A Sermon at Nutana Park Mennonite Church

Saskatoon, SK, Jul 28, 2024
Ched Myers & Elaine Enns

A man came from Baal-shalishah bringing food from the first fruits to the man of God: twenty loaves of barley and fresh ears of grain in his sack. Elisha said, “Give it to the people and let them eat.”
  But his servant said, “How can I set this before a hundred people?”
So he repeated, “Give it to the people and let them eat, for thus says the LORD: They shall eat and have some left.” He set it before them; they ate and had some left, according to the word of the LORD.  (2 Kings 4:42-44)

  Elaine: Good morning dear NPMC family: As a child of this church, it is good to be back with you today. As many of you know, Ched and I live and work in southern California on traditional Chumash territory. That is a long way from here, and I feel the distance from you all in time and space keenly—especially when it comes to keystone community moments that commemorate living and dying. In the past two weeks, I have attended the memorial of my oldest uncle, Jake Enns of Carrot River, and presided at the wedding of my youngest niece, Lauren Hooge.

 But to me he was above all our family pastor here at NPMC: he baptized me, dedicated most of my nieces and nephews as infants, officiated at our wedding, buried both of my parents, and welcomed Ched into the Mennonite church in 2008.

   Of course, Vern would want us to first pay attention to our scriptural readings. So we turn to reflect on these old (Jn 6:1-14) and older (2 Kg 4:42-44) feeding stories, which transmit a genealogy of faith that extends right up to us in this beloved community.

  Ched: In Palestine/Israel 13 years ago, Elaine and I fulfilled a lifelong dream to stand at the shore of the Sea of Galilee, where our Christian movement began two millennia ago. We visited the nearby church of the Loaves and Fishes, where just beneath the altar is a rock which tradition says was the “table” for Jesus’ feeding of the multitudes. In front of that rock is a 4^th century Byzantine mosaic of the loaves and fishes (below).  This holy place, featuring one of the earliest of Christian symbols, reminded us that at the heart of our tradition is a commitment to justice and sustenance for all.

  In both stories, the plot unfolds in four parts:

1. They open with a dilemma posed by hungry crowds;
2. The prophet’s disciples are instructed to respond to this need, but are skeptical that the meager rations available are sufficient;
3. the prophet then reiterates that the community must nonetheless distribute what is on hand;
4. The “miracle” turns out to be not some sort of magical multiplication, but rather how the prophet organizes the people to share. Both Elisha and Jesus return gratitude to the Great Giver, then pass on the gift of sustenance in a way that results in “enough for all—and then some.”

 Both feedings thus represent demonstration projects in the divine economy of grace that animates community practices of mutual aid. John’s version repeats Mark’s symbolic numbers at the conclusion: from the 5 loaves shared, 12 baskets of leftover pieces were gathered. Five invokes the books of Torah, and twelve signifies the body politic of both Israel and the church: 12 tribes, 12 disciples.
  John’s version repeats Mark’s symbolic numbers at the conclusion: from the 5 loaves shared, 12 baskets of leftover pieces were gathered. Five invokes the books of Torah, and twelve signifies the body politic of both Israel and the church: 12 tribes, 12 disciples.
   There is something archetypal going on in these old stories of feeding the hungry. That’s because they are remembering and recontextualizing the even older, primal story of manna in the wilderness found in Exodus 16—which happens to be the Hebrew Bible reading for next Sunday!

    This ancient tale narrates the first lesson God gives to the Hebrews coming out of slavery in Egypt. Contrary to our Sunday School felt board versions of this story, Exodus 16 is actually a catechism in alternative economics. It consists of three instructions (Ex 16:4) about how the people should gather the gift of sustenance:

1. They must make sure that whoever gathers more doesn’t gather too much, and whoever gathers less has enough (16:16-18). This is a specific repudiation of the economic stratification and disparity that characterized imperial Egypt;
2. They should not try to accumulate the manna (16:19-21). Keep in mind that the Hebrews had been slaves building “store cities” into which Egyptian regime stockpiled extracted wealth. Whenever we try to transform gift into possession, it leads inevitably to concentrations of wealth and inequity;
3. And the people will only remember the first two instructions by observing the Sabbath (16:22-30), which articulates an ethos and practice of limits on our extraction, consumption and labor.

