Three Loaves At Midnight
Sermon
Preaching Eyes for Listening Ears
Sermons and Commentary For Preachers and Students of Preaching
This sermon was prepared for and preached at a chapel service at Columbia Seminary at which the Lord's Supper was celebrated. The bread was three loaves in a basket on the Table. These loaves were broken at the time of the distribution of the elements. The Moores referred to lived next door to me at the time. Mrs. Moore was manager of the seminary dining hall.
The sermon is essentially a retelling of the biblical passage with the use of some imagination. The conclusion applies the eucharistic motifs of the parable to the Lord's Supper and to the practice of ministry. The sermon departs from the usual interpretation which has the man making the request knocking loudly on the door and the man inside answering reluctantly. This interpretation owes a great deal to Kenneth E. Bailey's exegesis of the Parable in Poet and Peasant Through Peasant Eyes, pp. 119--141.
What a complicated network of relationships clusters around those three loaves at midnight.
There is the weary traveler after we know not how long a journey seeking hospitality at his friend's house. It is late, but he knows full well that he will be received because in that culture hospitality is mandatory, and the one whose house he seeks is his friend.
But his arrival must be unexpected, for his friend is not prepared for guests. Oh, the friend does not hesitate to receive the guest, but what will he set before him to let him know that he is truly welcomed? There are no fresh baked loaves in the house, for this household's baking day is yet a day away. There are broken fragments left over from the family meal eaten just after sunset. But these will not do for a guest. What to do when the host wishes to spread a bountiful table but has only ordinary fare, and not enough of that?
Midnight it may be, but the friend who is the host knows where there is bread enough and to spare - the house two doors down the street. Today he saw the woman of the house coming from the village ovens, her basket brimming with fresh baked bread. He can still smell the warm aroma of the yeasty loaves.
There he will go and ask. He will not ask for everything. He will ask for only three loaves, more than enough for his guest, enough to symbolize welcome, but little enough so that his neighbor can easily spare it.
The host invites his traveling friend to make himself comfortable and then slips out into the darkened street to the house two doors down. He puts his lips close to the chink in the door and calls out in a voice loud enough to be heard within, but not raucous enough to arouse the neighbors, for, after all, it is midnight.
"Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey and I have nothing to set before him."
The householder inside stirs in his bed. "Friend, lend me three loaves ..." echoes in his ear. Is he dreaming or is someone outside asking for three loaves? He sits up in bed. The voice sounds familiar.
"Eleazar, is that you?" he asks in a stage whisper.
"Yes, Ezekiel, it is I. Please, lend me three loaves for a friend of mine...."
"I heard you the first time. Keep your voice down. You will wake the children, and what is worse, you will wake my wife."
Ezekiel sits there in the night and thinks of all the excuses he could give.
"It's midnight, man, and the door is shut. It is too much trouble to get up and open it. We just got these kids settled down, and one of them is already beginning to whimper a little. Go somewhere else to borrow bread."
But Ezekiel knows that he could never give these excuses. He might if the three loaves at midnight were a matter only between himself and Eleazar. But what would the traveler think if he came to this village and his host had a difficult time giving him a decent meal? What kind of neighbors would he think Eleazar had if he could not borrow as little as three loaves? And what would the whole town say the next day when they found out that a friend had asked for bread to set before a guest and had been refused?
In those three loaves at midnight Ezekiel's whole sense of honor and integrity is at stake. Midnight or not, shut door or not, sleeping kids or not, he must be true to himself and to his community. So he gets up quickly, gathers not only the three loaves but whatever else is needed for a welcoming meal. He puts it all in a big basket, takes it to the door, opens the door, and gives it to Eleazar.
Eleazar hurries back to his own home and his weary, traveling friend. He spreads a white linen cloth on the table. From the basket he takes out all the things Ezekiel has given him. He lays before his friend a feast, with the three loaves in the center of the table.
The three loaves at midnight have done their work.
The traveler is properly welcomed. He eats, is satisfied, is strengthened for his further journey, and his weariness is relieved.
The host has extended proper hospitality. He has become host indeed. Although his own resources had not been enough, he did not hesitate to seek the place of bread, to ask for three loaves, and to trust that he would receive them in the middle of the night.
The householder who had the bread can shut his door again, lie down surrounded by his sleeping children, and know that he has been true to himself and has not betrayed the honor of his village.
