So, what is enough? And I’m not talking about the 2002 motion picture thriller starring Jennifer Lopez.
Now, I know most of you are probably a little surprised by that reference. Normally, you'd think that if I’m gonna mention Jennifer Lopez’s unparalleled acting career, it’s gonna be in reference to that true cinematic examination of the human psyche known simply as Anaconda.
Then again, maybe Jenny From The Block’s Enough does have something to teach us. In the movie, JLo’s character has had it with her relationship and decides to take matters into her own hands. ‘Cause you know what? She’s had enough.
Now full disclosure: I have not exactly seen this movie. To be honest, by the time it came out, I had seen all the Jennifer Lopez movies I wanted to see, which was one. You see, I’d also had enough.
But what is enough? Enough is a tricky word. It’s got several overlapping meanings. Enough is definitely about quantity, but the amount is uncertain. Maybe it’s barely eking by: He ran just fast enough not to finish last.
Maybe it’s way too much: I’ve had enough to stuff a horse! Maybe it’s a sort of Goldilocks “just right,” especially when it comes to Yankees, as in, “I’ve got enough to get me through the winter.” Seems like enough is normally somewhere in that sufficient range. It’s all you need, but maybe not all you want. So enough is a lesson in and of itself. Really, enough is enough. If it weren’t, it wouldn’t be.
Look at this story from Exodus. “The Lord spoke to Moses and said, “I have heard the complaining of the Israelites; say to them, ‘At twilight you shall eat meat, and in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.’” And lo and behold, enough. Not just enough once, but enough day after day after day until the crisis of living in the wilderness had passed. This manna from heaven, supposedly comes from the Hebrew phrase, meaning, “What is it?” But sometimes I like to think that it just means, “enough.”
Let’s jump forward. This time, to see what Jesus is up to. He’s just finished feeding five thousand people. They clumped around and, as you might imagine after watching a miracle unfold, they didn’t go anywhere. In fact, they press on Jesus, and he and his disciples take off.
Those that remained after the feeding of the five thousand, oddly, felt like they didn’t get enough and they pressed Jesus more. And they pressed him. Stalked him, really. I mean, Jesus ran all the way across the lake to get away from these folks, and here they show up on the other side and say, “Oh, hey there, Jesus, imagine seeing you here.”
Jesus replies brilliantly. They want to know what they can do to “perform the works of God,” really impress God with their holiness, collect merit and achievements. But Jesus replies with the one thing that can’t be seen, the one thing that can’t be collected. He says, “Believe. That is enough.”
“Ok,” they say, “so what are you going to do so that we can believe?” Clearly, they don’t get it. This from the folks that just witnessed those endless baskets of fish and bread. “Give us some more,” they say. It’s the Biblical equivalent of “What have you done for me lately?”
And again, brilliantly, Jesus replies “I am the bread of life.” Jesus, without ever saying no, without refusing to help, without sighing and telling them to get it together, Jesus responds in a way that is both loving and forces their hand.
He doesn’t give a checklist of good deeds, doesn’t provide the fail-safe plan to salvation, doesn’t hand out manuals. Nope, it’s just this: Believe. That’s enough. Belief is enough. But let’s face it, that’s not terribly exciting is it? Nothing in our culture, nothing in advertising, certainly nothing on the news begs us to long for enough. No, we need the tastiest, the shiniest, the biggest. Whatever it is, it has to be at least a little beyond enough, right? And here’s the trick. Because enough is undefined, enough moves with us.
So, this week, I've run an experiment online. I've gone to my Facebook page, my Amazon page, and my Twitter account (I actually opened an account to run this experiment). The Internets and the Googlewebs have been tracking me, you see, and is ready to sell me all sorts of stuff based on things I showed a passing interest in at some point in time. Here's a sampling of things I need, things I must have.
An 18 karat gold metal wallet for $225. A tee shirt of dachshunds dressed like the Avengers. Sour Cream potato chips made out of dried salmon. Cucumber vodka. The greatest pencil in the world made out of titanium. A fasting program. A Gothic lace-up retro denim tee shirt. A violin with video lessons. Seersucker tennis shorts (for what it's worth, I don't play tennis). A parrot. Candle sticks. A charm bracelet. Something called pencil pants, with stiletto heels. Gourmet popcorn balls. A second Subaru. The Funboy Inflatable Palm Drink Holder, perfect for a summer pool party. A cordless iron. A tiny garden that fits in your hand. A star projector night light for kids. A set of 10 handpicked, professionally packed, dried sand dollars. A ship sextant. A hydrangea. A velvet John Wayne blanket (can also be used as a man cave tapestry.) And a lava lamp.
That’s the way the world shows us what we “need.” Once we attain something we’ve longed for, after a while, it becomes normal. Problem is, while I probably DO need that lava lamp, there’s always a next thing to reach for, so normal can’t stay put. And if normal can’t stay put, where do we mark enough? Simply put, as long as we live where having more rules, enough will never be enough.
And this is what makes Jesus’ replies, Jesus’ way of being in the world, so challenging. Because, like those folks grasping for more after the miracle, we feel like we need something more to reach for, too. Something we can attain, to get beyond “enough” so that we’re finally comfortable. Jesus uproots that model by pulling us away from the expected, yanking us out of the world of getting and buying and hoarding and reminding us of what enough looks like. It’s simple, it’s inviting, it’s open. ‘Cause it’s bread, a simple staple. An everyday, plain ol’ thing. But it’s life-giving. And it’s enough.
But I don't know. Maybe those folks that couldn’t stay away from Jesus after the miracle, maybe they actually got something right. Maybe that bread of life is the one thing we ought to gobble up with abandon, the one thing to leave us wanting more. How could we not want more? We come together, hear God’s story, and parables unfold before us. Like folks in the wilderness, we long for God to feed us every day. And that’s enough. But God’s a tricky one, you see. Because, where Jesus calls us to ask for just enough, he gives in abundance. And of that gift, we receive abundance every week. We come here, to this altar, to this church, just barely enough on our own, but we leave filled to the brim with that bread of life. And that, that just might be enough.