Mt. Olive Lutheran Church
"It's Suppose to Be That Way"
Sermon for 9th Sunday after Pentecost
By Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels -
My friend, Allen, may he rest in peace, was an intelligent, creative person who thought about things the way no one else did//, or does, in my life. He was also a more than decent racquetball player. I recall one day when we just finished a few games, none of which I remember winning, we sat down to drink some Gatorade. Allen said, “Did you ever notice this tastes like flavored sweat?” Of course, I hadn’t, but Allen did. He thought that way. That was the first time I tasted the salt in Gatorade, covered over by sweetener and artificial flavor. Gatorade has never tasted the same since.
One might think that such a clever way of looking at things must have developed over time. Allen began thinking that way early on. He told me that when he first arrived in Kindergarten, the teacher pointed to the large letters of the alphabet, posted in a line, high on the wall. When she finished indicating and reading each one, Allen raised his hand and said, “You did it wrong. You left out the “elemeno!” Continuing to think in the “Allen” mode, have you ever thought about why we call our letters the “alphabet” when the building blocks of that word don’t represent any of the sounds of our letters? The Greeks, of course, had an alpha and a beta. However, long before the Greeks, the Phonecians and the Jews had an alef and a bet (Hebrew still does). In addition to forming words, Hebrew letters have other functions. For instance, each Hebrew letter has a numerical value. The alef is 1. The bet is 2, and so on. In Jewish tradition, the individual letters of words, especially names, can serve as a structure for poetry, prayers, or psalms. The entire alphabet (the “alephbet” as it’s called in Hebrew) can function that way as well. The Psalm for today, Psalm 145, is such an acrostic psalm. Unfortunately, the lectionary doesn’t begin at aleph and doesn’t go all the way through “tav,” the last of the Hebrew letters. Still, it’s really a beautiful psalm. In Jewish tradition, we chant it responsively at the beginning of our afternoon service. Here’s a bit of how it sounds:
סוֹמֵ֣ךְ יְ֭הֹוָה לְכׇל־הַנֹּפְלִ֑ים וְ֝זוֹקֵ֗ף לְכׇל־הַכְּפוּפִֽים׃
עֵֽינֵי־כֹ֭ל אֵלֶ֣יךָ יְשַׂבֵּ֑רוּ וְאַתָּ֤ה נֽוֹתֵן־לָהֶ֖ם אֶת־אׇכְלָ֣ם בְּעִתּֽוֹ׃
פּוֹתֵ֥חַ אֶת־יָדֶ֑ךָ וּמַשְׂבִּ֖יעַ לְכׇל־חַ֣י רָצֽוֹן׃
צַדִּ֣יק יְ֭הֹוָה בְּכׇל־דְּרָכָ֑יו וְ֝חָסִ֗יד בְּכׇל־מַעֲשָֽׂיו׃
קָר֣וֹב יְ֭הֹוָה לְכׇל־קֹרְאָ֑יו לְכֹ֤ל אֲשֶׁ֖ר יִקְרָאֻ֣הוּ בֶֽאֱמֶֽת׃
The translation is powerful, too:
The LORD supports all who stumble and makes all who are bent stand straight.
The eyes of all look to You expectantly, and You give them their food when it is due.
You give it openhandedly, feeding every creature to its heart’s content.
The LORD is kind in all (His) ways and faithful in all (His) works.
The LORD is near to all who call (Him), to all who call (Him) with sincerity.
In other words, we can depend upon God, Yah, יהוה, the Breath-of-Life within all things, not for miracles, but rather for lifting up those bent by unjust burdens and even the humiliation of making a mistake. More so, the “Always-Beginning-and-Never-Ending is what makes the everyday occur, the provision of food, on time and bountiful.
In both this week’s Jewish testament and the text chosen from the Gospel of John in the lectionary, miraculous human intervention overrides the seemingly mundane, commonplace, and trustworthy functioning of nature. In the Second Book of Kings, we read part of the story of Elisha the prophet, a disciple and the heir of the prophet Elijah’s work. Elijah, as you may know, in Jewish tradition, because he didn’t die but instead flew off into heaven in a chariot of fire, is said to be waiting to return to humanity as the herald of the Messiah. That association spills into Elisha’s persona as well. In this week’s passage, a man comes to Elisha with part of the first-fruits offering given at Shavuot, Pentecost, the Feast of Weeks. Why did he bring some of the offering to Elisha? Elisha received his sustenance only from the positive actions of the population. These actions could not be random because Elisha, like other poor people, could not depend upon “random acts of kindness.” Jewish law mandates kindness. A part of the first fruits was set aside for “the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless, and the widow.” In other words, Jews were obliged to separate from the offering brought to the Temple something to give directly to those in need. Elisha was one of those needy. A certain man brought Elisha 20 loaves of bread and some loose grains of wheat. Elisha said to his attendants, “Give it to the people and let them eat.” One of those aides remarked that it was impossible to feed the one hundred people gathered to be with Elisha. Elisha guaranteed that there would be a sufficient amount of food and, indeed, there would be food left over. And so it was.
In the selection from John this week, we read the telling of when Jesus engaged in a similar miracle. This time, a boy brought Jesus “five small barley loves and two pieces of fish.” This time, there were one thousand people with Jesus. Once again, everyone was well satiated, and there was food left behind.
It sounds like a bit of competition between the two traditions, doesn’t it? Probably, that’s precisely what it was. Still, the competition diverts our attention from what was really occurring in these two biblical passages. What was actually happening in these two scenes wasn’t miraculous at all, certainly not from the point of view of the supposed miracle workers. Was Elisha surprised that a few loaves of bread fed one hundred people? Not at all! Was Jesus shocked that even fewer loaves of bread and a couple of pieces of fish could feed one thousand? Of course, not! Why? Because of what it says in Psalm 145 about the Divine-Thread in which we are all woven:
“The eyes of all look expectantly, and food arrives when it is due. As if from an open hand, feeding every creature to its heart’s content. The Breath-of-All is inherently kind and faithful.”
Jesus and Elisha knew it would happen that way! It’s supposed to. The people around thought it was a miracle, but Jesus and Elisha knew. The Universe provides, and distribution is up to us! Life itself is the miracle, and if we move along with its Ever-Streaming, appreciating its majesty, and preserving its faithful flow, there will always be sustenance for all and something left over.
Amen
Rabbi Neil Comess-Daniels
Rabbi-in-Residence - Mt. Olive Lutheran Church
Santa Monica, California
Sermon for:
June 25, 2021
