Table in the Wilderness (Mark 6:30-44)

 The wilderness is not a welcoming place. It is far from any city or town; far from civilization. There are few plants there, and the plants that do grow there are tough; some are covered in thorns or needles.

In the wilderness, there is little food for you to eat, though if you are unlucky, you may be eaten yourself.

In the wilderness there is little water to drink. One could easily die of thirst or hunger in the wilderness.

So it is significant that the feeding of the multitude took place in a deserted wilderness.

The season of Lent is a wilderness season.

Many of the scripture stories that are often read during Lent take place in the wilderness. 

Sometimes during Lent, we hear about Moses leading God’s people out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and into the wilderness, where they wandered for 40 years.

Often, during Lent, we hear the story of Jesus in the wilderness; he was in the wilderness, fasting, and facing temptation, for 40 days.

The 40 years of wandering in the wilderness, and Jesus’ 40 days of fasting in the wilderness, are why Lent is 40 days long. 40 days of fasting. 40 days of focusing on the things that bring us back to God, and back to ourselves.

Lent is a wilderness season.

If you are planning a trip to the wilderness, you take what you need, and nothing more. Anything extra will slow you down, wear you out. 

***** Many years ago, I had the opportunity to volunteer on board the Endeavour, a replica of the ship that James Cook sailed around the world in 1768. The ship didn’t go anywhere while I was on board; it was docked, and I helped give tours. But I learned a lot. 

I learned that James Cook invited a naturalist named Joseph Banks to join him. Together, they sailed across the sea, and sailing across the sea in 1768 was a lot like taking a journey into a wilderness. In some ways, even more so. 

They were certainly traveling far from civilization. They took just what they needed, and nothing more.

On their journey, 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. For this second voyage, he wanted to bring more than a boatload of scientific gear and personal items; so he added an extra deck to the Endeavour in order to accommodate all the stuff that he was determined to bring.

An entire extra deck!

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

The extra deck made the ship top heavy and wobbly. Any sensible person would know that this was not going to work.

Cook had that extra deck removed.  

Banks was so upset by this, that he refused to go on the voyage. If he couldn’t go with all his stuff, then he wasn’t going to go at all.

When you are traveling through the wilderness—or across the sea—you take only what you need. You don’t take more than you need. You don’t bring along extra stuff that’s going to slow you down… or threaten to capsize your vessel.

As we journey through the wilderness of this Lenten season, we are invited to consider the “extra stuff” in our lives, the stuff that keeps us from making progress on our spiritual journey, our journey with God. 

We are journeying through the wilderness, and we are to take only what we need. Everything else is a distraction and a danger to our voyage. 

Lent gives us the opportunity to do a little “spring cleaning” in our lives, to clear away the clutter, so that we can more effectively journey with Jesus.

***** So what is the significance of the fact that the feeding of the multitude took place in the wilderness? Well, the people were hungry. They were hungry for spiritual food. They were hungry for physical food. Yet they were in the wilderness, where no food was to be found.

The scripture says that the people were like sheep without a shepherd. They needed a shepherd, to show them where to find food; a shepherd who would lead them to green pastures.

A lot of people today are looking for those green pastures. We need someone to show us where that food is, that good, nourishing food, that will help us on our journey.

For this world is like a wilderness. There is so much all around us… so much everything. This world is a lot. You know what I’m saying?

And yet, despite this, many are lacking what they truly need. Food that is good. And real. And nourishing. 

Not the junk food that is all around us. But good, nourishing food that sustains the body; and good, nourishing food that sustains the soul. 

***** The prophet Isaiah said: “Eat what is good. Delight yourselves in rich food” (55:2). There is junk food all around, but let God lead you to the food that nourishes, the food that sustains.

