Our daily bread

 Luke 11:2-4

Give us this day our daily bread.

            That simple sentence—the center of the Lord’s Prayer—is both deep and shallow, like water, like breath—the most straightforward and yet deeply important of things. Firstly, bread is food, obviously. We need food to survive, and too many in this world do not have it. Through the years, we have taken many groups from Grace-Red River to volunteer through Feed My Starving Children or a similar organization, and every time we go they have us watch a similar video, which typically shows women in Haiti (or somewhere similarly impoverished) making patties of clay to give their children something to eat when there is no food.

            Across the world, it is estimated that 820 million people go to bed hungry each day—a number unfathomably high in the 21^st century. This is a problem not of scarcity but of distribution and willpower. The human race hasn’t cared enough to make sure everyone is fed. So, when we pray “Give us this day our daily bread,” it is a reminder both that the only sure source of nourishment is God, and also that we-human beings have not done our duty in feeding the world. If you’re hungry, it is all but impossible to hear a word of promise for anything deeper. First you need actual bread, then you will understand your need of something deeper.

            Naturally, daily bread is also not only bread. Daily bread consists of other kinds of nourishment. We need a safe home; a safe job; a chance to flourish; health care; and we all need love. Our daily bread is varied and complex, and each of us has different needs—but needs they are. As people of God, we strive for a better world where these needs are all met. Still, we understand who it is that provides for them, so when we pray, we remind ourselves of our littleness and how everything we have is ours as a gift, surely nothing we have earned.

            Once those basic needs are met, then we can go a level deeper, and understand the primary meaning of daily bread. Jesus himself proclaims that he is the “bread of life.” God’s presence comes to us daily—certainly in the bread of communion—but also in all of our varied nourishment. Once we are fed by bread; once we are safe from persecution; once we are surrounded by love; then we are in a place to receive the bread that will never run out—Christ’s body broken for us—a reminder of the loaves and fish that Jesus once multiplied for a crowd of enormous size.

            This bread requires neither good weather nor good farming.

When we pray 'thy kingdom come'

 Luke 11:2-4

            When we pray “Thy kingdom come,” it may well be one of a hundred religious things we say that we don’t really mean. After all, we have so much life to live here, so much to see and do; not to mention the lives of others we care about—our children and grandchildren. Kate and I have talked a lot about life and our future in the past few months and not once have we said, “You know, now would be a good time for God’s kingdom to come.” And, yet, that’s what we pray every time we say the Lord’s Prayer. Thy Kingdom Come—Thy will be done.

            For most of us, we live our lives in these distinct spheres: The religious sphere where we say “Thy Kingdom Come” and the sphere of the rest of our lives where we try to imagine the best life now. I believe that too often we misunderstand the right place of these spheres in our lives. We treat the religious sphere like the glue that will hold us together when things get hard. I get why we do that. Life here is good. Friends and family are good. We hope for a good life filled with few moments of sadness. Things like Covid-19 might challenge us to see how good things are, but underneath it all, our preoccupation with this pandemic is about the fact that we have a sense of what life should be like for us, and what should not be.

            However, the metaphor is wrong. Our lives are not held together by the glue of God’s kingdom. Rather, God’s kingdom shatters the life that we know. It upends the tyrants; it lowers the powerful; it makes the rich poor and the poor rich. Yet, we live on in a world where the opposite is true—where billionaires add billions while the poor struggle to survive in a damaged economy. Martin Luther famously called this the Two Kingdoms. A Christian must live in both the kingdoms of this world and the kingdom of God, and as such, we are always torn in two directions at once. Love God; love people. It’s simple but infinitely challenging.

Not what we have but how totally we give it away

 2 Corinthians 8:1-15

One of the things I have long believed is that comparison is the root of sin. Whether it is me looking at other people and wishing to have something they have, or the imagined expectations we levy on ourselves, nothing turns us so in on ourselves (and at the same time away from God) as the act of comparing.

            This takes many forms. You might have less and see somebody with more, leading you to covet what they have. You might even resent them for having it. You start to make comparisons: Surely, you work as hard as them; surely, you deserve what they have. Soon, you feel justified in feeling everything from jealousy to contempt to rage. It is comparison that allows us to feel like we are within our rights to feel this way.

            It also works the other way: You have more and see people with less. You begin to compare and judge them. They must be poor because… they’re lazy… they’re entitled… they’re not as smart as me. Surely, you deserve what you have. You become prideful, resentful, or just plain greedy. This is true of wealth but also of the way we make friends, and how we see our own physical appearance, and our relationships, and our jobs, and you name it. We compare ourselves more than even realize.

