This sermon was preached on August 23, 2015 at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The texts for this sermon were: 1 Kings 8: 22-30, 41-43, Psalm 84 or 84:1-6, Ephesians 6:10-20, and John 6:56-69.
For those of you who’ve been wondering whether I’ve been these past three weeks—or even if you haven’t noticed I’ve been away—I’ve been working with my fellowship program preparing for the arrival of new batch of Life Together fellows. Just over a week and a half ago, nineteen adults in their early twenties descended on our headquarters in Brookline for an eight-day orientation into their year of service and communal living. The first thing we did with the diverse group was to welcome them, each of them, all of them, wholly. We welcomed the fellows from California, Kentucky, and Missouri, the Christian, Buddhist, atheist and questioning fellows, the gay, straight, trans and bi fellows. We welcomed fellows who identified as African-American, Asian-American, Euro-American, and those who weren’t American at all. By the end of the whole long list, each part of every fellow had been welcomed by name.
For many fellows this was the first time they had heard their whole selves be welcomed into any community. A few told us later through tears that it was the first Christian space into which their gay, bi and queer identities were specifically loved by name. In that first act, we strove to tell each fellow that they were enough, just the way they were. For the large number of fellows carrying deep hurt they had experienced at the hands of the church through racism, sexism, or homophobia, our welcome dared them to imagine what Christianity could be.
But as the week wore on, I felt the expectations of that welcome begin to wear on me. It was one thing to say that our organization represented a radical, counter-cultural Jesus movement and it was another to live it in every moment. Our daily practice of evaluation by the fellows did little to alleviate the pressure. Each evening, we as the Training Leadership Team asked the fellows for their evaluation of how the day had gone and what they might change. Regardless of how well our team felt the day went, there was also someone who ended up disappointed about how things shook out. At first, my instinct was scribble down all the feedback and attempt to fix every suggestion. But, thankfully, my supervisor wisely stopped me halfway through our first evening debrief. "We can't please everyone," she reminded the team. Then she looked each one of us in the eyes in turn and smiled. "You have to believe that you are, in this moment, enough.”
I wish I could say that was the only time I needed to hear her say that. But the truth is that it took several days of praying on that loving reminder for me to realize what it meant. In order to express to the fellows that they were enough, I had to believe it was true for myself as well. I had to believe that I was enough, no matter how many times I forgot to take all the ingredients out of the freezer, showed up late, or got the timing on the training speech all wrong. We, as a team, were enough.
Two thousand years ago, an impoverished man born to an unwed mother chose to practice radical welcome to everyone who crossed his path—from the wealthy to the marginalized. But still, many people believed he and his message weren’t enough. In fact, Jesus disappointed a whole bunch of folks. A few paragraphs before today’s Gospel passage, John writes how the news of Jesus’s miraculous feeding of five thousand spread throughout the Judean countryside. Many began to believe that he was that long-awaited prophet who would solve all of their problems and bring about the military defeat of the Roman imperial occupation. In fact, right before this passage, Jesus was forced to withdrew from the crowds who clamored for him to become king.
But in synagogue in Capernaum, Jesus teaches people the truth about who he is. Jesus explains that he’s not here to provide them the literal bread of heaven like the Prophet Moses, but rather the spiritual food of his own flesh. His new followers are disappointed. This teaching is too difficult, they complain. It’s not enough. Where is the assurance of victory, the rallying call of revolution? When Jesus refuses to change his tune, the new followers abandon the movement in droves. At the end of this passage, we find Jesus surrounded by just twelve of the chosen. Still he doesn’t stop preaching the truth. I am enough, Jesus says. The bread of life is all you need.
The thing is if you're like me--let’s face it, if you’re a human being at all, you're going to encounter a lot of things and people and situations in life that will do their best to convince you that you are not enough. Maybe it's a boss, or a teacher, or a television ad. Sometimes you might even hear it in the words of a loved one. Sooner or later we will all disappoint someone, no matter how hard we work. We can choose though, in that moment, to believe that we are enough, despite it all. And we can stick with those few who dare to believe it, too.
That's what Jesus did. He spoke the truth about who he was, regardless of how many it would turn away. He told the people, I am all that you need. I am enough. Eat and you will be filled, forever. His declaration that he was enough was inseparable from his practice of radical welcome and his message of God’s love that’s still revolutionary today. You are enough. You, your disappointing, glorious, beloved self, is enough. Amen.
