Take What You Need
Third Sunday in Easter | April 18, 2021
1 John 3:1-7
John 6:1-14
How much is enough? A young man and his friend had gone jogging, and when they got to the turnaround point, they thought to themselves, “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a pizza waiting for us when we get home?” These were the days before cell phones—when people had to go to a public pay phone, put some change into the slot, and then make the call. As the friends came to the pay phone, a homeless man came toward them, asking for some change. The friends emptied their pockets and said to him, “Take what you need.”
He took everything. At that point, the friends realized that they didn’t have any change for the pay phone, so they asked the man if he would help. He took everything he had and held it out, saying, “Take what you need.” They took the change needed to place the call, and the man left.
Imagine what our world would look like if this is how we operated. We hold out everything we have and tell those who don’t have enough, “Take what you need.” We hold out everything we have and tell God, “Take what you need.” Just imagine.
I recently saw a post that put our economic situation into stark reality for me. The post suggested that the average rent in the U.S. at the end of 2018 was $1419/mo. Let’s just round down to $1000/mo. Most financially-savvy people would suggest that housing—rent, mortgage, so on—should only take up one quarter of one’s income. So, that means that a household renting an apartment at $1000/mo. should bring in at least $4000/mo., or $48,000/yr. Now, I’m just keeping this simple, so I’m not factoring in taxes and such. At 40 hrs/wk., $48,000/yr. comes to an average pay of $23/hr. And yet, minimum wage is still $7.25/hr for non-tipped employees. And if it’s a single-parent household, that’s not going to get the job done. Not to mention healthcare, food, insurance, gas, bills, and clothing.
How much is enough? I guess it depends on who you ask. Billionaire Howard Hughes was once asked how much money would make him happy. His answer: “Just a little more.” But what if we asked someone who hasn’t had a meal in a couple of days? Or someone who sleeps rough—on the street? Or someone who longs to have a job but can’t afford to—because minimum wage is far from living wage? How much is enough? What if we asked the CEO’s of the companies that pay minimum wage—how much is enough? And how do we know when we’ve reached it?
It’s a matter of how we view the world and the situations around us. Today’s gospel lesson is one we probably know fairly well. It occurs once in each of the four gospels, and a second time with slightly different details in Matthew and Luke. The mass of people follow Jesus to the countryside. It’s getting late. The disciples panic about how the people will get food. Sometimes there’s a boy with something to offer; some stories there is not. And yet, Jesus acts—and all are fed.
But it may be important to lift up some details within the story to understand the context a bit better. This happens along the Sea of Galilee—also known as the Sea of Tiberius. Tiberius was a city built by Herod only about 10 years prior in order to develop trade with the Gentiles on the other side of the sea. He built it on top of a Jewish cemetery, making it unclean for Jews to go into, let alone live within. So, there’s this hub of Gentile trade from which the Jewish people cannot benefit.
Add to that Herod’s tax inflation on livestock and crops in order to benefit city life and increase the size of cities such as Tiberius. With the small plots of land owned by rural farmers, there was barely enough to feed their own families, let alone meet the tax demand placed on them by Herod and by the Romans. But if they produced less, the prices for food would go up, and their ability to feed their family would go down. They would then be forced to take out large loans to meet their needs, meaning that a year of bad crops would necessitate that they sell their possessions and even their bodies to try to pay off the creditors. And these same realities play themselves out within and among nations in very real ways, even today.
And we respond much as the disciples did. We look at the people around us, hungry for justice, hungry for hope, hungry for a home and a life that doesn’t promise tragedy at every turn. We look at one another, hungry for something meaningful; hungry for respite from caring for a loved one; hungry for purpose; hungry for companionship. We look in the mirror and see our own hunger. And all we can do is see what is missing—what is absent—--what is impossible—what we don’t have and can’t create. We look around and think, “There’s no way we can meet this level of need. It would take too much. We don’t have enough. Even with a miracle, we can’t come up with what is needed.” Like Philip, we see the problem.
Some of us may tap into our inner Andrew and grasp a nugget of possibility. Maybe, if we tweaked the taxes; if we worked harder to build Habitat Homes; if we volunteered at the food bank; if we gave a bit more, did a bit more, loved a bit more. But like Andrew, it never seems to be quite enough. He saw the boy with his lunchbox. “Well,” he said, “there’s this kid with some crappy pieces of bread and some little fishlets. But then again, disregard. What could we possibly do with that?”
The problem is too big. The problem affects them, not me. I’ve got nothing to offer—and I need to take care of myself. I need to make sure I have enough for me and mine, first.
But how much is enough? It’s a question borne from scarcity—driven by an understanding of resources that is influenced by greed and fear. Will it be enough? Don’t you hear the fear behind the question? Because what’s behind it is this: if it isn’t enough, then I will die. You can pretty much apply it to anything. If it isn’t enough treatment, the cancer will kill me. If it isn’t enough for shelter, I will die on the street. If it isn’t enough food, I will starve. If there isn’t enough rain, the crops will die. If there isn’t enough money, I will lose everything. If there isn’t enough love, I will be left alone. But how much is enough? ‘Just a little more,’ right?
Five measly loaves and two little fishlets. It isn’t enough—not for the 10-20 thousand people gathered before Jesus. And yet, he takes what is there. He tells the people not just to set up a picnic but to recline as one would at a great feast. He takes the food and blesses it—he is the host praying over this abundant meal. He breaks it and gives it—he is the servant bending low to those gathered to eat. And somehow—somehow—the food doesn’t run out. No one clamors to be first in line, just in case. No one grabs for more than they need. No one pockets a bit of leftovers for later. All eat. All are filled. All receive exactly what they need. And when the crumbs are gathered, there are more leftover morsels than what the child brought forth to begin with. Not only was there enough—there was more than enough.
I can only imagine Philip’s incredulous look at Jesus when he posed the question about where they would find the food to feed the people. “Um, is the heat getting to you, Jesus? Because you’re asking way too much of us. It’s not a fair question.”
But in the taking, the blessing, the breaking, and the giving, Jesus says, “I know you’re tired. I know you’re hungry. I know that you, too, have little to give—that you don’t have enough to do what I’m asking of you. But give me what you do have. Trust me with the little you have, and I will make it more. I will give you what you need to do what I have asked. I will make it enough.”
So, I want you to repeat after me:
God is calling me
To do something
That’s too hard to do alone.
God is calling me
To trust in God’s provision.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
