No Equipment Needed (Mark 6: 1-13)

 Sermon: “No Equipment Needed”

It’s hard to believe that our 2024 church camp season is mostly over. JYF, Chi-Rho, CYF, You & Me, and Beginners have all taken place. 

There is a weekend young adult camp happening July 26-28, and a Family Camp over Labor Day weekend, but the core youth camps have all concluded.

When youth go to camp, they don’t come home the same. For the most part, that’s a good thing. At camp, kids learn to live in community, they experience intense spiritual growth, and they develop a greater understanding of themselves as well as of God, and what God is calling them to do and be in the world.

In all these ways, they come home changed.

Jesus had changed a lot since the last time he was at home. In the time since he was home last, he had been baptized; he had spent 40 days in the wilderness, guided by the Spirit and facing temptation; and he had begun his ministry.

That’s a lot.

In many ways, Jesus was no longer the same person now than he was when he left home. He had grown, matured, and gained a greater understanding of his identity and his purpose. Kind of like our youth when they come home from camp, but even more so.

When Jesus returned to his home village, he went to the synagogue and began to teach, and the people who knew him (which was everyone, since Nazareth was such a small village) weren’t quite sure what to make of him. 

Jesus taught with authority, and they weren’t sure how to receive an authoritative teaching from one they had once taught. They were offended by his audacity. “Who does he think he is?” they asked. They couldn’t see that he was still the same Jesus they knew, but that he had matured, grown, gained new understanding and wisdom. They couldn’t accept that this one who they had taught now wanted to teach them.

A few months ago, when we had our Youth Sunday worship, I watched how this congregation reacted to the leadership of our youth, many of whom had gone to camp in past years, and many of whom had had other experiences that allowed them to grow in wisdom and understanding. I saw how this congregation accepted and welcomed their leadership, and was even willing to learn from those whom we have taught and raised, many from the day they were born.

What a blessing it is to learn from and be taught by those we once taught and helped raise. It’s too bad the people of Nazareth missed out on that blessing.

So Jesus left Nazareth, and went to some of the other villages in the area. His twelve disciples were with him, watching him, learning from him… and then Jesus sent them out on their own, without him. They were ready, although they may not have felt ready. Does a baby bird ever feel ready to fly the first time it leaps out of the nest?

When my boys were in boy scouts, I’d watch their boy scout troop elect a new senior patrol leader every six months. In a boy scout troop, the senior patrol leader is the one scout who runs the meetings. He’s the one in charge.

And every time they elected one of their own to lead them, I’d look at the scout they chose, and think: “Oh, he’s not ready. He’s too young, he doesn’t yet have the experience he needs to lead…”

And everytime, I was proven wrong. Every time!

It’s true, there was a bit of a learning curve,

and they did make some mistakes. But every time, they grew into their role as senior patrol leader, and did a far better job than I would have predicted.

I think it was the same with the disciples. They may not have felt ready, but Jesus was sending them out anyway. He knew that they would make some mistakes, he knew they still had some things to learn, but he also knew that now was the time for them to take that leap, leave the nest, and learn how to fly.

I wonder how many of you who were elected officers last week feel the same. Some of you were elected board officers, some of you were elected elders and deacons… some of you for the first time. Maybe you don’t feel ready. Maybe you don’t feel like you have enough experience yet, or that you don’t know all that you need to know.

Well, let me tell you something from 25 years of experience as an ordained minister: if you wait until you feel ready, you’ll never do it. Few people in ministry ever feel ready for the task to which they’ve been called. Yet God calls us anyway. To figure things out as we go. To maybe make a few mistakes along the way, and to learn from those mistakes, and become the leaders God is calling us to be.

Jesus did give them some last-minute words of wisdom. He said: “Don’t take anything but a walking stick. You don’t need to worry about food, or money, or lodging…”

I like how the Message Bible translates these verses: “Don’t think you need a lot of extra equipment for this. You are the equipment.”

You are the equipment.

Sometimes, we do focus too much on the equipment. A ministry, we think, requires a building—a sanctuary—with a lighting system and a sound system and video projection; and an office with computers and copy machines. Don’t get me wrong; all of this is good, and helpful, in a lot of ways; but all we really need, that which is most important, that which is the only essential thing, is what’s in here, in our hearts, in our minds. 

