08/15/21 Sunday sermon

First Congregational Church
August 15, 2021
12th Sunday after Pentecost
Proverbs 9:1-6, John 6:51-58
“What That Other Person Said”
Rev. Dinah Haag, preaching

Just a side-note that although two scripture passages are listed, we will be using just the one from John.
The more “mature” I become, the more I realize that growing up at 214 S. Austin in Litchfield, MN was lack-luster. Dad trucked during the week, mom worked full-time as a bookkeeper during the day, when we were maybe nine or ten years old, and by the time August came around, we were at the pinnacle of boredom. One can only ride your bike around the same city block so many times in a day and the good programs on tv didn’t really start until 3:00. There were moments of inspiration, when the tool shed would get cleaned out or used as a spaceship when you climbed up on it, and the odd swimming or art class would help with morning entertainment.
Little did I know that had there been Best Western hotels back then, we could have called them, and when they answered “Best Western,” we could have said, “True Grit” and hung up, except that I never saw True Grit until I was an adult. I could have been having the time of my life, memorizing six pages from a dictionary, learning next to nothing.
Or if we’d grown up in any other state, we could have conspired to swap the labels on our mom’s spice rack, although we’d have known that our thyme was cumin. There would not have been any joy with this in Minnesota, since the only real spices we grew up with were salt and pepper and sometimes cinnamon - because, you know, Scandinavian.
It wasn’t boredom that played a big part of this morning’s message, as much as when I read the gospel passage, I thought, “Seriously?!” Today’s passage follows last week’s, in which Jesus was talking about being the Bread of Life. And when you hear it, if you recall last week’s passage, I’m going to guess that today’s will sound much like last week’s. And sure, last week we had communion, so it fit in nicely, but I was really wondering about what more could be said about this Bread Discourse that would keep all of us glued to every word.
And in equal unexcitement, the epistle passages from last week to this week are quite similar, too. But if God’s got something to say, then it behooves us to give God a chance.
John 6:51-58 51 I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.” 52 Then the Jews began to argue sharply among themselves, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” 53 Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. 54 Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day. 55 For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. 56 Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in them. 57 Just as the living Father sent me and I live because of the Father, so the one who feeds on me will live because of me. 58 This is the bread that came down from heaven. Your ancestors ate manna and died, but whoever feeds on this bread will live forever.”
Thank you, Sonia. I’m guessing I’m not the only one who has had an experience of frustration coming close to tearing hair out in trying to come up with something good - whether it be picking the right birthday card or finding your next vehicle. And then, just like that, something catches your eye, and the realm of possibility opens like magic.
In this week’s case, it was the Rev. Dr. Janet H. Hunt, Lutheran pastor from the realm of northern Illinois and the beginning sentence of a blog she posted in 2015. “Every time I travel to Minneapolis, I do all I can to make time to drop in at my favorite used bookstore.”
Oh my goodness! Did she mix up Minneapolis and St. Paul, because there was the one on the corner of University Avenue that was so old and so unique and millions of people must have gone through the doors of that incredibly busy section of town. Or maybe it was the one on Grand Avenue, the children’s bookstore just off Summit Avenue that was in the cool part of town, nestled next to the mini castles and mansions from the lumber and railroad eras. Or maybe it was St. Patrick’s Guild and even though it’s a Catholic bookstore, they have the most gorgeous, rich, beautiful stoles and robes and high church items. Before you know it, that one sentence has taken you down a rabbit hole of memories that you hadn’t expected, and discovered a lovely little surprise in the course of a regular day, that you didn’t realized you remembered, just because of “What That Other Person Said.”
Rev. Hunt never did reveal the name of the bookstore, but the big treasure for her on one particular day was all of $3.50, entitled, “Sourdough Breads and Coffee Cakes: 104 Recipes Using Homemade Starters by Ada Lou Roberts, published in 1967. It seems that it wasn’t any one particular recipe, but the history of bread that caught Rev. Hunt’s attention, and mine, and maybe yours.
Forgive my Scottish pronunciations. The fine, white bread in Scotland known as "manchet," was reserved for royalty and the great landlords. "Cheat," was the second finest grade, for the upper-class tradesmen. "Raveled" bread was made from the whole grain flour just as it came from the mill to be consumed by the country folk and villagers just above the servant class. "Mashloch" was baked for the very poor and the servants. It contained only coarse bran mixed with rye. And isn’t there great irony that the grains used in the bread for the lower classes were actually better for a person than the more refined flour enjoyed by the privileged?
