illustrations, and even moreso where other peoples’ kids are concerned. So I will refrain.) Anyway, when he asked me if I played foosball, I gave him the same answer I give when someone asks me if I golf or play pool; something like, “I have played foosball, but I don’t play foosball.” Which really just means, I’m terrible at foosball – and golf and pool, for that matter.

But, since he’s one of my favorite 9 year-old boys, I agreed. And, first came the rules. And, since I’ve only played foosball, but don’t play foosball – and as with golf and pool, I’m usually holding a beer in one hand and a pool cue, golf club, or foosball rod in the other – I didn’t know the rules, didn’t think there were, really, rules to foosball, so was utterly at the mercy of my 9 year-old friend, who had LOTS of rules about how to play foosball.

I couldn’t keep track of them all at the time and can’t possibly remember them, now. But there was an “off-sides” rule somehow. And he seemed to have very official-sounding names for very particular offenses and penalties, like “tripping” I think. Maybe “tackling” was another. I was mystified by how little plastic figures, with immovable arms and legs, permanently attached to a metal rod could “trip” or “tackle” anything, but I was in no position of authority to argue with my 9-year old opponent. It was his table, his house, his rules, after all.

There was also a rule about whether my foosball players would, could, or should be upside down or right-side up at particular times. I think some of the foosball players could kick the ball backwards but others could not. I never did get to drop the ball back onto the playing field after a score, either – that was always his job. AND, of course, after I scored a time or two, my favorite 9 year-old seemed to suddenly remember more rules he’d forgotten to tell me about before we started. (I’m certain by the way, that he comes by all of this naturally. See, my favorite nine year-old’s father is a lawyer.)

But I played along, confident that I would and could and should win – no matter how many rules he threw at me – because he’s 9. But, as you might have guessed, I lost that freaking foosball game to my favorite 9 year-old.

And it makes me think about what we’re up to on Reformation Sunday: what Martin Luther was challenging in the Church of his day, and something like what Jesus meant when he talked about being a slave to sin, and about how we could be freed from that kind of bondage.

See, I think God’s people on the planet are called “children” for some very good reasons. Since the beginning of time, we’ve been pretending that the rules can save us. So we’ve messed with the rules – creating our own and breaking God’s – in ways that work to our advantage, in ways that disadvantage others, and in ways that make winners and losers of God’s people. And I think, like my favorite 9 year-old, we’ve convinced ourselves that by fudging the rules, by bending the rules, by making up and massaging the rules for our benefit, by playing by the rules at all – we can come out on top; that we can win, in the end.

In other words, we have convinced ourselves that our best chance for salvation, our best chance at freedom, as Jesus says it this morning, our only hope for victory is wrapped up in the Law of God’s rules.

Which is what people were up to in the days of Martin Luther – back in the 16th Century. They were keeping score with rituals and rules and restrictions and riches. You could pay cash for salvation, by way of something called an Indulgence, for example. The church was acting like a bunch of children, convincing people they could buy their way out of purgatory and into heaven, for the right amount of money. People were told they could make a spiritual pilgrimage or visit a holy shrine to earn favor and forgiveness in God’s eyes. We call this “works righteousness” nowadays – the notion that we can behave our way into God’s good graces.

And all of this made Martin Luther sad. It made him angry. It made him want to change and reform so much of what was happening to God’s Church in the world.

And it wasn’t much different than what was going on in the days of Jesus, either. The followers of Jesus were screwing up even while he was still walking around on the planet. The Pharisees were pointing fingers, the Sadducees throwing stones, the Scribes were scribbling down their rules, and the disciples were doubting that the grace Jesus proclaimed, promised and embodied, could really be true. And the faithful were falling for it.

All of it was about who was right and who was wrong; who was earning God’s favor and who was reaping God’s judgment; who was playing by the rules and who wasn’t; and who may or may not win, in the end.

God’s children were under the impression that following the rules – keeping the Law, at all costs – was the only way to win… the only way to be free …the only way to be saved. And, like me against my favorite 9 year-old, people fell for it – people fall for it – all of the time, thinking they could out-smart it all by following the rules.

But like those people listening to Jesus in this morning’s Gospel, we forget, don’t we? We forget that we have been – and are, still – slaves to Sin, slaves to the rules, slaves to the Law. And as slaves, like our confession reminds us, we cannot free ourselves. There is no amount of rules to follow… there is no correct Law to abide… there is no way, even, to tweak or twist the rules or the Law so that it leads to our victory.

Because we need more than the Law. We need the Son. We need the grace of a God, who isn’t keeping score; who isn’t dangling the rules before us like a carrot; who isn’t twisting the rules so that we’ll keep playing at this thing called FAITH, as though it were a to-do list for some cosmic task-master, rather than a grateful response to a generous God, which our faith is meant to be. We need the grace of a God who already loves us – and who always, always, always will – because we are, indeed, children of God. Nothing more and nothing less.

See, I imagine God watching all of us children – you and me and all of creation, I mean – like my favorite 9 year-old’s parents watched him kick my butt at the foosball table. Smiling and laughing. Not at all surprised. All of us knowing it was never about the rules or the score or the winning or the losing, anyway.

All that matters – God knows, and wants us to believe – is that we’re all set free, each and every one of us. That we all win, in the end. That God holds no grudges – and neither should we – until we learn to live differently and to love more radically and to hope more earnestly, and to play more fairly … for our own sake and for the sake of the world … thanks to the grace that belongs to each of us, that frees every one of us, that makes us all winners, in Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Amen

(…and for the record, I did Google “Foosball Rules” in preparation for this sermon and found nothing about “tripping,” “tackling,” or “off-sides.” And the rules I did learn about were not in my favorite 9 year-old’s repertoire, so I’m totally kicking that 9 year-old’s butt next we play.)

Joy, Discipline and Perspective of Gratitude

Reformation Foosball