“No Small Potatoes”

First Congregational United Church of Christ

November 20, 2011

The Rev. Sharyl B. Peterson

 

Scripture Readings:  Psalm 36: 5-10; John 10:10; Ephesians 3: 16-21

 

It may surprise some of you to learn that for UCC pastors – most especially for those of us who come out of the Congregational side of our tradition – preparing a sermon for the Sunday before Thanksgiving is a real challenge.  And just in case you don’t know a lot about the history of our denomination, that challenge comes from the fact that the Congregational side of our United Church is descended fairly directly from the Pilgrims, whom we are especially likely to remember on this coming Thursday’s holiday.  And the challenge is this:  do we preach on how wonderful those courageous people were, who left Europe at least partly in order to practice their religion freely, or preach about their pluckiness in establishing a new colony in a new land, or about their hospitality in (as so many of the older history books put it), “inviting their Indian neighbors to celebrate the harvest with them” on what came to be called the First Thanksgiving. 

            Or do we bite the bullet, and deal with some of the harsher realities that historians have revealed in the Pilgrims’ story?  Like the fact that their very first act in this new land was to loot the grain-stores that the Indians had set aside for the upcoming winter, because the Pilgrims were starving after their long and terrible sea-voyage.  Or the even more disconcerting fact that at that First Thanksgiving, it wasn’t in fact the Pilgrims who provided most of the feast, but the Indians … the Wampanoag people, without whose help the Pilgrims would never have survived in the new land.  The Indians, who showed up like Uncle Fred and Aunt Betty and Grandma and Cousin Nell at our Thanksgiving dinners now, one of them carrying some meat to roast, and another one with a big dish of cranberries, and another one with her world-famous squash pie for dessert.  The truth is, the whole romanticized Pilgrims-and-Indians-and-Thanksgiving thing gets complicated, with the Pilgrims being as much (if not more) the recipients of others’ generosity, rather than being the benefactors.

And so, instead of preaching about Thanksgiving on this particular Sunday, since so many churches are also observing Stewardship Season this time of year, a lot of preachers decide to preach on that instead.  I’d bet dollars to doughnuts that this morning that any number of pastors across this nation are talking about the Occupy Wall Street movement, or about how well (if at all) Jesus might play the popular board-game of Monopoly, or about the truly wretched state of the economy which most of us are dealing with every single day of our very real lives … and, oh yes, what any of those have to do with faith, and with stewardship.

            I’d bet they’re using their very best stewardship jokes repertoire, like the one about the pastor who stood up to preach the Fall Stewardship Sermon in his church, and said, “I have some good news for you and some bad news.  The good news is:  in this church we have way more than enough money than is needed to cover all of our expenses.  The bad news is:  that money is still in your pockets.” 

            But after considerable thought and struggle over this, I decided that whatever I preach this morning really is, in the favorite new expression of an acquaintance of mine, “small potatoes.”  Whether I choose to prepare and preach this morning on Pilgrims or on protestors, on buying Boardwalk and Park Place to make a killing for ourselves or on buying beans and porridge to make a living for others, on giving or on getting, the reality is, whatever your level of gratitude is during this season of harvest, and whatever your level of giving to the church is during this season of stewardship, are not going to result from what I tell you about anything, but from your lived experience of faith, from your lived relationship with God, from your lived discipleship with Jesus. 

            Those last three things are not small potatoes.  What I might have to say about them, in many ways, is. 

            Any jokes I might tell are small potatoes, too.  Because the reason that pastors tell jokes – especially about stewardship – is to try to decrease their parishioners’ anxiety.  And they do that because every pastor worth his or her salt knows that just about everyone in the church gets all knotted up emotionally and spiritually time of year. 

After 18 years of preaching, I know that no matter how many sermons I may have preached about this, or that you may have heard other ministers preach about it, ever since you received the letter from our church announcing the commencement of Stewardship Season

(unless you immediately tossed it into the round-file in your house), you’ve been worrying about:  how much should I give this year?  how much can I give, and still have enough to live on?  what if someone else gives more than I do?  what if other people give less than I do?  am I going to be judged by how much I do or don’t give this year?  (That last one I can answer – only our Financial Clerk and Church Treasurer know specifically how much anyone gives – I don’t, and no-one else does either – so you are certainly not going to be judged by anyone because no-one will know what you gave or didn’t give (the down-side of which might be, you’re also not going to be commended by anyone either).)

            But those aren’t really the questions our faith calls us to chew on at this time of year, anyway.  Our faith calls us to think instead about things like how have I been blessed this year?  how do I feel about those blessings?  how do I relate those blessings to my understanding of God and how God acts in the world?  how can I share at least some part of what I have with “others,” whether “others” are one other person, or a couple of other people, or a whole bunch of people (like my church or like the Salvation Army)?  how do my choices about sharing – about giving – or not giving – affect my relationship with God?  how do they affect my growth in faith?  how do they affect how others may or may not experience the good news? 

            Good news like “our God is an extraordinarily generous God.”  Good news like the stuff we heard celebrated in Psalm 36 this morning:  “your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds; your righteousness is like the mighty mountains … how precious is God’s love, where all people may take refuge … (and may) feast on the abundance of God’s house, and … drink from the river of God’s delights.”  Good news like the promise – the fact – that you and I are loved … loved more widely and deeply and broadly than we can begin to imagine, by the One who created us, who breathed the very breath of life into us.  Good news like the endlessly-repeated demonstration that with God, size doesn’t matter. 

Which brings me back to the issue of “small potatoes.”  Small potatoes like you and me.  Small potatoes like the gifts we bring.  Small potatoes that God loves, adores, cherishes, values – and uses, all the time, to help transform the world. 

