Choosing Between Bread and
Stones
by the Rev. Dennis Jones
Service at UUCSS on August 10,
2003
Prayer
O God, may we continually celebrate all that we are able to give to
our children.
May we be patient as they learn to express gratitude for what they receive,
as well as disappointment and anger for what they asked for, but were
denied.
May we be sympathetic for all who cannot provide what their children
need.
And may we listen carefully to what our children request, that we do
not give them bread when they ask for stones.
Amen.
Joshua 4:1-7
When all the nation had finished passing over the Jordan River, the
Lord said to Joshua, “Take twelve men from the people, from each
tribe one man, and command them to take twelve stones from out of the
midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests stood, and
carry them and lay them down in the place where you will sleep tonight.”
So Joshua called the twelve men from the people of Israel, one man from
each tribe, and said to them, “Go out into the midst of the Jordan
and each of you take a stone upon your shoulder, that this may be a sign
among you when your children ask you in the future, ‘What do these
stones mean to you?’
“Then you will tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut
off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord when it passed over the
Jordan.
“So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial
forever.”
Matthew 5:1-2; 7:7-11
Seeing the crowds, Jesus went up on the mountain, and when he sat down
his disciples came to him. And he opened his mouth and taught them.
“Ask, and it will be given you; seek, and you will find; knock,
and it will be opened to you.
“For every one who asks receives, and he who seeks finds, and
to him who knocks it will be opened.
“What man of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him
a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent?
“If you then know how to give good gifts to your children, how
much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those
who ask him!
Sermon
Choosing Between Bread and Stones
I begin this morning with a story about a little country store in western
North Carolina. The store was well-known in those hills because of its
owner and his Bible-based business practices.
Whenever a customer purchased something in this store, as the owner
rang up the sale and put the item into a bag, he would quote an appropriate
verse from scripture.
For example, a young man came into the store to buy his new wife a special
gift. As the store owner closed the sale, he was heard to say, “It
is more blessed to give than to receive.” When two small children
came in to buy an anniversary present for their parents, the store owner
handed them their package as he said, “Honor thy father and thy
mother, that thy days may be long upon the land…”
His ability to pull from memory a verse from scripture appropriate to
every sale had made him a source of pride for the community. He was a
living legend throughout the Great Smoky Mountains.
One day a man from the big city arrived at the store in his expensive
sports car. Rushing into the store, he told the owner he was looking
for a wool blanket for his mountain cabin. Glancing around the store,
he said in a condescending tone, “I don’t suppose a place
like this will have the high quality I’m looking for, but I’ll
give it a shot.”
The owner said to him, “I keep my very nice blankets in the back
room; I’ll bring one out for you to examine.”
A moment later the owner reappeared and held out a multi-colored blanket
for the man to see. “I have this one for $45,” he said.
“No, no, no,” the man said, “this is not even close to
what I want. I was afraid this would happen. Don’t you have anything
else?”
“Let me check,” the owner said, and returned to the back
room. He took the very same blanket, unfolded it and then re-folded it,
fluffed it up a bit, and put on a new price tag which read $110. He presented
it to the man for his consideration.
“Well, this is better,” the man said as he examined
the same blanket all over again. “But, it’s still not good
enough for my cabin. Can you do any better than this?”
Returning to the back room, the owner took the same blanket, wrapped
it some pastel-colored tissue paper, placed it inside a lovely gift box,
added a price tag of $230, and held it out for the man.
“This is perfect!” the man said. “I’ll take
it!”
As the man happily placed his new blanket into the trunk of his car,
the owner quietly closed the cash register drawer, and was heard to say, “He
was a stranger, and I took him in.”
Today I feel somewhat that store owner. I have taken parts of two stories
which are familiar to us, and combined them. My objective is not to lead
you to think you are getting something new (or, as the store owner said,
to “take you in”). My goal is to pull from the familiar that
which may shed new light on old under-standings. It is not to search
for a new landscape, but to scan a familiar landscape with new eyes.
The two readings from Joshua and Matthew contain 293 words. From those
I have chosen two upon which to build my message. The two words are stones and bread.
Both words enjoy a rich biblical heritage.
Archaeologists have determined that certain kinds of stones in Palestine
were general utility instruments: knives, flints to strike fire, weights
for scales, plumb lines for building.
Certain very large stones served as landmarks and as pavements
and columns. They were used as dikes to surround vineyards, and to close
the mouths of wells. Stones were used to make ornaments, and as monuments
to commemorate historical events. Frequently, they served as altars and
as statues.
