Share with Each Other
There are a fair number of negative commentaries about the earliest church gatherings. They are disdainful of the Christian practice of caring for each other. The biggest rebuke is that it would be so easy for someone to cheat them--to join the church to take advantage of the shared wealth, rather than joining out of faith. 

In the early church, all of the wealth of the members was shared in common. We don't know exactly how that worked, but we know that it happened, not only from the witness of Acts (2:42-47), but because of the writings making fun of the practice. Sharing prayers, studying scripture, and eating in homes may have been the primary sharing. They gathered their resources, purchased what was needed for dinner,  cooked, and cleaned together.  Perhaps there was a more complicated plan.

What kind of plan would we need in our churches today to replicate this practice? We are likely to face times in the near future where food prices go up, unemployment goes up, and government benefits go down. We should fight that, and we'll talk about those strategies later, but in the immediate context, we will have people in our churches, our neighbors, the family of God, who will need material help to get by. And isn't that what we do best--care for one another?

The thing that helps households the most when facing financial difficulty is cash. Giving people money to spend as they choose is what gives the greatest support.  It feels counter-cultural just to say that out loud! How do we just give people money? 

We could encourage people to give or take from the offering plate as it is passed, although in my churches there is little there to take (most give by check or online.) We could hand out $50 bills to those who come to worship, encouraging those with plenty to give it away, and those with little to keep it. If you prefer a more organized structure, people with excess in their budgets can create a fund that is distributed (once a month?) among those who don't have enough. 

I can hear all of your worries as you read this, because I have them too. How will we make sure that only people who need money are receiving it? Like the first century Romans, I can't help but worry about cheaters. But also how will we make sure that those who need money will choose to take advantage of the program? Should we figure out a line for what constitutes need? What if someone uses the money for alcohol or for illegal drugs? Although many pantries and other give-away programs have strategies for the receivers to qualify for the goods, those are in most cases not actually required. We are allowed to give what we have to whoever we want to. Sara Miles corrects a volunteer in her book Take this Bread: they can't steal from us, because we are offering it for free. 

And remember that we are talking about caring for members. We'll get to how to create a wider circle in a later conversation. Here I am wondering about just taking care of people that we know. Can we find a way to provide for Marla who sits on the back left; or Harold who sings in the choir, or Juan who comes once a month with his grandson? 

We have small ways of doing this now. We have the pastor's discretionary fund, which I hate, where someone comes in private to beg as carefully as they can, and the pastor decides who is worthy, and of how much they are worthy for. Our positive intent is to maintain confidentiality and allow the possibility of deeper care, but the impact is that only people who have the nerve to ask, to plea, for help have access to that fund. How much risk would we be taking if there is no explanation required--members of the congregation who need money are handed money. Is that over the top wild?

We are incredibly concerned that it won't be fair. That someone who needs more won't get it or that someone will get more than they need. That someone will feel guilty for not giving, or embarrassed to receive. Perhaps, like the Romans, we are afraid that hundreds of poor people will join our church just to get their share of the wealth. Certainly that fear gives me pause. Don't we want more people to join, so they can help, and pledge, and hear the good news? (Wait, is that the right order?) We aren't really afraid too many poor people will join us, are we?

The good news in the first century was that Kingdom of God was really, right then, at hand. I find it hard to feel that way right now. But if we could create small communities where everyones  financial needs are cared for, wouldn't that be a miracle? Wouldn't that be good news? 

I was carrying a wooden tray with little cups of grape juice out into Worcester Common, past our little circle of worshipers toward the folk simply hanging out in the park. I'd lost the woman serving bread, so continued by myself. I came up to a woman on a bench.
"Do you want communion?"
"What?" The woman looked up from her book.
"Communion. Do you want the cup of forgiveness?"
She looked surprised. "I need that!"
I giggled. "Me too. Will you serve me?"
And we shared.

I love the images of Jesus eating, eating with tax collectors, eating with Pharisees, eating at weddings and eating with crowds. Jesus eats throughout his journey, on the night before he dies, and again beside the Emmaus road. In an incredible image of plenty—plenty of fish, plenty of bread, plenty of sharing food, drink, and God’s love, Jesus offers us a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.

After the creation of good food in the Garden of Eden God provides daily bread in the wilderness, Isaiah challenges us to eat rich food without cost, and Jesus turns water into wine at Cana. The Kingdom, God promises again and again, is full of good food, great drink, and more than enough to share.

Despite starting his ministry by creating the finest wine, the bread Jesus offers in the feeding of the 5000 is barley bread—not flavorful oats, not the treat of cinnamon raison, not even fine ground wheat bread, or a good sourdough, rather the cheapest of the breads, the most basic of foods.

With this lowly staple, however, he offers the crowd fish, an extravagance, food usually reserved for the Sabbath meal. For the Kingdom of God is not only about having enough to fill our stomachs, the Kingdom is enough food, the Kingdom is rich food, and the Kingdom is more food than we could need.

For there were leftovers that day, twelve baskets leftover, leftovers so significant they had to be gathered and measured. And that is the miracle that fills me with hope when my soul is dry, when my soul is starving, when my soul cannot survive another day. Those twelve baskets tell me again that Jesus will sit and eat with me, despite my selfishness, despite my lack of faith, despite my sinful and disobedient ways. Those twelve baskets of plenty insist that in God’s Kingdom there is more than enough for you, for neighbors, for strangers, for friends, for enemies, and yes even for unfaithful, doubting, and distrusting me. There is a ridiculously vast supply of leftovers.

​In God’s world view there is food to spare, drink to share, and yes, above all else, there is love enough to hand out freely, twelve baskets, in fact, left over. And THAT is Good news!