Sunday, January 23, 2011

the practice of enough

Shalom Mennonite Church

Sunday, January 23, 2011 – Stewardship Sunday

The Freedom to Give and Receive

Texts: Psalm 100, Exodus 16:1-12, and Matthew 6:7-13

Eric Massanari


the practice of enough”


[reading of Exodus 16:1-12]


As the story of the exodus continues,

we learn that the Israelites have a tough time following

the instructions that God has given.


In the morning, when the people wake up

they find the ground covered with

a fine flaky substance, like frost.

In the scriptures it is called manna,

from the Hebrew mān hû,

which literally translates as a question: “What is it?”

Which is the question the people ask

when they see it on the ground.


It reminds me of the old commercials

for the candy bar the Watchamacallit.

What do ya call it?

Whatchamacallit.

I know, but what's the name?

Whatchamacallit.

And on and on . . .


What do ya call this stuff all over the ground?

What is it.

Exactly, what is it?

What is it.

And on and on . . .


No doubt the name manna arose

some time later, through the telling of the story.


Whatever they might have called

that flaky, frosty stuff at the moment

they found it on the ground,

the people are reminded of the divine command

to collect no more than one omer per person, per day.

An omer is about two liters,

or roughly seventy ounces.

This is the daily ration of manna

for each woman, man and child.


God's instructions are for the people to go out

and collect their omer of manna each morning,

eat it that day, and not save any for tomorrow.

They were supposed to trust that there

would be manna provided the next day -

today's manna would be enough for today.


If they tried to collect more than their share,

or save some leftovers for the next day,

they found that the manna quickly spoiled

and became infested with worms.


An exception, however, was made on the sixth day.

On the sixth day the people were to go out

and collect two omer of manna,

one for that day and one for the next – the Sabbath.

That way everyone could rest on the Sabbath.

And, miraculously, they found that

what was saved over night for the Sabbath

did not rot or get infested with worms.


Well, the Israelites were human,

and they were hungry,

and they were scared,

and they were short on patience.

God's provisions may have seemed a bit lacking.



Some were so overwhelmed they complained

that they would have been better off staying in Egypt.


Some tried to collect more than their share,

and others attempted to store some away

just in case God did not provide as promised.

Still others went out on the Sabbath day

to see if they could collect a bit extra,

but they found that there was no manna

on the ground on the morning of the seventh day.


The lesson of the manna was learned

once the Israelites let go of their fear,

their attempts to control the situation.

The people needed to grow to trust

that God would indeed provide as promised.

The lesson of the manna was the lesson of enough -

God promised they would have enough,

no more and no less.


At the end of this part of the Exodus story,

God asks Moses and Aaron to collect

one extra jar of one omer of manna -

the very amount that was enough for a day.

The jar was to be carried by the people

on their journey through the wilderness and beyond.


The jar of manna becomes

a symbol for the people of

God's providence and fidelity.

It is a reminder that God will provide.


This stuff I have here in the jar isn't manna;

I have yet to find a supplier for that.

Maybe manna looked something like

these instant mashed potatoes - “potato buds.”


These happen to be one of my favorite

snacks to take with me on

multi-day backpacking trips.

At the end of a long day of hiking,

especially if its cold,

it's a treat to mix up some hot

mashed potatoes with a bit of butter and cheese.

It's a perfect warm-up and re-energizer!


Something I learned early on

when traveling in the wilderness

is that it is important to carry enough -

enough to keep you fed, warm, and dry.

Too much, and you are carrying too much weight

and needlessly wearing yourself out.

Too little, and you can find yourself

in a whole heap of trouble!


After being out for a number of days,

you tend to stop complaining about

what you don't have -

pizza, a bed, a toilet -

and you come to appreciate

what a gift it can be to travel

with just enough for each day – no less and no more.


Granted, a backpacking trip

is something entirely different

from a forty-year sojourn in the wilderness!

The Israelites knew hunger,

exposure, and the pain of exile

in a way that very few of us

have ever known on our journeys.


However, there are a great many people

in the world today who could identify

with the plight of those Hebrew vagabonds.

There are millions in this world

who do not have enough -

enough food, potable water, or shelter.

Many do not know whether there

will be enough for this day.

And heavenly manna

seems to be in short supply.


Perhaps God is waiting for the rest of us,

those of us who have more than enough,

to provide the manna today.


One of the challenges seems to be

that we have some very different notions

as human beings in this world

of what constitutes enough.


This Christmas, my son Noah received

a book from his great aunt.

It's entitled, Material World, and perhaps

some of you have seen it before.

It was created by photojournalist Peter Menzel,

and he said the inspiration for it came

back in 1992 when he was listening to a

National Public Radio story about the release

of the pop star Madonna's tell-all book.

For weeks the self-proclaimed “material girl”

rode waves of publicity and hype.