The symbolic language of the New Testament reflected the hardness and
strength of stones, referring to them in object lessons as “sterile,” “dumb,” or “inedible.” And
here we place the stones inside the first blanket, the $45 blanket.
The question that is raised in the reading from Matthew is, “What
parent of you, if your son or daughter asks for bread, will respond with
a stone?” The emphasis is on asking and receiving between
a child and a parent. So, what is a good word for something that is the opposite of
life-giving, nourishing, savory bread? How about a stone? What parent
among you, when your hungry son or daughter turns to you, will respond
with a sterile, dumb, inedible stone?
The second key word, from Matthew’s story,
is bread. And this word calls
to mind other stories using the imagery of bread.
“Give us this day, our daily bread…”
“I am the bread of life…”
“Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after
many days.”
Now, let us wrap this word in the $110 blanket for a moment
as we return to the Hebrew Testament.
“When the whole nation had finished crossing the Jordan,” the
Book of Joshua says, “the Lord said to Joshua, ‘Take twelve
men from the people… and order them to lift up’ what? That’s
right: 12 sterile, dumb, inedible stones ‘out of the middle of
the Jordan.’”
The story explains that these 12 stones will stand as a memorial among
the people, a monument… so that in days to come, when the children
of the tribe ask what these stones mean, the adults will tell them about
Israel’s adventures on the way to the promised land. Sitting down
around the stones, the people will say, “Once upon a time…”
Now, let us enfold in our $230-dollar blanket these two images: a loaf
of bread, and a pile of stones.
“What parent of you, if your child asks for bread, will give her
a stone?”
Part of the discomfort of living in one big global community, is being
aware of parents who will not fulfill their sacred obligation to feed,
clothe and house their children… and parents who simply do not
have the intellectual, political or fiscal means to feed their children,
treat their illnesses, provide for their education, and teach them about
family. Unfortunately, there are far too many parents in both categories.
And because of many factors including luck, good fortune, and undeserved
advantages, many of us secretly pray like the Pharisee in the temple: “O
Lord, I thank Thee that I am not like other parents who fail to fulfill
their basic parental responsibilities.”
Jesus said, “Humankind does not live by bread alone.” Still,
isn’t there a time when the way to a child’s heart and soul
necessarily passes through his stomach?
Let’s return to the $45 blanket and take out the stones once more…
Joshua gives his men instructions. And immediately the men question
the wisdom of going back into a river bed they just successfully
crossed, and with significant difficulty, thank you very much. And why
are they going back? Well, not to rescue anyone, or to retrieve valuable
personal property lost in the crossing… but to pluck out of the
mud a dozen sterile, dumb, inedible stones! Throughout what seemed like
an endless journey, they had been asking Joshua, “Are we there
yet?” And now they’re going back to do it again!
Anticipating a minor uprising, Joshua says to the people, “When
your children ask you, in days to come, why this day is important
in their lives, you will be able to tell them, because these
stones will be here to serve as a reminder.” The children will
note that the stones seem to hold some important value for the older
generation. Thus, they will ask, “What do these stones mean to
you?”
We are accustomed to our children asking us for bread. Bread is their
first need, and providing it is our first responsibility. A hungry stomach
cannot hear; thus, feeding a child often opens the first line of communication
before they will listen to us, learn from us, reason with us. When children
ask us for bread, their request is based on dependence and on trust that
we will provide it. Yet, we have become so accustomed to being asked
for bread, that often we do not know how to respond when our children
ask for stones—when they ask what the monuments and foundations
of our lives mean to us.
When my daughters were small girls, and they asked for a bigger allowance,
they wanted bread! They did not want to hear my all-too-familiar lecture
on family economics. They did not want to hear about the diminishing
value of a dollar. And they certainly did not want to hear about
how little money I had when I was their age, when I
walked to school through the snow with Abraham Lincoln… No, when
they came with outstretched little hands, they wanted bread!
Yet, as the wise Joshua knew, children sometimes surprise us and ask
about stones. And their request—just as it was for bread—is also based
on dependence and on trust that we will provide. They want to know what
these stones mean, of ties to the past, ties created and sometimes severed,
but not forgotten—still remembered because there are those willing
to tell their children when they ask.
