Food for Thought

Sermon

Those first few weeks into his resurrected life, Jesus had a few things going on. After appearing to Mary Magdalene and the disciples, letting that doubting Thomas touch his wounds, he appeared to the disciples who had gone about their usual work of fishing. After a rather miraculous catch, Jesus and the disciples are enjoying breakfast on the beach. Jesus takes Peter aside, and asks him three times if he – Peter – loves him – Jesus.

Most scholars think that this story is told to show Jesus’ love for Peter and his forgiveness of Peter, who denied knowing Jesus three times. And hearing Peter’s affirmation of his love, Jesus commands him, in love, to feed and care for his sheep and lambs. Peter knew what he meant – that out of love for Jesus, he (and any who followed Jesus) would care for others, especially the vulnerable.

I love this scene. In fact, it was the scripture I chose for my ordination service some 27 years ago. For me – and maybe for you – it captures my sense of call, my own response to my love of God and God’s love for me. Care for one another; feed people, look after folks. And maybe show some love while you’re at it.

During this time of staying home and avoiding this virus, I’ve thought a lot about feeding people and about food – food for the soul, food for the mind, food for the body.

Many people I know have found themselves seeking out new ways to connect with their spiritual journey, to reach out in different ways to their God. Many of you know we offer daily prayer at noon on Facebook Live, and we have over 200 people engaging with those prayers – live or later – every day. That says something to me. I think it shows a hunger to be with one another, even if it’s only seeing someone’s name on a screen, and a desire to share with each other and with God all that is nestled in our hearts.

Some people are picking up their Bibles again; others are working to deepen their prayer life. Still others are finding meaning in meditations and poetry – something that touches the soul. If there is a gift in this pandemic, maybe it is a gift of time to look into such things or an urge to go deeper than we have.

I’ve always found the blessings of John O’Donohue a comfort, but this one in particular speaks to me in this time:

This is the time to be slow
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

For some, this time of slowing down, this period of emptiness – empty homes, empty calendars – is like a big open door for those demons that live in our minds. I don’t mean literal demons, things out of hell, perhaps, but the demons of anxiety and worry, the demons of “what if,” the demons of grabbing on to any nugget of information, whether it is true or not.

Do you know what I mean? My sister and my mother, who both have been known to wake up at four with those mind-demons at work, call it monkey-brain. Little monkeys swinging from synapse to synapse, taking all flotsam and jetsam of the day’s news and the phone calls and the texts and the
e-mails and twisting them into some sort of Salvador Dali art.

How are we feeding our minds these days? How much news are we consuming and from what source? There really is fake news out there, my friends, and it looks so much like reality-based, scientifically true news. You have to do your research. More than that, how much news does any of us need to consume? Are our brains better served by Lester Holt with the NBC Nightly News or with the true story of Ernest Shackleton, who survived a deadly trek across Antarctica? Which is better nutrition for the mind, YouTube videos exploring weird conspiracy theories, or a volume of Mary Oliver’s poetry, or even, for heaven’s sake, reading a psalm a day?

I’m not saying we should bury our heads in the sand, but just as we are advised to mind how much sugar, alcohol, and white flour we’re ingesting, so we might notice how we are feeding our minds.

But on sugar, alcohol, and white flour: friends, I don’t know about your households, but ours has experienced a renaissance of baking. In mostly a good way… but not always. So I’ve been thinking a lot about what we’re putting into our bodies, and more than that, who is struggling to find food.

For the last four Fridays, I have driven my big car over to the alley behind the Hollywood Trader Joe’s to pick up their donations of almost-expired food for NEFP, the Northeast Emergency Food Program. I’m a big fan of that organization, which does an amazing job of keeping our hungry neighbors fed. There are many such organizations in the greater Portland area; I’m just most acquainted with NEFP.

They have been giving food out at five times their normal rate because folks have lost their jobs and cannot afford the grocery store, but also because stores like Trader Joe’s and companies like Sysco, and other nonprofits like the Oregon Food Bank, are supporting them.

Portland Monthly reported on a great story about feeding people, and I hope you’ll pardon my language as I quote parts of the story directly. A Portland woman named Whitney Rutz was having a hard time at the beginning of this shut-in period of COVID-19. Two of her friends were diagnosed with the virus, and she saw no end in sight to all the things we were losing. She said, “I started to spiral into despair,” recalling that week in mid-March. “So I said, I’m going to bake a giant cinnamon roll to cheer the house up.”

After she posted a picture of that first cinnamon roll, her friends wanted in on one. She said to her husband, “What if I made a cinnamon roll and auctioned it off for charity? How much do you think people would spend?” She thought people might spend $50, which she would donate to charity, and that would be that. 

“But the first roll made $300. And people immediately asked her when the next bid window would open. So she made another. And another. The rolls just kept selling for more and more, with the third one going for $1,125. The Oregon Food Bank responded with a personal fundraising page, and the mission evolved from auctioning off every roll to making a roll for a healthcare worker for every $500 donated.”

Before she knew it, and with help from some well known friends, “Giant Ass Cinnamon Roll” was born, and word got out. “I thought maybe we would raise $2,000,” says Rutz. The total raised is now more than $20,000, which at the Oregon Food Bank translates into more than 50,000 meals. Every single penny goes to Oregon Food Bank, with Rutz paying the bill for all the ingredients.

“It’s not a cheap endeavor,” admits Rutz. “But I am still employed and am so grateful for that. I’m so happy to do it, my heart has not felt this good in so long. And I truly don’t know how I would feel if I didn’t have something happy to focus on right now.”
(https://www.pdxmonthly.com/coronavirus/2020/04/the-giant-cinnamon-roll-that-s-feeding-thousands-of-oregonians/)

How are we feeding our neighbors, our fellow sheep and lambs?

I don’t know about you, but I have felt pretty helpless at times during this pandemic. I can’t do much to make things better, and the need is so great. For me, it helps to focus on something, so I am focusing on food, on feeding people. There are other worthy things we can do, from home, and I encourage you to consider what those might be.

It all comes down to love – the love our God in Christ has for all of us, and the love that we are called to show each other. That love might look like a name on Facebook that is praying with you, or it might look like a conversation had over a fence, or it might even look like a giant cinnamon roll.

Love will not cure this virus, but love is the only way we will get through this pandemic.
To the glory of God.