YOU are all that is essential. And you have all that you need. For you ARE the equipment.

Many years ago, during a particularly stressful, anxious moment, I took a breath, and thought back to when it was in my life that I was least anxious, least stressed, and most at peace… 

And in that moment, a vision appeared in my mind, of a little tent cabin with a plywood floor and canvas roof, that was my home for several weeks each summer for several years in a row while I worked at boy scout camp.

And I was surprised that that was the image that appeared, the image that came to me, because it was a place where I didn’t have much.

In that little tent cabin there was a cot with a mattress on it. I had a sleeping bag and some clothes, all of which fit in a duffel bag that I could carry.

I had borrowed a milk crate from the camp kitchen, and I had used my boy scout skills to lash it to the side of the tent cabin with rope, so that I’d have a little shelf above my bed. (OK, I may have used bungee cords.)

And that was it. For the weeks I spent there, that was all I had. And it was among the most peaceful, least stressful times in my life.

That memory stays with me, because so often, I get stressed over thinking I don’t have enough. I don’t have enough equipment. I don’t have enough clothes, I don’t have enough appliances, I don’t have enough of all the things that fill my house…

But then the memory resurfaces, and reminds me: I don’t need a lot to be happy. I don’t need a lot of equipment. In fact, even though I think that the more I have, the happier I’ll be, the opposite is often true: that the more I have, the more stressed I become.

And it makes me realize that I’m living with a lie: the lie that says the more you have, the better off you are.

Corporate advertisers tell us this lie, and we hear it so often, we believe it. I need more things! I need more things to make me happy! I need more things to make life easier! I need more things in my kitchen, more things in my garage, more things in my closet!

That message just pervades our entire existence. Breathe in, and you can smell it. Stick your tongue out right now, and you can taste it. It’s in the air, it’s in the water, it’s all around.

You look at people on social media… (I used to say, “you look at people in the magazines,” but now, more often, it’s on social media), and you think, “Wow! Look at that person! They look so cool! So cute! So sexy! If I buy that outfit, then I’ll be the one looking so cool, so cute, so sexy!”

And maybe the first time we wear that new outfit, we’re like, “Wow!” But the pleasure it brings decreases quickly with subsequent wearings. The buzz wears off.

Maybe that’s why the apostle Paul talked about clothing ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and most of all, love, as we heard a few weeks ago, and as our campers heard at camp. That’s the type of clothing that never fades, never wears out, never shrinks or stretches. It’s always a perfect fit.

Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, and love.

You don’t need a lot of extra equipment. You don’t need that extra tunic. You don’t need a newer model appliance or the latest gadgets. These aren’t the types of things that are needed to make you happy in the long run, and these aren’t the types of things that are needed for you to do what God is calling you to do. 

And, right now, you don’t need knowledge you don’t have, or experience you haven’t yet acquired, or wisdom that hasn’t yet come to you. Those things will come, but you don’t need to wait for them to do what God is calling you to do in this moment.

All you really need is you. God has given you the wisdom and the unique gifts that you need right now in order to fulfill your purpose. You may not know everything, but you know enough. 

You are enough. You are the equipment.

Dia Dhuit! (Mark 6:30-34, 53-56)

1. Ancestors’ Voices

My name is Danny Bradfield. My pronouns are he/him/his. And I’m pastor of Bixby Knolls Christian Church.

Dia dhuit!

That is Irish (Gaelic) for “hello.” Literally, it means, “God be with you.”

Dia dhuit!

I had a dream the other night. This dream was no doubt inspired by some reading I’ve been doing lately, reading books about the indigenous people to this land, the Tongva/Gabrielino, and how most of those who survived the genocide committed against them were so completely assimilated into mainstream culture, that they lost their identity. 

According to these books, a number of Tongva descendants today no longer even identify as Tongva. They’ve lost the connection to their Tongva ancestors.

That was one inspiration for my dream - these books.