There are three loaves on the Table before us. Where did they come from? If we want to be literal about it, they came from Sedera Moore in the dining hall. Let me assure you that I did not obtain them by going next door to the Moores' house at midnight and calling out, "Friend, lend me three loaves." However, there have been times enough when I have disturbed the Moores' midnight rest in some crisis situation and have never been refused.
But if we put these loaves in the context of the words of Jesus and the atmosphere of the Lord's Supper, they come from God. For the parable is preceded by Jesus' teaching his disciples to pray, "Father ... give us this day our daily bread." Thus does Jesus recognize God as the one who supplies our needs, the basic, daily, on--going needs symbolized by bread. By giving us the prayer he encourages us to ask for bread and to expect to receive it.
The parable is followed by a series of sayings in which Jesus assures us that God is far more abundantly generous than any earthly friend or parent. He gives far more than bread. He gives himself.
But what has the parable to suggest about the three loaves on the Table? Perhaps it has a special word to say to those of us who as ministers seek to play the role of host.
How often the weary traveler comes - some crisis situation, unexpected, unprepared for, at some inconvenient hour. We wish to welcome and receive the traveler; we want to handle the situation in the most appropriate, best way possible. But of ourselves we have nothing to set before the guest, and we know it.
All our accepting, pastoral skills somehow do not work. All our careful analysis of the biblical text falls flat. All our carefully crafted proclamations of the good news seem as only clanging cymbals. All our quoting of learned theologians sounds hollow.
None of these put forward as our own skill, achievement, accomplishment take the place of bread.
But we need not despair. Go out into the darkness to the House of Bread. For if we know anything or believe anything it is that we know where there is bread enough and to spare. We know where the supply is fresh every morning and new every evening and where midnight itself is no deterrent.
Be bold to ask, and expect to receive. If a sleepy villager will answer readily and abundantly the request of a desperate friend, how much more will God, true to his character, supply whatever we need?
We who serve in ministry and who thus serve at this Table are not the suppliers of the bread, nor are we the hosts. We only receive, offer, and distribute that which Another provides.
Jesus Christ is both Host and Feast. He invites us all to come. He supplies the midnight meal. What he offers is his body broken, his blood shed, for us.
Surely in this bread and cup we can have our hunger satisfied, our weariness relieved, our strength renewed for the further journey.
Be assured that the One who hears our cry for three loaves at midnight will rise and give us whatever we need.
See! He already has, for the loaves are on the Table.
The sermon is essentially a retelling of the biblical passage with the use of some imagination. The conclusion applies the eucharistic motifs of the parable to the Lord's Supper and to the practice of ministry. The sermon departs from the usual interpretation which has the man making the request knocking loudly on the door and the man inside answering reluctantly. This interpretation owes a great deal to Kenneth E. Bailey's exegesis of the Parable in Poet and Peasant Through Peasant Eyes, pp. 119--141.
What a complicated network of relationships clusters around those three loaves at midnight.
There is the weary traveler after we know not how long a journey seeking hospitality at his friend's house. It is late, but he knows full well that he will be received because in that culture hospitality is mandatory, and the one whose house he seeks is his friend.
But his arrival must be unexpected, for his friend is not prepared for guests. Oh, the friend does not hesitate to receive the guest, but what will he set before him to let him know that he is truly welcomed? There are no fresh baked loaves in the house, for this household's baking day is yet a day away. There are broken fragments left over from the family meal eaten just after sunset. But these will not do for a guest. What to do when the host wishes to spread a bountiful table but has only ordinary fare, and not enough of that?
Midnight it may be, but the friend who is the host knows where there is bread enough and to spare - the house two doors down the street. Today he saw the woman of the house coming from the village ovens, her basket brimming with fresh baked bread. He can still smell the warm aroma of the yeasty loaves.
There he will go and ask. He will not ask for everything. He will ask for only three loaves, more than enough for his guest, enough to symbolize welcome, but little enough so that his neighbor can easily spare it.
The host invites his traveling friend to make himself comfortable and then slips out into the darkened street to the house two doors down. He puts his lips close to the chink in the door and calls out in a voice loud enough to be heard within, but not raucous enough to arouse the neighbors, for, after all, it is midnight.
"Friend, lend me three loaves, for a friend of mine has arrived on a journey and I have nothing to set before him."
The householder inside stirs in his bed. "Friend, lend me three loaves ..." echoes in his ear. Is he dreaming or is someone outside asking for three loaves? He sits up in bed. The voice sounds familiar.