And Menzel decided that if another book

was to enter the world, it needed to be a reality check.


So, he began taking pictures of families,

and households of all kinds around the world.

He invited them to take all of their material possessions

and collect them in the yard, or in the street,

just outside their homes, or huts, or shanties.

Then he took a picture picture

of the householders next to their possessions.

The differences in the pictures

are sometimes quite shocking.


In some photographs you see the people

more than the stuff, because there are few possessions.

In other photographs, the people are dwarfed

by piles and piles of things.


The images evoke many questions, including:

What is enough?


Is enough when you can fit all of your stuff

into the back of a pick-up?

Is enough when you've maxed out

one, maybe two, climate-controlled storage units?

Is enough when you have one sack of rice

and one jar of beans available for the week?

Is enough when your cupboards, your pantry,

your fridge and your deep-freeze are all stocked?


What is enough to have set aside for a rainy day?

What is enough for your retirement savings?

(which is something a large portion of the human

population does not have the luxury of thinking about!)

What is enough when it comes

to our hurried lives and the commitments of our time?


There are many people out there ready to tell

us how much is enough, and quite often they

are the ones hoping to sell us something more!


You and I live in a society -

here in North America –

where we seem to think that one can never get enough.

The earth has never seen more ravenous consumers than us!

And the earth – and other human beings - suffer our consumption.


And while one might presume that

when you have lots, and more than enough,

it becomes that much easier to be generous,

the evidence overwhelmingly seems to

point in the opposite direction.


The wise writer of the book of Proverbs

seemed to understand this.

On the back of the bulletin this morning you find these words:


Give me neither poverty nor riches,

but give me only my daily bread.

Otherwise I may have too much and disown you

and say, “Who is the Lord?”

        • Proverbs 30:8-9


Or say, “Who is my neighbor?”


Generosity does not necessarily flow from abundance.

We may have a lot of stuff and resources at our disposal,

but it doesn't follow that we will be inclined to share.


Generosity flows much more freely from gratitude -

from an abiding sense of gratefulness

for life and the gifts of life that sustain our own living.

Generosity flows also from an awareness

that life is intertwined, that my own abundance

is inextricably linked with another person's hunger.


When we know gratitude, and when we practice

an awareness of how our life is linked with others,

we are better able to determine what is enough for us

and better able to see what we have to share with others.


To conclude I want to return again to the

bare-bones prayer that Jesus taught the disciples.

The prayer itself stands as a caution about

knowing when enough is enough.


Jesus tells them:

Don't heap words on words when you pray

just to sound good to yourself, or others, or God.

God doesn't need lots of fancy words!

When you do that it is more about you than it is about God!”


So pray this way:


Our Father who is in heaven hallowed be your name.

(Praise)


Your kingdom come.

Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

(Radical hope and trust in God's fidelity)


Give us this day our daily bread.

(a prayer of enough)


It is a prayer that hearkens back to the

Israelites in the wilderness

and the one omer of manna

that was enough for the day.


It is a prayer that says:


God may we have enough to satisfy our needs,

though, not so much that we assume ourselves

to be protected against any hardship.

Let it be enough that we need not despair.

Let it be enough that we can be generous

with the richness of our lives.”


Give us, Lord, - all of us in this world -

our daily bread.


And free us to give as we are able.


Amen


Saturday, January 22, 2011

the ground of silence

Silence is not simply the absence of word or sound.
It is that spacious ground beneath all that we say or do.
All words we speak arise from it, and return to it.
Silence endures and waits beneath
all of our noise,
our busyness,
and our excesses.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

on ice

to walk icy streets
is to remember walking,
and reclaim two feet!

Sunday, January 16, 2011

what are you looking for?

Shalom Mennonite Church

Sunday, January 16, 2011 – Jesus bids us, “Come and See”

Texts: Psalm 40, Ephesians 4:1-6, John 1:25-42

Eric Massanari


What are you looking for?


What are you looking for?”


Jesus' question to the two

curious disciples of John the Baptizer

is one of those BIG questions.

It leaps off the page;

it jumps right out of the story world

and into the life of any curious seeker

or would-be disciple:


What are you looking for?”


I was with a group of people

reflecting on this story this week

and someone pointed out

how humorous this scene is,

with the two men tagging along behind Jesus,

and Jesus confronting them with this

not-so-simple question.

And their response:


Rabbi . . . where are you staying?”


Ummm, okay . . .

Doesn't that seem like a complete dodge of Jesus' question?


I wonder if in their response we get some glimpse

into what they are looking for:

Rabbi . . . teacher.


Their initial address of Jesus tells us something

about how they see him, at least at first glance -

or, perhaps more precisely,

it tells us what they want to see in him.

A rabbi, a teacher.


And if this is what they're looking for

then, for the time being,

this is what they see in Jesus.