The other inspiration was - believe it or not - a children’s TV show I watched called City of Ghosts, in which a young boy hears voices on the wind - but he doesn’t understand what the voices are saying. This boy has Tongva ancestors, and the voices he hears are speaking in Tongva, but this boy doesn’t know the Tongva language, so he doesn’t understand what the voices are saying.

That was the other inspiration for my dream.

In my dream, I was trying to hear my own ancestors speak. But their voices have been silenced. They've been silenced by the many decades of forced assimilation in this country; the assimilation that said to every immigrant: don't be Irish. Don't be Asian. Don't be Mexican. 

And even to those whose ancestors were indigenous: don't be Indian. Don’t be Tongva, or Chumash, or Serrano. Don't speak your language. Don't raise your voice.

And the voices of our ancestors are lost.

And in my dream, even if I could hear their voices, in most cases I wouldn't understand what they were saying. Just like the boy in the TV show. Their language isn’t mine.

My Irish ancestors and my German ancestors and my Polish ancestors and my Norwegian ancestors and my Lakota ancestors were all told: assimilate. Assimilate, and don’t speak your native tongue.

And so, the connection I have with my ancestors has been lost. I couldn’t hear their voices; I couldn’t hear what they were saying to me. 

And when I woke up from that dream, I felt this sadness at not being able to hear or understand the voices.

Irish is the only ethnicity that is common to both my mother’s side of the family, and my father’s side. So this week, I learned how to say “hello” (or, “God be with you”) in Irish. 

Dia dhuit.

I don’t know what difference learning one phrase is going to make. But for a kid whose parents sang “Danny Boy” to him as a lullaby, it feels good.

2. Listening

Jesus said to his disciples, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”

Jesus spent a lot of time seeking out quiet, deserted places by himself, or taking his disciples to a quiet place, where they could be alone, away from the crowds, resting, and listening. 

Listening to the silence.

Listening to God.

Listening to the voices of their ancestors.

Both Matthew and Luke make a point of presenting long lists of Jesus’ ancestors. We usually skip over these lists - after all, they aren’t very exciting to read. 

But why did Matthew and Luke both include ancestor lists? Because remembering our ancestors is important; important for Jesus; important for us.

And throughout scripture, we are told the importance of rest. Of sabbath. 

So, maybe one of the reasons we are told to rest, to observe the sabbath, is so that we can listen not only to God, but to the voices of our ancestors…

3. Walking, Remembering

If we can’t hear or understand the words - if the language has been lost to us - maybe we can find other ways to connect… through art… through music...through walking with awareness in the same places they walked.

Last Monday, Tristan and I hiked to the top of Cucamonga Peak. The name Cucamonga is a Tongva name. Somehow, that name survived the genocide and forced assimilation. It was a reminder to me of our geographic ancestors, the people who were the first human inhabitants of this land. Knowing that I was hiking up Cucamonga Peak, in the Cucamonga Wilderness, helped me be more aware of the land’s original human inhabitants.

Loch Leven is the church camp that our congregation owns and operates, along with the one hundred other congregations of the Pacific Southwest Region with whom we are in covenant. When I direct camps up there, I often invite campers to take a moment and imagine who was walking that ground 10 years ago… 100 years ago… and more… earlier generations of campers… early American settlers, like John Skinner and his daughter, Cactus Kate… and the Yuhaviatam/Serrano people before that… 

I invite campers to take a moment, be silent, and imagine what those previous generations are saying to them. Can you hear them? Can you hear what they are saying?

Jesus spent a lot of time in silence. Jesus sought solitude, away from the crowds. And much of that time was spent in prayer. 

But I don’t think most of Jesus’ prayers were speaking prayers. I think most of them were listening prayers.

Listening to the ancestors. Listening to the prophets. Listening to the psalmists. Listening for the word of God spoken through human lives.

4. Ancient Words

There are other ways to listen to the voice of God being spoken through our ancestors. Anytime we take up an art or craft that was practiced by our ancestors, or learn how to cook a dish that our ancestors once cooked, or sing a song that was sung in generations past, or learn a dance that was danced in generations past - anytime we do any of these, we can hear our ancestors, and hear God speaking through our ancestors. 

What are those voices saying to us today? What guidance and what wisdom do they have to offer?

