Sermon, Sun 22 July 'Sharing our stories, sharing ourselves'

Today we reflected on the power of story, of sharing our stories, of sharing God's story. As we entered the building different coloured tags with the words 'my story' were given out, and in the early part of worship, we thought about the story of our life, and a story from our life. These were gathered up and tied to what became our story tree, placed by the lectern - the many colours representing the diversity of stories, all brought together by a common story: God's story in the world, in our communities, and in our lives.

READINGS:
Ps 23; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-44

SERMON
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth, and the thoughts of all our hearts,
be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

It was the first time she’d been invited around for dinner.
She’d struck it lucky:
Monday night was roast night, and Deb was quite partial to a decent roast, along with roast tatties.
As they settled at the table to eat, the stories began of how the day had gone for each of them.
Some of the chat got into some pretty blunt speaking about bodily functions and such like.
One particular story had been quite gory indeed – concerning a rugby training injury.
Deb listened, watched, and chewed on her bit of roast beef thoughtfully.
The next day, at school with her friend, she finally blurted out the question that
had been vexing her all through the night:
‘So, do you always talk about bodily functions and blood and guts at dinner?’
Her friend looked surprised, then stopped to think.
‘Yeah, actually, I suppose we do: it’s the only time we get to tell our stories, 
so nothing’s off limits. Um, sorry!’
Poor Deb.
But it was a good lesson for her friend with the cast-iron stomach: me.
I learned that day not to tell certain stories if dining out elsewhere.

A little earlier we were talking about stories –
stories that made up the story of our life;
about Jesus, as the great story teller;
about the followers of Jesus, passing on the stories that made up the story of his life –
a life and stories which in turn, gave us insights into God’s great story –
told from since before Creation came into being.
Stories shared from the dawn of time right down to our present.
And it’s interesting to me, that within the collection of stories gathered together
which make up our Bible, so many are, in some way, food-related.
Last week, a gruesome birthday dinner at King Herod’s palace –
which my friend Deb would definitely have struggled with;
and this week, a much happier event –
an unexpected picnic with Jesus, the disciples, and at least 5 000 others...
although I suspect that there were probably more:
our story of the feeding of the 5 000 only counts the men –
women and children weren’t qualified to testify as witnesses in law,
so weren’t deemed worthy of counting!
I’ll not go into a small feminist rant at this point, I promise!

As we’ve seen in the Gospel of Mark,
the crowds just keep gathering around Jesus.
At the beginning of this particular story,
he, along with the disciples, are heading off to a quiet place to get a little rest.
The disciples are not long back from their mission –
to go, two by two, and share the news of Jesus in the surrounding area.
Having shared their stories with Jesus, of what had happened,
it’s time to stop a wee while, recharge batteries, and generally chill out.
It’s a great plan.
Off they go to what’s described as ‘a solitary place.’
However, they don’t go unnoticed.
Soon, the solitary place is more like party-zone central:
the crowds have literally hot-footed it there, to see Jesus –
almost in the same way some folk flock to see their favourite movie or rock star.

Although he’s tired, as he arrives and sees the gathering crowd,
Jesus doesn’t get hot and bothered,
he has compassion on them –
he sees just how lost they are,
just how desperate they are for meaning in their lives;
they’re searching, looking for something,
wanting a life that...matters;
wanting someone to show them how to make sense of the story that is their life;
they seek a shepherd –
and Jesus, as the Good Shepherd, greets them as they come,
and then settles them down,
and begins to teach them
instead of having the rest he and his disciples had been planning.

Now, there’s a reason that solitary places are often just that, solitary –
they tend to be in out of the way, off the beaten track areas.
This unusually crowded solitary place was in a remote area, and time was moving on.
No handy burger van at the ready,
no phone for a Domino’s pizza available,
and the disciples are getting edgy:
what to do?
This bunch of assorted people,
each with their own particular story,
each with their own particular reason for chasing after Jesus,
well, these people are going to get hungry.
Surely it’s time to send them away?
But we know that this is not how the story goes.

Jesus is very much into welcome and hospitality:
remember, his first miracle was turning water into wine.
He will not see these ‘sheep’, these lost ones, sent away hungry
whether in a spiritual or physical manner.
Even without the benefit of joined up shops, or a trusty Marks and Sparks,
this is a problem that can be fixed.
In fact, this particular problem may be a great example of that age-old saying:
‘A problem shared, is a problem halved.’
The people aren’t sent away.
The disciples are told:
‘You give them something to eat – what have you got?’
They dig out their Star Wars themed lunch boxes – or equivalent...
Some bread, some fish.
Perhaps they look at it a little wistfully as they show it to Jesus,
who blesses the food, and then they start to share it out.
But it doesn’t run out.
And as we know, at the end of this story, there’ll be plenty of left-overs as well.

Whether some mysterious thing happens,
or whether the selfless sharing of the disciples’ own food inspires everyone
to pull out their own lunch boxes and pool resources isn’t the point:
there are other things at play here.
Jesus, the ‘bread of life’ nourishes both body and soul –
and, through this miracle, reminds us of another story,
the feeding of the Israelites as they wandered in the Wilderness.
Jesus actively demonstrates that God will indeed supply all needs.
And another thing:
Jesus feeds them, no questions asked;
he doesn’t require any doctrinal hoops to be jumped through,
doesn’t ask them to show proof of their holiness.
They don’t have to do anything to earn their place at this great picnic.
He simply meets their need.
He feeds them, and in doing so, they become, in that moment, companions.
The word ‘companion’ comes from the Latin:
‘com’ meaning ‘with, and ‘panis’ meaning ‘bread’...
So, a ‘companion’ is someone with whom you share your bread.
And that’s what happens to this group gathered in a remote place:
in the breaking of bread, in the sharing of food, and of their stories, they become companions.

Time and time again, Jesus will eat with a variety of people –
and often be told that they are ‘the wrong kind of people’ –
poor, outcast, unclean, dodgy folk.
Widows, orphans, tax collectors, foreigners, radicals.
A diversity of people, yet with one thing in  common: hunger –
physical, yes, but deeper than that –
a soul-hunger that only Jesus can satisfy.
Each time he eats with them, he makes the statement:
‘these are my people, the people I share my stories and my bread with – my companions.’ 
Each of his companions has their own particular story of how they landed up
sharing a meal with Jesus.
Each will share a story about a particular need that drew them to him.
Each will go away satisfied, having eaten bread with the Bread of Life
and found themselves nourished way beyond their expectations.
Each will share their story – often over bread,
so that the stories and the great story
will be passed down,
will be spread,
and the feeding will feed imaginations,
and hearts, and souls,
and bodies and minds.

‘All who feast on the Bread of Life are family. 
All who dare to feed the hungry, 
fellowship with the suffering, 
and befriend sinners are companions of Christ. 
This, after all, is the Kingdom: 
a bunch of outcasts and oddballs 
gathered together, not because we are rich or worthy or good, 
but because we are hungry, because we long for more. 
And just as the fish and the loaves continued to multiply, so have the companions of Jesus. 
The family just keeps growing and growing.  
So whoever you are in this ongoing story...if you are hungry, come and eat. 
You don't have to earn a spot. It is given. 
The baskets are overflowing and there’s always room for more.’[*Rachel Held Evans]  
And when you’ve eaten, go share:
your story, God’s story,
and don’t forget to share the bread.
Amen.