I remember the first meeting of the Sabbatical Task Force this spring. Jane, Kris Felbeck, Sandy Johnson, Paul Snyder, Mary Jean Korsmo, Linda Valerian, and I gathered in the Parlor to brainstorm ideas for how to make this time of Jane’s absence special for the community. I remember the energy in that room, that as soon as the question was asked, “What ideas do you have?” the energy and the ideas just poured out. I look back on that meeting, and all the subsequent meetings that soon brought in Cynthia Hendricks as well, as such a sustained, collective labor of love for this community. So much that has happened over the last three months at First Church—the special services, the Wednesday evening gatherings, the special e-news content—it has all sought to nourish this community with chances for fun and connection. Opportunities to put down all of the tasks and just breathe and be ourselves together.

The theme of nourishment runs through our two scriptural readings. The psalm gives praise for the nourishment God sent for the Israelites during their 40 years in the wilderness after escaping the Pharoah. Manna, the mysterious bread that the text tells us fell to earth every morning, and quails would descend on their camps every evening to provide a source of protein. A miracle that sustained them through decades of wandering. 

And the Bread of Life discourse from the Gospel of John. Jesus chides the crowds for thinking with their stomachs, not their hearts, in seeking him out. Again, the manna story is evoked, God’s care in the form of food to keep our physical bodies chugging along. But Jesus brushes away the trivial concern of an empty stomach to emphasize this confusing, enticing concept of everlasting life. He says that the part of us that remains after our bodies die, our soul, our essence, whatever words resonate for you can also be nourished. Jesus says that there is food for maintaining this lasting, this EVER-lasting life, and it is belief in Jesus and his way being of God.

I think about this summer sabbatical in those terms, of the levels of nourishment of the body and the spirit. Both are important, and a lack of either leads to illness. Sometimes, a miracle happens, and in the process of nourishing your body your soul also gets nourished. Like in the psalm, “And they ate and were well filled, for he gave them what they craved.” Once the Israelites’ bellies were full, maybe they could see that what their souls craved in the uncertainty and groundlessness of the wilderness was the structure and love that God provided.

This summer there were many opportunities to nourish the body here at First Church, through snacks and shared meals, through opportunities to destress and just have fun together. We tried a lot of stuff. But I would say that the most successful, best-attended offerings reveal some things that truly nurture the soul of First Church.

The special worship services led by Kris and Paul both reminded us of the power of hearing personal stories of encountering mystery with awe and wonder, particularly through nature. All the stories shared were gifts. Do you remember them? They’ve stuck with me: the image of Judith trapped deep in a Canadian river, feeling both a nearness to death and an awe for the beauty of the water and light. The image of Carl in his tent high on a Wyoming mountain hearing the message not to push to the summit. Eileen’s fascination and joy at the infinite variety in vegetable shapes. The stories we tell each other, especially stories that hold deep meaning for reasons we can’t quite explain, they nourish the soul of First Church. As finite beings, we cannot know definitively what it is to touch God, but these stories provide hope that when we try there is expansiveness, and joy, and awe.

Speaking of joy, remember the Gathering Hall packed with busy crafters and game players of all ages? I can picture Anja and Torsten playing Taco Cat Cheese Pizza with Mary Jean, and Theodore dueling Mike at chess. There was such great energy in the room. For me, at least, there is a soul nourishment that is unlocked by the joy of children. Time changes, the quality of personal interconnection deepens. It’s a space of communion with each other and with something broader and greater, too, and I thank Sarah Almén for planning those events.

There were also powerful intergenerational events on the other end of the spectrum. Visits to our beloved elder church members, Clyde and Cynthia, were also deeply meaningful. This community cares for its elders so well and stretches itself to provide hospitality even to folks challenged to come to the physical church. The summer visits to our elders demonstrated to me how the material nurture that the congregation provides our elders—the rides, the visits—they in turn nourish our souls with their wisdom and steadfast presence.

One facet of the great mystery is that sometimes it takes a trip into the wilderness, a step away from routines that our rational minds experience as comfortable, to remember what nurtures that everlasting part of us. Sometimes we need a reset. Sometimes we need to try some things and fail to touch that place that needs nurture before we remember what does. And once we re-find it, our nourished souls can once again live into our interconnectedness. We remember that our nourishment comes from each other and from our place in creation.

May we all bring this sense of sabbatical forward. May we continue to seek God’s nurturing love, and may our moments of connection give us the courage to do the work of justice to which God calls us and that Jesus modeled. Amen.