Sometimes, it helps if we can go to a quiet place, a holy place, a place that helps us connect with those ancestors.

Your journey doesn’t have to involve an all-day hike to the top of Cucamonga Peak. There are places much closer and easier to get to that can help you hear the voices of the Tongva. Rancho Los Cerritos and Rancho Los Alamitos were once the sites of two Tongva villages known as Tevaaxa’nga and Puvunga, respectively. 

And of course, we have this space. Our sanctuary helps us connect with the generations who have worshiped here over the past 75 years. 

And it is here where we hear, each week, words of scripture, written by people who lived two or three thousand years ago. They wrote in ancient Hebrew and Greek, and seminaries still teach these ancient languages today to help young pastors help their congregations connect with the voice of God that still speaks through them today.

But their voices can also be heard in English. Thank God! And we can hear their voices when we read scripture, at church, or at home. 

And we can hear God speaking to us through the stories and words of Abraham and Sarah, and Moses and Miriam, and Ruth and Naomi, and Esther and Mordecai, and prophets and psalmists, and Jesus.

We hear their voices, when we gather here for worship.

When we worship, a lot is new, and a lot has changed over the years, but some things we still hold on to. Mixed in with more modern praise songs are songs that have been sung for generations. 

And every week, we gather around the Lord’s Table. Our worship services have become quite informal over the years - ridiculously so, at times, I admit...

But when we gather at the table and we hear those words Jesus spoke to his disciples in the upper room 2,000 years ago, even we at Bixby Knolls Christian Church become solemn. 

Because we recognize when God is speaking to us through the voices of our ancestors. And when that ancestor is Jesus…we listen…

5. Find the Connection

I don’t know how you connect with the voices of your ancestors.

I don’t know how you connect with the voice of God. 

I don’t know where the quiet, deserted places are in your life, the places that help you connect, the places that help you remember, the places that help you hear the voices.

But I pray that, at least once in a while, you find that place, that sacred place, that quiet place - here, in this sanctuary, or somewhere else - where you can listen...where you can hear.

Sermon: "No Shipwreck - Just Smooth Sailing" (Mark 6: 7-13)

It’s been a few years since I told this story, and some of you weren’t around then, so allow me to start today by telling it once again…

About 20 years ago, I spent a week volunteering on a replica of James Cook’s sailing ship the Endeavour. It was sailing around the world, but for one week it was docked and open for tours, and I was a guide that helped show people around the ship.

I didn’t know anything about James Cook; but they gave me a book. I read it. And I learned a few things.

One of the things I learned is that James Cook was accompanied on his first voyage, in 1768, by a naturalist named Joseph Banks. Together, they made many discoveries and observations that added greatly to European society’s knowledge of the world.

Their voyage was a huge success, and the two men were hailed as heroes. They quickly began planning for a second voyage.

However, fame went to Joseph Banks’ head. He wanted to bring more than a boatload of scientific gear and personal items, so he insisted that an extra deck be added to the Endeavour in order to accommodate all the scientific and personal gear that he was determined to bring.

An entire extra deck!

I’m no ship expert, but even I can see that this might not be a good idea.

Sure enough, the extra deck made the ship top heavy and wobbly. Any sensible person would know that this was not going to work.  A wobbly ship will undoubtedly end up in a shipwreck! We’ll be talking more about shipwrecks during VBS this week.

But a shipwreck was not what James Cook wanted, obviously, so he ordered the extra deck removed.  This infuriated Joseph Banks, who just didn’t get it, and Banks refused to go on the voyage.

My friends, we are on a journey. In many ways, our journey takes us to uncharted regions, just like the voyages of James Cook. We are venturing forth into an unknown future.

We are in the midst of a New Beginnings program; our progress has slowed down a little for the summer, but will pick back up in the fall.

Also, we live in a time of great change. Every 500 years, the church experiences a great transformation; the last one was the reformation. Yet the change the church is experiencing in our own time is just as profound.

Change in the church is matched by change in society. One single invention - the world wide web - has transformed the way we communicate just as much as the invention of the printing press changed things 500 years ago.

All this makes our journey a great adventure - at times scary, at times exciting, and always an adventure.