It’s so hard to find good, nourishing food. Everything that is offered to us contains harmful ingredients. Refined carbs. Toxic oils. Harmful sweeteners. Carcinogenic nitrates… 

…And I’m not just talking about the food we put into our mouths. I’m talking about the spiritual food we consume, spiritual junk food that is sold to us by opportunistic influencers peddling their spiritual quackery. 

They are false shepherds. Wolves in disguise. Leading us to pastures that appear to be green, but that grass is fake.

The good food that Isaiah speaks of—the good food that nourishes and sustains—is hard to find.

When Jesus saw how the people longed for some good, real food, he had compassion on them. He told his disciples to give them something to eat. 

The disciples were confused. What is he talking about? They didn’t have any food!

Then Jesus told his disciples to have the people sit down on the green grass.

***** That, I think, is an often overlooked detail in this story.

Jesus had the people sit down on the green grass.

Green grass… in the middle of the deserted wilderness.

Matthew, Mark, and Luke all mention the green grass. A lush pasture, in the middle of the desert.

Where did this green grass come from? Green grass doesn’t grow in the desert! 

In the deserts and foothills of southern California, places where I’ve gone on many hikes, and where our southern California Disciples camp is located, we have yuccas and prickly pears, and trust me, you don’t want to sit down on those!

The desert wilderness Jesus experienced also has prickly pears. Yucca plants are not native to that part of the world, but other similar plants do grow there. 

Yet somehow, out there in that desert wilderness, there was a field of green grass. A lush pasture, if you will. 

And it is there that the people receive the food they need, from the one who leads them like a shepherd. 

Are you in the desert? 

Are you wandering, tired of chasing after false shepherds, and receiving food that does not nourish?

Are you weary from the long journey?

***** Well, Jesus has prepared a table for you, right where you are, right in the middle of the wilderness.

Jesus has prepared a table for all who are lost, all who are tired, all who are hungry. 

Jesus invites to this table people from the north and the south, the east and the west; people from every nation, speaking every language. 

Jesus invites the poor, the lonely, the forgotten and the left out. Jesus invites those who have more doubt than faith, and more questions than answers. Jesus invites those so burdened by the weight of the world that they walk bent over, and have forgotten what it is like to stand up straight.

We come to this table, and we feast together. No one has to dine alone. 

Our Lenten devotional talks about the importance of eating with one another… and how some people experienced more of that during the COVID pandemic, eating at home with their family members instead of eating on the run… and how, during the pandemic, some people experienced less of that, because they lived alone, and could no longer get together with friends or loved ones outside of the house to eat.

Ginger and I were quite fortunate, to have had some neighbors who became good friends. In the little patio between our two homes, we would often eat outside, they on one side of the table, us on the other. Our friendship grew even stronger during the pandemic. We didn’t go inside each other’s homes, but we did gather regularly for meals together on the patio.

When we had our Ash Wednesday worship last week, we gathered for soup at 5:30, and worship at 6:30. I’ve thought to myself: we really don’t need an hour for people to eat a bowl of soup. 

But we weren’t just feeding our bellies. We were feeding our souls. And the extra time was a blessing as we nurtured our friendships through conversation around the tables.

The meals we share in together—and especially, the meal where we remember Christ’s broken body and shed blood—are glimpses of life in the kingdom of heaven. 

No matter who you are, or where you come from, you are welcome here.

The gospels tell us of many of the meals Jesus ate. Some were in the wilderness. Some were in the homes of influential, powerful people. 

At some, he acted as host. At others, he was an invited guest.

But at every single one of those meals, there was love and there was compassion.

And when someone showed up who wasn’t supposed to be there, who didn’t have an invitation, or who didn’t have anything with which they could repay the hospitality offered to them…

Jesus let them know that they were welcome just as they were. They didn’t need an invitation, for all are welcome. They didn’t need money to pay for the meal, because what Jesus offers, he gives freely. 

As long as they were hungry, there was food for them. As long as they were hungry, they were allowed to receive their fill of the food that nurtures and sustains… the real, rich, good food… of Jesus.

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.