It may take some time before they see more.


Which is what often happens to many of us;

we look for something, we set our hearts on something,

and sometimes – at least for a time -

we may see what we want to see.

And sometimes, we come to find,

that there is much much more there

than we first thought or assumed.


What are you looking for?”


In Susan Trott's book, The Holy Man*,

she tells the story of a man who lives

on the top of a mountain in a hermitage.

The perfect spot for a holy man, right?


There are a few companions who live

on the mountain with him.

And as his reputation for wisdom and insight spreads,

more and more people seek him out for counsel.


People come and line up along the narrow

trail that leads up the mountain to the hermitage.

Most days the cue seems impossibly long,

and it moves at a slow pace.

Those who are patient enough to wait

are finally rewarded with an arrival

at the door of the mountaintop hermitage.


For each pilgrim the door opens,

and they are invited in by a small,

rather nondescript old man

dressed in ragged monk's robes,

who simply says to them, “Yes?”


The typical pilgrim replies, “I've come to see the holy man.”


Follow me please,” says the monk

and he leads them through the main hallway,

through the hermitage and all the way to the back door,

which he opens for them,

and then smiles at them, and says, “Goodbye.”


But I've come to see the holy man!”

most pilgrims protest.


And the man gently replies, “And you have seen me.”


What are you looking for?


And because of what you are looking for, what do you see?

And because of what you are looking for, what do you not see?


Trott's story of the holy man

is much like the gospel stories of Jesus

and how the people who encountered him

saw him in some dramatically different ways:


a rabbi,

a healer,

a prophet,

a priest,

a king,

a messiah,

a threat,

a heretic,

a criminal.


Some were not able to see him at

all for what he was.

Others – often those whose

vision had been laid bare by

suffering or grief – could see him clearly.

Those who chose to spend time with him

learned what we all come to learn

through relationships that extend over time:

that when we get to know someone,

often our first impressions frequently fall away

and we begin to see much more there

than we first thought or imagined.


Notice what Jesus does in this story

after the disciples of John give their

rather non-answer answer to his question.


Rabbi . . . where are you staying?”

“Come and see,” said Jesus.


Like Jesus' original question,

this response seems BIG -

something more than just “come and see where I'm staying.”

Perhaps something closer to,

Come and see what kind of teacher I am . . .

Come and see who God is . . .

Come and see who your neighbors are . . .

Come and see who you are . . .”


Jesus wisely understood that there is no

substitute for real-life, lived experience,

and real-life, lived relationships.

He could have tried to explain some things

about himself to Andrew and John,

and he could have simply told them

where he was staying, but instead

he invited them to join him in the journey.


As Jesus reveals, this is how we discover what it is

that we are truly looking for.


Who Jesus was, and what Christ calls us to in life,

cannot be summed up in wordy explanations,

or propositional statements.

To discover him, to understand him,

and to find what it is we are looking for,

we must risk living the way he lived – with one another.


There is a meaningful lesson for us in this story,

especially in this week when

there has been a great deal of public discourse

about the angry, toxic and fearful ways

we have been communicating with on another.

We the people of the United States of America

have been acting like a scared and wounded people.


And when we are scared and wounded

we tend to see the world in a certain way.


We look for an enemy and we inevitably find one.

We look for some explanation or reason for our pain,

and we never fail to find at least one person to blame.

We look for the reason why we are dissatisfied with life

and we usually find it somewhere out there, beyond ourselves.

When we are hurt, fearful, angry and resentful,

it is all too easy to look for and find in the world

all that confirms our hurt, fear, anger and resentment.


This may be when it is most difficult for us

to follow Jesus' invitation to “come and see.”

Or, as the Apostle Paul later put it to the Ephesians:

Come and lead a life worthy of your calling from God,

with humility, gentleness, patience,

bearing with one another – including your adversaries -

in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit

and the bonds of peace.”


Martin Luther King, Jr. re-echoed this same call to “come and see”

when he spoke out against the Vietnam War

in April of 1967. He said,

We are bound by allegiances and loyalties which are broader and deeper than nationalism [or, we could add, political parties or social and religious convictions] . . . [Our call is] for a worldwide fellowship that lifts neighborly concern beyond one's tribe, race, class, and nation is in reality a call for an all-embracing and unconditional love for all.

When the holy man of Susan Trott's story

ushered the surprised and incredulous pilgrims

out the back door of his hermitage,

he said one more thing to them before they left.

After saying, “Goodbye,” he added,


If you look on everyone you meet as a holy person,

you will be happy.


And who knows,

if we practice this

we might discover

what it is we are looking for,

and much more.


Amen


* Trott, Susan. The Holy Man New York: Riverhead Books, 1995.

When even the shadows can heal

           Yet more than ever believers were added to the Lord, great numbers of both men and women, so that they even carried out the sick...