Jesus sent the disciples out on their own adventure. He sent them out two-by-two, and told them to preach a message of repentance, a message of transformation, a message meant to invite people to change their hearts and change their minds and enter into a new way of living.

And in that message - and in the love and care shown to the people by the disciples - the people found healing.

What always catches my attention in this story are the instructions Jesus gave his disciples when he sent them out: “Take nothing for your journey, except a staff. Don’t take any bread. Don’t take a bag. Don’t take any money.”

He didn’t even want them to bring an extra shirt.

Jesus is telling them to not bring anything that would hold them back… not bring anything that could be an attachment to their former lives. To keep their course straight, to keep their ship from wobbling, they needed to bring only what was absolutely necessary.

Soon, I’m going to go on a backpacking trip in the Sierras, with some friends from Pomona Christian Church. It’s been a few years, but I’ve gone backpacking before, so I know what to pack… and what not to pack.

And in case I’ve forgotten, a passage in the book Wild by Cheryl Strayed helps me remember. With no experience, Cheryl decided to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. She gathered everything she thought she needed, and in a motel room near the start of the trail, loaded it all up into her backpack.

Then she went to put it on. Here’s how she describes that moment:

“I was ready to begin. I put on my watch, looped my sunglasses around my neck by their pink neoprene holder, donned my hat, and looked at my pack. It was at once enormous and compact, mildly adorable and intimidatingly self-contained. It had an animate quality; in its company, I didn’t feel entirely alone. Standing, it came up to my waist. I gripped it and bent to lift it.

“It wouldn’t budge.

“I squatted and grasped its frame more robustly and tried to lift it again. Again it did not move. Not even an inch. I tried to lift it with both hands, with my legs braced beneath me, while attempting to wrap it in a bear hug, with all of my breath and my might and my will, with everything in me. And still it would not come. It was exactly like attempting to lift a Volkswagen Beetle. It looked so cute, so ready to be lifted - and yet it was impossible to do….

“I scooted over the carpet and situated myself on my rump right in front of my pack, wove my arms through the shoulder straps, and clipped the sternum strap across my chest. I took a deep breath and began rocking back and forth to gain momentum, until finally I hurled myself forward with everything in me and got myself onto my hands and knees. My backpack was no longer on the floor. It was officially attached to me. It still seemed like a Volkswagen Beetle, only now it seemed like a Volkswagen Beetle that was parked on my back. I stayed there for a few moments, trying to get my balance. Slowly, I worked my feet beneath me while simultaneously scaling the metal cooling unit with my hands until I was vertical enough that I could do a dead lift. The frame of the pack squeaked as I rose, it too straining from the tremendous weight. By the time I was standing - which is to say, hunching in a remotely upright position - I was holding the vented metal panel that I’d accidentally ripped loose from the cooling unit in my efforts.”

This passage is a reminder to me to be very careful when I pack for my upcoming trip. It’s important to figure out what you really need, and leave everything else behind.

Of course, the lesson here applies to other aspects of life besides backpacking. Psychologists today warn against children having too many toys.

According to an article published last fall in the journal Infant Behavior and Development, a recent study from the University of Toledo in Ohio suggests “an abundance of toys present reduced quality of toddlers’ play.” Having fewer toys can lead a young child to focus and engage in more creative, imaginative play, according to the study. Fewer toys, it turns out, result in healthier play, and, ultimately, deeper cognitive development. They’ll play with one toy longer, which helps with attention spans. They’ll learn better how to take care of things. They’ll become more resourceful. And they’ll learn that happiness comes from places other than the toy store.

This study, and others like it, don’t say that children should have no toys. They do say that children should have a few carefully chosen toys, toys they can cherish, toys that will inspire them.

It seems to me that what’s true for children might also be true for adults.

Joseph Banks had too many toys that he refused to part with - and that kept him from going on the voyage.

A lot of adults today have too many toys - what is it that those toys are keeping them from doing? A Facebook friend of mine is preparing to move into a new house, and every day she shares a picture of some items with the question, “Keep, or get rid of?” What an important question that is, because it helps us discern what is really important.

