Proper Thirteen 08/04/24
The Still Point
A Time of Meditation and Reflection
The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost
Proper Thirteen
... At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance...
T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton
Peace on each one who comes in need;
Peace on each one who comes in joy.
Peace on each one who offers prayers;
Peace on each one who offers song.
Peace of the Maker, Peace of the Son,
Peace of the Spirit, the Triune One.
Opening Prayer
Praise to you, God, for all your work among us. Yours is the vigor in creation, yours is the impulse in our new discoveries. Make us adventurous, yet reverent and hopeful in all we do. Amen.
The Gospel Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The next day, when the people who remained after the feeding of the five thousand saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you. For it is on him that God the Father has set his seal.” Then they said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” So they said to him, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” Then Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”
Poem: “Fish, Tea, and Rice” by Linda Gregg
It is on the Earth that all things transpire,
and only on the Earth. On it, up out of it,
down into it. Wading and stepping, pulling
and lifting. The heft in the seasons.
Knowledge in the bare ankle under water
amid the rows of rice seedlings. The dialogue
of the silent back and forth, the people moving
together in flat fields of water with the patina
of the sky upon it, the green shoots rising up
from the mud, sticking up seamlessly above the water.
The water buffalo stepping through as they work,
carrying the weight of their bodies along the rows.
The wrists of the people wet under the water,
planting or pulling up. It is this Earth that all
meaning is. If love unfolds, it unfolds here.
Here where Heaven shows its face. Christ's agony
flowers into grace, spikes through the hands
holding the body in place, arms reaching wide.
It breaks our heart on Earth. Ignorance mixed
with longing, intelligence mixed with hunger.
The genius of night and sleep, being awake
and at work. The sacred in the planting, the wading
in mud. Eating what is here. Fish, bread, tea, rice.
Meditation
In today's Gospel, Jesus first seems to rebuke those who have sought and found him, implying that their interest in him was "because you ate your fill of the loaves," and not for any more transcendent purpose or sign. In his own wonderfully slippery way, Jesus sets a sort of trap for his followers, who fall right in, asking "what sign are you going to give us then?". The answer Jesus gives takes his followers, paradoxically enough, right back to the very bread they had consumed as part of the five hundred: I am the Bread of Life.
We are left with all sorts of wondering conclusions that remind us of Jesus's incarnational role. For one, Jesus brings everyone right back down to earth. He seems to be saying that our life with God all starts with bread and all that it implies: the companionship (literally "together with bread") of worship; the creation of something fundamentally fulfilling out of disparate parts; the Eucharist; the breaking of bread as a reminder of Christ's broken body and our own brokenness.
This 'down-to-earth'-ness is portrayed wonderfully in Linda Gregg's poem, which swaps out bread and wine for rice and tea (and still manages to include loaves and fishes!). In her poem, Gregg asks us to consider the holiness of every aspect of our earthiness, from our ignorance and mud-wading to our intelligence and slumber. She starts with a provocative claim that Earth is really all we have, and yet within that seemingly limited scope there is divinity in humanity, transcendence in struggle, heaven on earth, and even eternal life in plain old rice.
Questions for Reflection
In our time away from an in-person Eucharist, what has hunger felt like to you? (Or, in our pandemic times, what has the yearning for companionship felt like to you?)
If you have been able to partake of the host in person in the recent months, what has that return felt like? (Or, if you have been able to 'break bread' with friends or family lately, what has that return to companionship felt like?)
What might it mean for you personally to never be hungry or thirsty?
So many of the inequities and crises of our world have to do with the cultivation of, access to, and consumption of food. How does Jesus's "Bread of Life" statement help you navigate those inequities and crises?
If Jesus is the Bread of Life and we are the Body of Christ, what role can we play in alleviating the literal and metaphorical hunger of the world?
Prayers
We bring before God someone whom we have met or remembered today
We bring to God someone who is hurting tonight and needs our prayer
We bring to God a troubled situation in our world
We bring to God, silently, someone whom we find hard to forgive or trust
We bring ourselves to God that we might grow in generosity of spirit, clarity of mind, and warmth of affection
We offer our thanks to God for the blessings in our lives
We name before God those who have died.
Gracious God, you hear all our prayers: those we speak aloud, those we hold in our hearts, and those prayers for which we have no words. Hear the prayers of your people, and grant them as may be best for us, for the sake of your holy name. Amen.
Accept our thanks for all you have done, O God. Our hands were empty, and you filled them.
May Christ’s holy, healing, enabling Spirit be with us every step of the way, and be our guide as our road changes and turns, and the blessing of God our Creator, Redeemer and Giver of life be among us now and remain with us forever. Amen.
Reflections this month offered by: Matt Bentley
Artwork Cover: Wheat Field on a Summer Day, Aleko
