Sermon: “I’m Hungry, God!” 1 Kings 19:2-8 /John 6:26-27, 33-35, 41-51 (August 8, 2021)

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Human beings have a pretty tentative grasp on knowing exactly what it is what we need. All too often, we assume we need one thing when we actually need something else entirely. How many times have you ever thought to yourself, “I’m hungry; I need a snack,” only to open up the (fully-stocked) fridge or pantry and decide that there’s “nothing to eat”? It turns out you weren’t hungry after all; maybe you were thirsty instead, or just bored. Some things are universal, and this is one of them: one of my favorite passages of scripture is in Numbers, where the people complain to Moses, “There’s no food or water [here in the desert], and also we detest this miserable bread!” Some things never change.

Sermon: “Recipe for Repentance: Abundance”, John 20:1-18 (April 4, 2021--Easter Sunday)

(This is the final sermon in our Lenten series, "Recipe for Repentance".
Previous sermons can be found here, here, here, here, here, and here

and the Ash Wednesday message can be found here.)

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He is risen! He is risen indeed!

Speaking of rising, let’s talk about bread (you can remind me to add “master of segues” to my resume later).

Throughout Lent, we’ve been talking about the specific ingredients that go into a recipe, and I’ve been particularly thinking about the ingredients of bread: yeast, flour, sugar, salt, water. It strikes me that none of these raw ingredients, on their own, are particularly appetizing. I mean, hot water isn’t very refreshing without tea or cocoa in it, and even sugar is pretty boring without any other flavoring, and I don’t know anyone who snacks on handfuls of flour, yeast, or salt. But when you combine them with intentionality, care, and patience, you suddenly find that you have before you a homemade loaf of bread. Fresh, warm, appetizing. Capable of nourishing a body, of satiating hunger, and of bringing gastronomical delight. This transformation, from unpalatable ingredients to delicious delicacy, is, frankly, unexpected, if not downright miraculous.

Sermon: “Sensing the Sacred: Taste the Divine”, Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7/Matthew 4:1-11 (March 1, 2020)

(This is the second sermon in our Lenten series, "Sensing the Sacred". 

The first sermon can be found here.)

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Food is DANGEROUS. Or at least, we tend to think of food as dangerous. How many of you have ever described yourself as “bad” for taking a second helping at dinner? How many of you have ever described dessert as “a temptation”? If you’re giving something up for Lent, how many of you have chosen to forgo some sort of food item? Our relationship with food isn’t all lighthearted self-deprivation, either: over 30 million Americans struggle with disordered eating;[1] for these people, any event involving food is a minefield of emotional, physical, and psychological danger. What’s more, about 32 million Americans have allergies to food, with 200,000 people being hospitalized for them in the U.S. every year.[2] For these people, the prospect of eating food at any given time can literally be a matter of life and death. Suffice it to say, even though food is the necessary fuel to sustain human life, many of us have a complicated relationship with it, for all sorts of reasons.