Even for the gluten-sensitives, I hope that somewhere in your store of mental floppy disks there is a memory of a bread - flat or raised, gummy processed white or any of the beautiful colors of other grained breads, that is swirling in your head like a good cinnamon and raisin swirl. Because it’s so true, that there’s nothing like a smell to bring back a memory. And had it not been for “what that Rev. Hunt person said,” that caused a slight memory chase - a little off course, that memory might not have been recalled today, accompanied by the smile I see on faces with your own memories.
Rev. Hunt then spoke of the insight that came out of a sourdough starter that ended up in the back of her fridge for a few weeks, unfed and unattended. If sourdough is left on the counter - for easy access, it has to be fed twice a day: in the fridge, just once a day, although it can go for a week. And to feed sourdough, you throw away all but a 1/2 cup, give it a 1/2 cup of room temperature water and a little under 1 cup of flour and mix it all up. When it grows to twice it’s size, it’s ready to use.
The starter that Rev. Hunt forgot about in her busyness? When she finally peeked into the crock all the way in the back of the fridge, she said it wasn’t pretty, and she even considered throwing it all out and starting over. But she did what she was supposed to do, discarding all but a 1/2 cup and fed it with new water and flour. After stirring and letting it sit, she fed it again, stirred and let it sit. The resiliency of bread resulted not only in the starter surviving, but thriving. In Christ, a little can do a lot. In Christ, his living and dying and rising reminds us that life triumphs over death, even when it seems impossible. And in Christ, what can look like a disaster ought not be casually tossed aside, because in Christ, possibilities are endless.
Rev. Hunt was told that the starter she uses has been nurtured and passed down for more than 300 years. That Rev. Hunt person inferred the idea of imagining how many generations the starter was used for the bread that fed the people of the Bible - from the beginning to the very moment that preceded the passages for today.
When the Israelites were escaping the Pharaoh of Egypt and the Angel of Death, they didn’t have time for waiting on rising bread. So the manna that God gave them may have been a little lack-luster, long about week five or six or one hundred or week five hundred or week two thousand eighty four of the two thousand eighty five they spent in the desert - or thereabouts.
Even after they settled into the promised land, and maybe found some bread starter in their new home, it wouldn’t be like it was in Egypt, because yeast takes on different flavors depending where it’s nurtured, just like us. We may start in a Methodist setting, or a Catholic one, or an Orthodox one, and when we come to this particular container of God’s family, we tend to take on a little different flavor than our brothers and sisters at Trinity Lutheran, St. Andrew Presbyterian or even Benzonia Congregational. And different flavors of understanding and practicing faith isn’t bad or good. They’re just different and God loves us all the same.
Then, of course, the starter that was brought to this community, over 150 years ago, has been fed by each subsequent generation, as we feed the next ones. Painting the bottom of the church is not all about aesthetics, but also about “feeding” the starter that will be used in future generations. Signing up for treats after church isn’t about the treats, but about feeding the future generations, giving them connections and contacts and context to come back, and even bringing others with them, even after some of those present today will have gone on to eternal life.
It wasn’t something that that other person said, but something that I actually thought of. I’m guessing that we don’t often think about bread before it’s baked - the air bubbles, the sticky, tacky texture some sorts have. Or that different doughs need different attention. Many needing to be kneaded do better with human hands rather than metal machines. Some need rest before baking. Even if there is no sugar in them, they definitely do better with a little salt to be satisfying. Isn’t it remarkable how much bread is like humans?
That idea of bread needing to be kneaded, the human interaction of it, the molding and shaping of it, add that as an overlay to the scene with the 5,000 plus on a hillside on a regular old day in August or October or whenever it took place all those centuries ago, and that “miracle” is more organic and connected and life-giving that we may give it at a first glance. Then you add all that onto Christ’s identity as the living bread, it’s way deeper than a good many of us ever realize.
“What that Other Person Said,” as so often in life, can take us places we may never have anticipated. How mystical and mighty the words we utter, that can lead people down rabbit holes of memory and nurture and life. Which is cause for us to rise up in with the yeast of prayer.
Holy God of life - of all sorts - how rich we are - surrounded by all the ways you give us to see you in this world. Help us to override boredom with insight, apathy with wisdom and insensitivity with delicacy. Forgive us when we fail to allow people to rise to their potentials in the words or action we use that hold the potential to raise up or  crush out the air of hope. Thank you for the rabbit holes of memories that can brighten our days and allow us breaks we didn’t know we needed. Help us to be generous with what we say, that more of your people can feed more of your people. For all the bread you have passed down to us, and for all that we will assist in handing out, all your people say, Amen.