            In God’s economy, every gift that we give – every gift of self, or of time, or of resources – matters.  In God’s economy, there is nothing that goes to waste, nothing that God cannot use.  In God’s economy, even the smallest of things – and of people – and of actions – can be used to help bring more justice … or love … or goodness into the world. 

            Like the simple leather slingshot – and the courage – of a little working-class kid named David, who spent his days out in the back of beyond trying to keep tabs on his dad’s sheep … and who became the greatest (secular) king in Jewish history.  Like the quickly-prepared lunch – and the falling-down laughter – and the slimmest of hopes – of a woman named Sarai who lived in a goatskin tent in the desert … and who became the “mother of nations” of God’s beloved people.  Like the massive confusion – and the we-don’t-know-how-large-it-was faith – and the quiet, simple “yes” of a teenaged girl named Mary, doing her daily chores in a little mud-brick house in a little out-of-the-way burg called Nazareth.

            Over and over through our faith history, we see how God takes the tiniest little bits of things … a cup of flour and a few drops of oil, offered by a starving widow to a hungry traveler, a willingness to – just once – let go of control and let God be in charge, a tiny glimmer of hope … a miniscule amount of trust … a momentarily-open heart … bits of faith so small they’re barely visible … and God changes the world for all time.

            It’s a lesson that God’s Son – the man we call Jesus of Nazareth –  a man who had next to nothing by way of material things – understood completely.  It’s a lesson that He too taught, over and over. 

            Historians tell us that Jesus grew up dirt-poor.  He grew up in a working-class home, with a homemaker mom, and a father whose trade was on the low end of the pay-scale.  His parents probably worried about money a lot – just like most of us do.  They probably had trouble paying their bills – just like most of us do.  And their son … Son of God or not … lived and died a peasant.  And yet … he understood how valuable even a little bit of something could be … and that it was possible to change even something very small into something very large. 

            Like the time He takes a little wad of mud and spit … refuse from the ground … and gives a man back his eyesight … and changes that man’s life – that man’s world – forever (Jn. 9).  Or the time Jesus takes a kid’s lunch – a couple of dinner-rolls and bites of fish … and gives a feast for several thousand people (Mt. 14-15; Mk. 6; Lk. 9)… a feast so abundant they were all left groaning and burping, and cleaning up baskets of leftovers to take home when it was over … changing their understandings of God’s generosity and possibilities forever. 

            Jesus reminded anyone who would listen, over and over, “I came that you might have life, and have it abundantly.”  And oh yes … “pass it on.”

            And God is still doing that.  Still taking the smallest of offerings, and making something immense out of them.  And we know that because alongside all of the bad news in the newspapers is the occasional report of some remarkably good news. 

            Like kids in a local school who know what it’s like to be hungry themselves, but they started a can-drive to feed other hungry children.  Or the kid who asks if he can give away his jacket to his school-mate who doesn’t have a jacket, and his mom or dad takes him shopping

so they can buy a jacket for the child, and some warm gloves and hats for other kids too. 

            Or one of our very own little kids, who is only four years old, who came up during Coffee Hour last Sunday to tell me she had found some money on the floor in a friend’s house, and her friend let her keep the money.  When I asked her how much money she had, we counted out the dime and the nickel and the three pennies together … 18 cents.  And when I asked her what she was going to do with the money, she said after church she was going shopping, and

“buy noodles for hungry people.” 

Does anyone sitting here believe that the God who was so generous that God gave us the gift of Christ … the God who can take even the smallest amount and do wonders with it – does anyone sitting here believe that that God turns up God’s nose – or sneers at – or belittles – that little girl’s gift?  I surely don’t. 

            I believe that God rejoices – laughs out loud with glee – claps His or Her hands with delight – is thrilled beyond measure that that little girl – at four years old – already has a generous heart.  And that her gift of 18 cents’ worth of noodles is going to transform the world of one hungry person.  Just like our gifts – of our selves, of our time, of our energy, of our talents, and yes, of our money – whether to this church, or to some other organization that helps those who need help – help to transform this world each and every day. 

            It’s precisely what Paul was talking about in that portion of his letter to the church at Ephesus that we heard this morning:  “I pray that, according to the riches of God’s glory, God may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through the Holy Spirit,

and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are rooted and grounded in love… Now to (the One) who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to (that One) be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

            More than we can ask or imagine.  God can take what we give, and accomplish things beyond our wildest imaginations. 

And the joy of offering our gifts as part of a faith community and of participating in God’s work as part of a faith community is that together, all of our small gifts add up to a much larger gift than any of us could have given alone.  That one person’s dollar, and another person’s ten dollars, and someone else’s hundred dollars – and someone else’s 18 cents – all go together

to help bring about that world of abundance … of justice … and of joy that God longs for this world to become.

            I think we need to remember that back on that First Thanksgiving, not a single individual brought – or could bring – the whole feast.  Not a single person could bring a whole deer.  Or enough turkeys to feed the gathered people.  Nor even enough corn to make stuffing for everyone. 

            But together, the community could … and way back then, just as this day when we dedicate our Stewardship gifts, just as this coming Thursday when we gather around tables together in this time, every single contribution mattered and matters still.  Every single gift made a difference – makes a difference – in the texture and the richness and the wonder of the shared meal. 

            Aunt Ruth’s famous yeast rolls.  Uncle Herman’s famous almost-too-hot-to-eat-but-boy-is-it-good jalapeno cranberry sauce.  Cousin Tink’s famous small potatoes          with peas and water chestnuts and mushroom soup sauce. 

            As we offer our gifts to one another on Thanksgiving … and as we offer them this morning to our church-family … may we too rejoice – laugh out loud with glee – clap our hands with delight – be thrilled beyond measure at everyone’s generous hearts, and by all the ways in which we are all blessed by the giving and by the receiving.  Amen.