For those of you who’ve been wondering whether I’ve been these past three weeks—or even if you haven’t noticed I’ve been away—I’ve been working with my fellowship program preparing for the arrival of new batch of Life Together fellows. Just over a week and a half ago, nineteen adults in their early twenties descended on our headquarters in Brookline for an eight-day orientation into their year of service and communal living. The first thing we did with the diverse group was to welcome them, each of them, all of them, wholly. We welcomed the fellows from California, Kentucky, and Missouri, the Christian, Buddhist, atheist and questioning fellows, the gay, straight, trans and bi fellows. We welcomed fellows who identified as African-American, Asian-American, Euro-American, and those who weren’t American at all. By the end of the whole long list, each part of every fellow had been welcomed by name.
For many fellows this was the first time they had heard their whole selves be welcomed into any community. A few told us later through tears that it was the first Christian space into which their gay, bi and queer identities were specifically loved by name. In that first act, we strove to tell each fellow that they were enough, just the way they were. For the large number of fellows carrying deep hurt they had experienced at the hands of the church through racism, sexism, or homophobia, our welcome dared them to imagine what Christianity could be.
But as the week wore on, I felt the expectations of that welcome begin to wear on me. It was one thing to say that our organization represented a radical, counter-cultural Jesus movement and it was another to live it in every moment. Our daily practice of evaluation by the fellows did little to alleviate the pressure. Each evening, we as the Training Leadership Team asked the fellows for their evaluation of how the day had gone and what they might change. Regardless of how well our team felt the day went, there was also someone who ended up disappointed about how things shook out. At first, my instinct was scribble down all the feedback and attempt to fix every suggestion. But, thankfully, my supervisor wisely stopped me halfway through our first evening debrief. "We can't please everyone," she reminded the team. Then she looked each one of us in the eyes in turn and smiled. "You have to believe that you are, in this moment, enough.”
I wish I could say that was the only time I needed to hear her say that. But the truth is that it took several days of praying on that loving reminder for me to realize what it meant. In order to express to the fellows that they were enough, I had to believe it was true for myself as well. I had to believe that I was enough, no matter how many times I forgot to take all the ingredients out of the freezer, showed up late, or got the timing on the training speech all wrong. We, as a team, were enough.
Two thousand years ago, an impoverished man born to an unwed mother chose to practice radical welcome to everyone who crossed his path—from the wealthy to the marginalized. But still, many people believed he and his message weren’t enough. In fact, Jesus disappointed a whole bunch of folks. A few paragraphs before today’s Gospel passage, John writes how the news of Jesus’s miraculous feeding of five thousand spread throughout the Judean countryside. Many began to believe that he was that long-awaited prophet who would solve all of their problems and bring about the military defeat of the Roman imperial occupation. In fact, right before this passage, Jesus was forced to withdrew from the crowds who clamored for him to become king.
But in synagogue in Capernaum, Jesus teaches people the truth about who he is. Jesus explains that he’s not here to provide them the literal bread of heaven like the Prophet Moses, but rather the spiritual food of his own flesh. His new followers are disappointed. This teaching is too difficult, they complain. It’s not enough. Where is the assurance of victory, the rallying call of revolution? When Jesus refuses to change his tune, the new followers abandon the movement in droves. At the end of this passage, we find Jesus surrounded by just twelve of the chosen. Still he doesn’t stop preaching the truth. I am enough, Jesus says. The bread of life is all you need.
The thing is if you're like me--let’s face it, if you’re a human being at all, you're going to encounter a lot of things and people and situations in life that will do their best to convince you that you are not enough. Maybe it's a boss, or a teacher, or a television ad. Sometimes you might even hear it in the words of a loved one. Sooner or later we will all disappoint someone, no matter how hard we work. We can choose though, in that moment, to believe that we are enough, despite it all. And we can stick with those few who dare to believe it, too.
That's what Jesus did. He spoke the truth about who he was, regardless of how many it would turn away. He told the people, I am all that you need. I am enough. Eat and you will be filled, forever. His declaration that he was enough was inseparable from his practice of radical welcome and his message of God’s love that’s still revolutionary today. You are enough. You, your disappointing, glorious, beloved self, is enough. Amen.
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