Little Things

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

August 2, 2020

13 Proper A

          A couple of years ago, I was invited to a wedding shower, the theme of which was “little things.”  The guests were invited to bring a small thing that brought them joy such as a recipe, or a candle, or their favorite tea or coffee or cookbook.  The bride received a wonderful assortment of little things that make a house or an apartment a home, some of which were new, some of which were family heirlooms ready for a new generation, and all of which brought joy to the giver.  I had never been to such a wedding shower and I was struck, not only by the gifts, but by the stories that accompanied the gifts.  Some people talked about how the item gave them joy.  Others spoke of the history of a family item.  All of those little things were blessed in their giving and represented a huge amount of love and blessing for this bride and her new life.

          Little things seem like the theme of our gospel reading this morning.  A great crowd of people have followed Jesus to a deserted place, where Jesus has compassion on them and cures their sick.  At dinner time, the disciples urge Jesus to send the crowds away to find some food, but Jesus tells the disciples to give the crowd of 5000 men plus women and children something to eat. 

          How, exactly, are the disciples supposed to whip up a meal on the spot for about 10,000 people?  They have five loaves of bread and two fish.  Little things, actually, especially in the face of so many hungry people.  But Jesus takes those little things, blesses and breaks them, then gives the food to the disciples to distribute.  When everyone had eaten their fill, there were twelve baskets full leftover, or more food than they had to start with.

          Much has been written about this story, trying to explain exactly how Jesus fed so many with so little.  Some say that when the little bit was shared, everyone started sharing what they had so there was more than enough.  But there is no evidence in the story that anyone had brought a picnic with them.  Jesus and the disciples are all clear that the people will need to be fed one way or another.  Others say that when we are really hungry, only a small bit of food is needed for us to feel full. While that might be true, that explanation does not account for the 12 baskets full that were left. Still others recognize that this is a miracle pure and simple.  And if we could just figure out how to replicate the miracle we could solve the problem of world hunger overnight.

          Tonight, we will host an online service to acknowledge and pray for what I call “pandemic grief”.  Whether we have experienced the grief of a loved one, or mourn the loss of life the way we knew it in February, or feel the loss of the Eucharist, or the ability to sing together, or have lost a job or other opportunity, or miss family and loved ones and milestone events, whether our grief seems to us to be large overwhelming grief or small, nuisance grief, I think most of us have wrestled with grief in this uncertain and challenging time. And if you are like me, perhaps you have wrestled with God a bit, too.

          In our reading from Genesis, Jacob wrestles with a man who turns out to be God.  After a night of wrestling, Jacob tells the man that he will not let the man go unless the man blesses Jacob. Jacob is blessed by God and given a new name, Israel.  Jacob has wrestled with God, been blessed and given a new name, and walks away with a limp.  The limp is a sign that Jacob was not unharmed by the wrestling match, even as Jacob was blessed.  Jacob was blessed AND changed through his wrestling match with God.

          Jesus reminds us this morning that when we offer what we have to God, no matter how small or large, whether something good or something hard, and allow what we have to be broken by God and blessed, what we offer becomes a blessing to many.  Jacob reminds us that when we offer ourselves to God at our deepest level, and wrestle with God whatever our challenge, we will be blessed and changed.  And, while we often talk about offering our little bit of time, or money, or other resources to God, or wrestling with God over God’s call on our lives, or some injustice in the world or some other brokenness, I believe, the same applies to our grief.  When we offer that for which we mourn to God, that which we have lost no matter whether a large thing or a seemingly little thing, and allow God to break it and bless it as with the little bit of bread and the fish, the grief we have offered can become a blessing to ourselves and others.  We become more aware of what really matters to us, more compassionate, more deeply connected with each other and God, and more driven to make a difference.  And, like Jacob who wrestled with God, when we walk out of this wilderness, we will have been changed in ways we cannot imagine.  We may walk with a limp, metaphorical or literal, but we will, like Jacob, will walk out of the wilderness to be a blessing to the world.

                                                                                      Amen.