My father—a Welsh Calvinist Presbyterian minister—died in
his late ‘50’s, leaving a lovely wife and four frightened
boys to move on without him. Many years after his death, his four young men sat
together on a suburban Chicago backyard deck. Sharing a bottle of rather
mediocre wine, we brought to life some wonderful old memories of my dad.
The youngest of us, Tim, was a little boy when my dad died. He recalled
the sea of people who suddenly appeared in our home following my dad’s
funeral. Tim is, by profession, a hard-nosed editor for The Chicago
Tribune. Because of the wine, he spoke more softly than usual, and
said, “I remember going from room to room after the funeral, looking
up and saying to anyone who would listen to me, ‘What are we going
to do? How are we going to get along without him?’ And everyone
would pat me on the head, and say, ‘Oh, poor dear,’ and give
me another stupid chocolate-chip cookie.”
When my daughters have asked me about monuments from my past, they didn’t
want to hear just a summary of our family history. They were hungry to
know how their lives, their journey with me and their
family thus far, figured in the building of those monuments. They wanted
stones!
“What do these stones mean?” the children ask. And if we
have taken the time along the way to build and rebuild and care for the
monuments, to sustain the symbols—if we have kept alive our relationship
to God and those we love… if we really listen to what
our children are asking for… then we can give them what they want.
Notice that when God called Joshua and his men to gather the stones
to build the monument, this was not to be a monument for them, but
for their children, and for their children’s children… all
the way down to our children, who still ask for some timeless
evidence of God in our lives.
The stories that were told to us, and the ones we tell our children
when they ask, often leave us at the mercy of the plot. For not all the
endings are happy endings, because some of our favorite characters are
missing. Some of the monuments we build take the shape of gravestones.
Some of the monuments we build tell stories of both joy and sorrow,
successes and mistakes.
Some of the monuments we build mark the exact spot where something meaningful
occurred. Some of the monuments we build reflect important events that
took place far away. And William Stafford, former Poet Laureate of Oregon,
speaks of a monument that was erected for something that never happened:
This is the field where the battle did
not happen
[he writes],
where the unknown soldier did not die.
This is the field where grass joined hands,
where no monument stands,
and the only heroic thing is the sky.
Birds fly here without any sound,
unfolding their wings across the open.
No people killed—or were killed—on
this ground
hallowed by neglect and an air so tame
that people celebrate it by forgetting its
name.
Yet, all these stones are part of the foundation of our lives;
and to present to our children images of our past without laying the
proper foundation, is to give them an incomplete answer when they ask.
Although I spent significant amounts of time with my girls when they
were growing up, I was also away from home a great deal, particularly
in their early years. Too many times I heard about their first steps
or first words or first complete sentences after they had gone
to bed, after I had returned home from a church meeting, or
from visiting a hospitalized or grieving church member. I could be very
eloquent in the pulpit, defining and promoting family values, very pastoral
throughout the week. Yet, by not always practicing what I preached, I
failed miserably in my resolve to lead a balanced life. By not being
available to my girls, not only did I deter them from considering careers
in the church; I also, at least until now, undermined their involvement
in the church. I led a very ethical life to provide bread for my girls,
but a very unethical life in providing stones for my girls.
And the monument reflecting that choice is right there for all of us
to see.
But the truth of all these stories is that, in spite of everything,
God continues to tell his eternal story in this way, through us, whose
lives involve choosing between bread and stones.
So, the question in Matthew is absolutely proper. Who of us, when our
children come to us asking for bread, for piano lessons, for more education,
for resources to meet a whole shopping list of social and psychological
needs… who of us will give them stones instead?
But—after playing with Joshua’s children for a while down
by the banks of the Jordan—if our children come to us
asking for stones… what then?
Benediction
And this is what we shall do:
- love the earth and the sun and the animals,
- despise riches that allow poverty to exist,
- give to everyone who asks both bread and stones,
- stand up for the diverse and the unconventional,
- devote our income and labors to others outside
our family,
- hate tyrants, whether in the form of people,
time or profession,
- don’t argue about things concerning God,
- direct our feet and our mind to holy places
and thoughts on the Sabbath,
- have patience and indulgence toward people,
- read poems and sing songs in the open air every
season of our life,
- re-examine all we have been told at church
or school or in any book,
- dismiss whatever insults our soul,
and our very flesh shall be a great poem,
and have the richest fluency not only in words,
but in the silent lines of our lips and face,
and between the lashes of our eyes,
and in every motion and joint of our body.
Let us not waste another minute!
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