    We call this the biblical vision of “Sabbath Economics,” which is the divine template for how humans are supposed to relate to the material world. These instructions were predicated on the theological conviction that Creation has enough for everyone’s need, but not for everyone’s greed. So remember this when you hear Exodus 16 next week.

    We call this the biblical vision of “Sabbath Economics,” which is the divine template for how humans are supposed to relate to the material world. These instructions were predicated on the theological conviction that Creation has enough for everyone’s need, but not for everyone’s greed. So remember this when you hear Exodus 16 next week.
  Centuries later, Elisha rehabilitates this ancient catechism in his response to the ravages of famine. And many more centuries down the line, Jesus embodies the practice of Elisha and Moses in his wilderness feeding. Let us note four aspects of John’s version of the loaves and fish tradition that weave together these stories:

• First, he stipulates that the loaves are made from barley (Jn 9:9)—just like in the Elisha story.
• Second, John frames Jesus’ instruction as a “test” (Jn 6:6a)—just like in the Exodus manna tale.
• Third, Jesus sets about organizing the community for sharing (Jn 6:10)—because Sabbath Economics is about changing habits.
• And finally, note the three verbs John’s Jesus uses in the distribution in verse 11: “take,” “give thanks,” and “give.”

    This is the same sequence of verbs used in the synoptic gospel accounts of the Last Supper! Indeed, “give thanks” in Greek is eucharisteō, whence our term Eucharist.” This means that the Sabbath Economics story is baked into the church’s most central sacrament. But we miss all this if we don’t remember the old stories of enough for everyone. Which is why later in chapter 6 John specifically ties Jesus’ loaves and fish “performative sign” to that primal catechism of the manna (6:30-31).  

      We modern folk, like Israel of old, have forgotten and forsaken God’s vision of Sabbath Economics.  In particular, we who are children of capitalism fight it with all our sophisticated might. The old story actually anticipates our resistance with a bit of humor.  The word manna means: “What the heck is this stuff?”  Which is to say, we recognize neither the divine gift nor the ethos of equity and sufficiency, because we have been so deeply socialized into an imperial cosmology of consumption and accumulation.

    Consequently, today we must reckon with the interlocking global catastrophes of social disparity and ecological overdraw. In our historical moment of crisis, these ancient stories urge us to face and heal our epidemic of Affluenza, and to work as churches to resist the rise of Plutocracy, which is to say domination by the rich, systems under which greed rather than need determines our personal and political behavior. 

      Elaine: This vocation is captured in the title of Ched’s new book, which he finished writing a month ago—and is copyediting during our stay here in SK! Healing Affluenza and Resisting Plutocracy: Luke’s Jesus and Sabbath Economics will be out in January—just in time to accompany the church in its preaching and study of the Year C lectionary! Patrick we’ll send you a copy when it comes out, and hope that you all might find this resource useful in the coming year.

      Of course, there were many, beautiful testimonies about this at Vern’s memorial service in May. I just want to add a few examples of how Vern seemed to make things “more bounteous” in his work with people. I recall fondly the enfranchising way he interacted with my young nieces and nephews, both during and outside of church services. They would run up to him, calling “Vern, Vern,” to share stories, in which he invariably delighted.

      As formidable a presence as he was, he was never too formal for little kids. I saw this also at church socials at the old Churchill School; Vern would be right there dancing, often sporting silly costumes, and having a ball. He had time enough for everyone. This commitment to inclusion extended to theological students, who similarly felt his warm accompaniment at Saskatoon Theological Union. Vern generously participated in overseeing my Doctor of Ministry project at St. Andrews, which eventually became our book Healing Haunted Histories. And Vern was well known for his initiatives to build ecumenical and interfaith relationships around Saskatoon, convinced as he was that God’s grace was “enough for everyone.”

      Vern’s demonstration of God’s abundance also extended to the weak and dying. On our final visit with him last year at Sunnyside (above), we were impressed with how he was still ministering in that place. He took time to introduce us to a woman with severe dementia with whom he would often sit, being present when few others would. Compassion enough for everyone.

      Vern walked in, knelt in front of her, wrapped his long arms around her, and they both commenced weeping, joined by all of us in the room.

  Like the Jesus he followed, Vern’s ministry was about inviting people to the table of God’s love, and “gathering up the fragments so that nothing may be lost.” May we endeavor to do likewise.