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There are two stories stretched out here before us this morning like blankets on the grass– and between them, an infinite world

of possibility and disappointment,

the possibility of making a real difference in a big, hard world

or the alternative that, by holding on to what we think we have,

what we know we believe with all the strength of our desperation and fear,

we may find ourselves hustled without explanation out the door and down the steps of the holy place, squinting into the bright sun, blinking back tears of hot shame and baffled disbelief.

How, after all we have done, after all we have tried so hard to be, could it end so badly?

How could the small choices of even smaller people matter so much?

Make no mistake, the invitation to come and hear Jesus is a dangerous one…for all of us.

On the green grass, sitting by the thousands, listening for a word from Jesus, a word from God, are, I imagine, all kinds of people.

By contrast, in the Temple, where the other story tells us Jesus became so uncompromisingly angry that day, there were only one.

But more about them, later—

When I think about the first story, one of my favorites in scripture, I see my grandparents, cousins, and brother, running under the trees past the picnic tables on Granddad’s Bluff, and hear our parents warning us sharply not to stray too close to the cliff’s edge … … our own children, lined up with sponges in their hands, being chased by a hose-bearing elder, shrieking in delight..I see friends from this church, waving from their blankets on a small rise on the golf course near the Biltmore hotel, wilting in the humid air, but happy to be gathering on the fourth of July to share a picnic with thousands of neighbors and watch the sky explode with color and light…

There was the smell of the foods of many cultures

the dark tints of bottles of wine, poured out,

the warm, yeasty odor of stacks of French loaves, fresh from the oven, the rich smell of meats grilling with a thousand different spices…when I think about this story, and remember all of its associations, I feel happy, welcomed, at home.

So it’s hard to read the end of this story…when the disciples of Jesus, and all his new friends, sit together and listen until the day fades and another kind of hunger rises, and with it, fear.

The teacher looked with compassion on the crowd because they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he began to teach them many things. When it grew late, his disciples came to him and said This is a deserted place, and the hour is now very late; send them away so that they may go into the surrounding villages and buy something for themselves to eat. But he answered them: You Give Them Something to Eat.

Where are the mothers, reaching into their baskets, passing jugs of wine and loaves of bread to be broken and shared? Where are the fathers with their dried catches of fish, flaky and flavorful? Where are the children and the neighbors, making room on the green grass for a new friend, a seldom-seen acquaintance?

Don’t you get it? Jesus says. It’s a picnic! Everyone shares, everyone gives a little, everyone eats, and everyone is satisfied. But the disciples can’t remember, and they don’t have enough, and darkness is falling, and they are feeling threatened, hungry, and scarce. There had always been enough before, but, the story says: they didn’t understand about the Bread.

Now, before you judge them, before you say—how could they have not believed? how is it they didn’t understand? think about us, about what we have, and what we lack, and how easy it is, really, to forget about the Bread, and see only what we lack, when the dark is coming on, and the world is a hard and deserted place. Think about how, just a month ago, when the janitors and groundspeople who keep the grass green across the street at the University of Miami made public their fight for better wages and health care, how hard it was for the community to get that it was our responsibility to “give them something to eat.” The president of the university, Dr. Shalala, an ethical person, committed to health care for the poor, said that the responsibility lay with others, and encouraged those others to act…and it’s true, there are systems and agents in charge of such things. And My loaf and My piece of fish doesn’t really seem to have much to do with the Big Picture, usually….

But I like this green grass story that lies so close to home because it seems to me in a way, that, for a change, the disciples—who are, after all, all of us—got it when Jesus said—you get them healthcare, you get them something to eat…

In Miami’s own version of five loaves and two fish, the students petitioned, the faculty urged, the local interfaith and members of synagogues and churches wrote postcards and rallied the religious community, the press kept it all public, the hungry helped themselves…and look: passion was gathered, concern was awakened, space was made, resources were found: most everyone donated some of what they had to give…and the university said: we’ve listened to our community.

And the picnic is underway…and there are more to follow.

And he ordered them to sit down in groups on the Green grass. And taking the bread and the fish, he looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people, and all ate and were filled.

All ate and were filled, sitting on the green grass which had,

just moments before, been a dark and deserted place

And maybe for a minute, or two, the disciples get it:

That everybody brings something to the Table.

And everyone is supposed to remember about the bread—

That it is our job to remember, and to understand, and to listen to Jesus when he says: you give them something to eat..

Whatever it is. Whatever the issue.

Even if we do not know what we have to offer

And we do not know what on earth God can do with such

small and paltry gifts…anything we bring that is authentic, that comes from our heart of Love, is valuable to God, and God can use it.

And as long as we are willing to offer up what we have,

A fish, a piece of bread,

An hour,

An idea,

A letter, a room,

without reservation,

For the good of the whole community

It is valuable to God, and God can use it.

But if we are not: if we are not willing,

Then we might be the other kind of people,

The people from the story in the gospel of John

Who were hustled out of the temple where they were buying and selling

And left out on the steps.

It’s not that they were buying and selling that was the problem, I think

For not everyone who comes to the Temple to make a sacrifice has the right kind of coin, the proper offering.

Buyers and Sellers can also offer what they have

Valuable to God.

But what was wrong

What enraged Jesus

Was that these buyers and sellers cared nothing for the Other

Nothing for the Temple

Nothing for the community of which they were a part

Nothing for the Holy which the Temple represented.

They cared only for themselves

And their profit

The bottom line.

If by chance they had cared enough to come to the deserted place

to listen to Jesus

You can bet your life on one thing:

They would have been prepared with bread and fish

Commodities that they would not have shared

But would have sold

To the highest bidder.

And the grass would not have been green

And there would not have been enough

And they would have gone away rich

And hungry

I don’t know what you bring this morning

But I know you

I know you bring something

And that God can use it.

And I believe that the only wrong thing is to withdraw

And to refuse one another

And to refuse God.

So I beg you—not to sit on your hands and

Withhold sharing what you have brought

Your presence. Your heart. Your questions, your ideas

Your time. Your money.

Your prayers

Your grief or your joy

Because there are too many places

In this war-torn world, in our own community, nearby

That are deserted, where some people are hungry, while others are hoarding what they have, because they don’t understand about the bread…even though God is saying, over and over, You Give Them Something to Eat.

This is our story: we are the ones who remember the field of green grass

Where families and friends are celebrating…and how Jesus is reminding us

that we must freely give whatever we have brought to this place

So the Master can do something with it.

And sooner or later,

We will understand. Amen.