"Eleazar, is that you?" he asks in a stage whisper.
"Yes, Ezekiel, it is I. Please, lend me three loaves for a friend of mine...."
"I heard you the first time. Keep your voice down. You will wake the children, and what is worse, you will wake my wife."
Ezekiel sits there in the night and thinks of all the excuses he could give.
"It's midnight, man, and the door is shut. It is too much trouble to get up and open it. We just got these kids settled down, and one of them is already beginning to whimper a little. Go somewhere else to borrow bread."
But Ezekiel knows that he could never give these excuses. He might if the three loaves at midnight were a matter only between himself and Eleazar. But what would the traveler think if he came to this village and his host had a difficult time giving him a decent meal? What kind of neighbors would he think Eleazar had if he could not borrow as little as three loaves? And what would the whole town say the next day when they found out that a friend had asked for bread to set before a guest and had been refused?
In those three loaves at midnight Ezekiel's whole sense of honor and integrity is at stake. Midnight or not, shut door or not, sleeping kids or not, he must be true to himself and to his community. So he gets up quickly, gathers not only the three loaves but whatever else is needed for a welcoming meal. He puts it all in a big basket, takes it to the door, opens the door, and gives it to Eleazar.
Eleazar hurries back to his own home and his weary, traveling friend. He spreads a white linen cloth on the table. From the basket he takes out all the things Ezekiel has given him. He lays before his friend a feast, with the three loaves in the center of the table.
The three loaves at midnight have done their work.
The traveler is properly welcomed. He eats, is satisfied, is strengthened for his further journey, and his weariness is relieved.
The host has extended proper hospitality. He has become host indeed. Although his own resources had not been enough, he did not hesitate to seek the place of bread, to ask for three loaves, and to trust that he would receive them in the middle of the night.
The householder who had the bread can shut his door again, lie down surrounded by his sleeping children, and know that he has been true to himself and has not betrayed the honor of his village.
There are three loaves on the Table before us. Where did they come from? If we want to be literal about it, they came from Sedera Moore in the dining hall. Let me assure you that I did not obtain them by going next door to the Moores' house at midnight and calling out, "Friend, lend me three loaves." However, there have been times enough when I have disturbed the Moores' midnight rest in some crisis situation and have never been refused.
But if we put these loaves in the context of the words of Jesus and the atmosphere of the Lord's Supper, they come from God. For the parable is preceded by Jesus' teaching his disciples to pray, "Father ... give us this day our daily bread." Thus does Jesus recognize God as the one who supplies our needs, the basic, daily, on--going needs symbolized by bread. By giving us the prayer he encourages us to ask for bread and to expect to receive it.
The parable is followed by a series of sayings in which Jesus assures us that God is far more abundantly generous than any earthly friend or parent. He gives far more than bread. He gives himself.
But what has the parable to suggest about the three loaves on the Table? Perhaps it has a special word to say to those of us who as ministers seek to play the role of host.
How often the weary traveler comes - some crisis situation, unexpected, unprepared for, at some inconvenient hour. We wish to welcome and receive the traveler; we want to handle the situation in the most appropriate, best way possible. But of ourselves we have nothing to set before the guest, and we know it.
All our accepting, pastoral skills somehow do not work. All our careful analysis of the biblical text falls flat. All our carefully crafted proclamations of the good news seem as only clanging cymbals. All our quoting of learned theologians sounds hollow.
None of these put forward as our own skill, achievement, accomplishment take the place of bread.
But we need not despair. Go out into the darkness to the House of Bread. For if we know anything or believe anything it is that we know where there is bread enough and to spare. We know where the supply is fresh every morning and new every evening and where midnight itself is no deterrent.
Be bold to ask, and expect to receive. If a sleepy villager will answer readily and abundantly the request of a desperate friend, how much more will God, true to his character, supply whatever we need?
We who serve in ministry and who thus serve at this Table are not the suppliers of the bread, nor are we the hosts. We only receive, offer, and distribute that which Another provides.
Jesus Christ is both Host and Feast. He invites us all to come. He supplies the midnight meal. What he offers is his body broken, his blood shed, for us.
Surely in this bread and cup we can have our hunger satisfied, our weariness relieved, our strength renewed for the further journey.
Be assured that the One who hears our cry for three loaves at midnight will rise and give us whatever we need.
See! He already has, for the loaves are on the Table.