Like people, churches, also, tend to have too many toys. Like the disciples, we are on a journey...but the temptation is for us to carry too much baggage with us. Especially churches that have been around for awhile. What should we keep, and what should we get rid of? What is essential, and what is excess baggage?

One church might find a suitcase that says “liberal ideology,” and they pick that up and carry it along. Another church might find a suitcase that says “conservative ideology,” and they pick that up. And another church might find both of those suitcases and pick them both up, trying to make everyone happy, and carrying them with them on their journey.

But God doesn’t want us to carry any liberal baggage on our journey. God doesn’t want us to carry any conservative baggage on our journey. God only wants us to carry the gospel of love. The gospel of Jesus Christ. The gospel of hope. The gospel that makes all people whole.

In all areas of our life, I think our tendency is always to overpack, to take along too many things on our journey. Jesus told his disciples to take only a staff. I think maybe I would have at least taken along an extra shirt and maybe some spending money, but Jesus said those weren’t necessary for that particular mission.

“Take only what you need.”

The question is: What do you really need?

"Everything You Need" Mark 6: 17-29

King David had won. With God’s help he had defeated his enemies and his nation was at peace.

So he went to his beautiful, opulent palace – a palace fit for a king – looked out across his kingdom, took a deep breath… and began thinking.

I imagine that in this moment of rest, he looked back on his accomplishments: Defeat the giant: check. Become king: check. Overcome all my enemies: check. Unite the kingdom: check.

Not bad.

And all because of the Lord’s help.

The Lord. The God of his ancestors. The God who remains without a proper home or temple. The God whose home is still a tent.

Wait! That’s not right!

After consulting with the prophet Nathan, David decided to build God a temple. But that night, in a dream or vision, the Lord’s word came to Nathan, and the Lord said: “You know – I’m good. I don’t need a temple. At least not yet. I’ve been living in a tent since I brought Israel out of Egypt many, many years ago. I’ve never asked for nor demanded a temple in all the years since. So tell David his son can build me a temple, but for now, I’m good.”

King David was obviously not the only king who lived in a palace. Many years later, King Herod lived in a palace. A mighty fine palace.

Herod’s palace was meant to show off his wealth and power, and to impress dignitaries and other guests who came to visit.

The palace banquet hall, in particular, was a mangnificent room, a luxurious triclinium, with painted walls and ceilings, trimmed in cedar and possibly gold. The tables were piled high with the richest of foods, the finest meat, the freshest fruit, and of course, the best wine.

Herod had also built God a fine temple in which to dwell. The temple Herod built was the grandest building structure on earth. And of course, everyone who saw the temple that Herod had built would know that Herod had built it, and would understand that it was more a reflection of Herod’s glory than God’s.

The Bible tells of a great banquet Herod hosted in his palace, a grand party with lots of guests. The occasion was Herod’s birthday. But before we talk any more about that, let’s talk about where God was…

God, of course, is everywhere. But we do speak metaphorically of God dwelling in certain places… like the ark of the covenant… or the temple. God’s presence was particularly strong in Jesus, who is often referred to as God’s son, or sometimes emmanual, a name that means “God with us.”

Emmanuel wasn’t invited into Herod’s banquet hall. Emmanuel also wasn’t in or at the temple.

Emmanuel was out wandering from village to village, eventually heading out to a deserted, secluded place in the wilderness. This is about as far as you can get from the palace or temple. No buildings, no banquet hall, no triclinium, no couches on which to recline, no tables piled with food.

And yet, out there in the middle of nowhere, Emmanuel – God – hosts a banquet.

Herod’s banquet in the palace banquet hall has everything you could ever want. Herod and his wealth could provide everything. If you ever win the lottery and wanted to host a banquet, you’d try to make it look like Herod’s banquet.

Jesus’s banquet in the wilderness: there’s nothing there. Not even food. The disciples come to Jesus and say, “send the people back home; send them back to the nearest villages to buy something to eat for themselves…”

Jesus and his disciples have nothing to give, especially not to such a large crowd.

Surely, if given a choice, anyone would choose Herod’s banquet over Jesus’s banquet.

Herod considered himself the provider of bread and life. The people depended on him for survival. Without Herod, they would surely perish. Life itself was Herod’s gift to his people.