            The actual act of comparing is not bad in itself. I’m short, he’s tall; I’m white, he’s black. These are simple observations. The question is both about our prejudices and society’s preferences, which is to say that certain characteristics have been engrained positively or negatively into the fabric of society. This can be useful when society values character traits like kindness and humility, but it is downright dangerous when society also values characteristics that are simply part of a person’s identity.

            It’s a question of equality. In 2 Corinthians, we learn that God values this equal footing and that those who have much are expected to give much. This shouldn’t really be a surprise, since Jesus lifted up this concept of equality throughout his time on earth, and more often that not, Jesus did this by talking about wealth. In fact, throughout the Gospels, Jesus talked about few things more than wealth and money.

One of the most straightforward examples of this takes place when Jesus is watching people give donations at the temple. Out of the crowd, there appears an extremely poor woman with a couple of pennies to place in the till. This doesn’t pass without notice, even though others are giving much more. It is she who Jesus lifts up as the example of generous giving, because she gives not out of her riches but out of her poverty. Jesus flips the script and considers the poorest woman to be the richest, because she is not captive to her wealth to limit her benevolence. She is the only one capable of giving it all away.

            This is the kind of upheaval that Jesus preaches all the time. Even before he was born, there was Mary singing her Magnificat, proclaiming that not only has God put down the mighty from their thrones and uplifted the lowly, but also God has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty! (Luke 1:52-53) It’s not that God hates wealth; it’s that wealth is not what we think it is.

So, in another place, when the rich man comes to Jesus and asks what he must do to inherit eternal life, Jesus tells him, “Go, sell all your possession!” The possessions have gotten in the way of his faith—they have become his god, since he has trusted in them to give his life meaning. He has made the comparison and determined the best life is one full of things—a calculation that many of us make—and, yet, he finds himself unfulfilled.

            It is so established that more money is good for us that most of us never even step back and consider whether this is true. For all the things that we are able to buy, there comes a point where we know that no things can satisfy. Faced with this reality, those who have wealth often turn toward using their wealth for power. They compare themselves with the rest of the world, treating life like a game to be won, and so they transition from looking for security to looking for power. But all of it starts with comparison.

            This mentality is also why there is so much shame around perceived failures to make money. Folks who see themselves as rich but who fall on hard times (often with little fault of their own) tend to struggle with their identity thereafter. The moment we see ourselves as deserving wealth is the moment we are lost. If we define ourselves by the comparisons we make and the expectations we set, we can only disappoint. God wants for us something better. God wants us defined not by how much we have but by how fully we give it away. And that is something more available to the poor than the rich, to the humble than the proud. Like the poor woman who throws in her two pennies, the real question is how fully are we giving?

            This is about money, for sure; but it’s also about time and energy and commitment. How much are we giving ourselves for the sake of our family, our friends, our church, and our community? What are we doing with ourselves?

            It’s not about what we have but about what we are doing with it. This is the key to ending the comparisons, because when you give freely, you aren’t concerned with what others are doing. The other side of this—the thing that’s surprising to many folks—is that when they give, people actually end up discovering some meaning in the gifts. We were created not to compare our worth based on how much we have but to find fulfillment in freely giving it away. This is what we call joy. Joy is not happiness; it’s not receiving—it is giving! We were created for joy! So, at Jesus’ birth, we sing “Joy to the World,” because God sent his Son into the world as a gift.

            That’s what all this is. Everything is a gift, and comparison robs us of that awareness that we are children of grace, whose only credits to enter heaven come from a Savior who died for us. So, let the comparisons go! Instead, rest in the mercy of God who frees us to give freely in turn—to be the poor woman, to strive for true equality, and to spread the good news that we are saved not because of the comparisons we make but because of the God who chooses us nonetheless.

We don't punch down; we lift up

2 Corinthians 5:11-21

This passage from 2 Corinthians is talking about what you may call a “paradigm shift.” In life, this typically happens to us a couple of times. We are living life one way with a certain perspective. Then, whether because we discover a different perspective, or we realize our perspective is limited, or we learn new information, or something else happens and our perspective changes. With it, the entire way we view the world may change.

            I’ll give you an example. When I was in high school, I didn’t know there were any different kinds of Lutherans at all. Like many young people, I assumed the world was basically full of people just like me.  I was vaguely aware that our church was part of the Minneapolis Synod of the ELCA, but I assumed that that was simply a geographic designation and that Lutherans were Lutherans. So, I was in high school when I learned that some Lutheran churches did not ordain women. This shocked me, because I had grown up with the assumption that women could and would and often should be pastors. So, I learned a new perspective on the world, but that wasn’t a paradigm shift because I simply disagreed with those “other” Lutherans—even if I didn’t have the perspective yet to understand why.