Baruch atah, Herod our king; praise to you, Herod our king, who brings forth bread and provides it to his people.

During Herod’s banquet, his daughter performed an exotic, enchanting dance that delighted all the guests. Herod, showing off, said, “whatever you want, I’ll give you!”

She asked for John the Baptist’s head.

Even though he had put John the Baptist in prison, Herod respected John and didn’t want to kill him. But he couldn’t go back on the promise he made in front of all his guests. He gave the command, and her wish was granted. A guard went and cut off John’s head, and presented it at the banquet.

Eww.

All of a sudden, the the focus was no longer on Herod the provider of bread and life; the focus was now on Herod, who takes life away, and makes people feel sick to their stomachs.

Meanwhile, out in the desolate, barren wilderness, the disciples tell Jesus to send the people away so they can get something to eat; there is no sustenance for them here. Jesus says to his disciples: “You give them something to eat.”

The disciples are befuddled.

Jesus instructs the disciples to have the people sit in groups on the green grass as though they were having a banquet. There’s no palace, no triclinium, no banquet table, and no food, but the disciples trust Jesus enough to do what he says.

Then Jesus takes the only food they could find in that huge crowd – a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish – he lifts them up and says:

Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu; praise to you, the Lord our God, who brings forth bread from the earth…

And all of a sudden, somehow, there is food for everyone! The signs of life are everywhere! Green grass, baskets overflowing with food, fellowship and community, joy and happiness.

There is abundance: twelve baskets of food are filled with the leftovers.

And the message is clear: one doesn’t need a palace or a temple or power or wealth in order to have a life of abundance.

Everything you need, you already have. Everything you need, you already have.

I don’t think the disciples ever again muttered, “If only we could win the lottery, then we could dine like Herod!”

Then again, maybe they did. It wasn’t very long before this banquet in the wilderness that Jesus sent the disciples out to do ministry on their own. He sent them out two by two. What did he tell them to take with them?

Nothing.

Don’t take any food, don’t take a bag, don’t take any extra clothes, don’t take any money.

But Jesus, don’t we need any equipment?

No. You are the equipment. Everything you need, you already have.

And they went out…. And they were a success.

This is what happens in the gospel of Mark immediately before the story of Herod’s banquet.

Jesus sends the disciples out. Then we hear about Herod’s banquet in the palace. Then we hear about Jesus’s banquet in the wilderness. And then, two chapters later, there is another banquet in the wilderness, another miraculous feeding in which, again, the disciples are without food and wonder how they are going to feed all these people, and yet in the end, after everyone has eaten, there are baskets full of leftovers.

There are several reasons why there are two miraculous feeding stories in Mark’s gospel, which I don’t have time to get into today. But one thing is clear: everything you need, you already have.

At camp, as director, one of my important jobs is figuring out what we need for all our activities. We get what we can, and the camp has many supplies there.

But sometimes we forget something. And sometimes, counselors want a whole load of stuff for their family groups. And my message to them is: you don’t really need all that stuff. You think you do, but you don’t. And without it, you have the opportunity to teach your campers an important lesson, which is that everything you need, you already have.

You may not have what you need for a particular activity. But you do have what you need to have a great week at camp.

Last year, we had some campers who, once they arrived at camp, just couldn’t imagine a week away from all the comforts of home. All their “stuff” was like a security blanket for them, and being without it was creating quite a bit of anxiety for them.

Halfway through the week, we slept outdoors. We laid out tarps, threw some mattresses down on top of the tarps, and the kids brought their sleeping bags there for a night under the stars.

Those same kids were nervous about that. As if living in a cabin for a week wasn’t bad enough, now they had to spend the night without a roof over their head?

And yet, as we lay there, those same kids looked up at the stars and were amazed. They had never slept outside before, and perhaps had never before seen the stars shining the way they do at camp. And the only thing they could think to say was: “Man, think of all those kids back home who never get to see this…”

It was a night they would never forget, one of the best nights of their lives.

There was no roof over their heads. No bed to sleep on. No TV. No wifi for the phones they weren’t supposed to have anyway.

But everything they needed, they had.