“As the crowd who gathered to hear Jesus preach was able to share two fish and five loaves with more than enough left over, they discovered that when their gifts were blessed, they increased and became a blessing to others.”

We just heard these words in the Prayers of the People. But because they were also part of our service last Sunday, and because it fell to me to read them, they stuck with me this past week. I had been asked to speak this morning, drawing on my years of making music as a member of our choir. The message of little becoming much, of scarcity becoming plenty, expresses a thought that regularly occurs to me singing in the choir. We singers come from very different backgrounds, we have very different abilities, but together our talents are multiplied.

Some of us have clear, light, focussed voices, some of us have voices that have with time become a bit wobbly, in my case more than a bit. Some of us can sight read musical notation easily, others depend on their ears, adroitly following along with what they hear. But when we come together and sing with Suzanne and Jeffrey, the quality of our disparate voices and skills doesn’t matter. We create a new voice together.

Some of us have sung primarily at home or in the car, more or less alone with whatever recording happens to be playing. Some of us have sung solos on big stages in front of large crowds. A few of us probably do our most uninhibited singing in the shower. But when we come together and sing with Suzanne and Jeffrey, our individual practices as performers don’t matter. We become something special together.

A few of us grew up singing Renaissance madrigals, some of us grew up belting out Broadway songs like “I’m Gonna Wash that Man Right Out of My Hair,” others grew up singing along with Bob Dylan, Carole King, or Aretha Franklin. (I’m dating myself.) One of us, I’m pretty sure grew up singing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” But when we come together and sing with Suzanne and Jeffrey, our eclectic musical preferences don’t matter. We develop a new focus together. In our modest but remarkable way, we exemplify the story of the fish and loaves every week.

What is true of the choir is in one way or another true of every committee and group undertaking at St. Martin’s. We can do so much more with others than we can alone. Stewardship appeals are not only appeals for money. It is easy to point out that we are blessed with great music at St. Martin’s because we can afford it. And it is easy enough to imagine how our programs for the children and youths of the parish will benefit from generous pledges. And how much we, in this active and complex community of ours, could profit from having an assistant rector. But stewardship also means giving of our talents and experience, it means getting involved. It means giving so that we might grow, individually and together.

Let me paraphrase the last words of the last song The Beatles recorded together as a way of disputing their message, “And in the end …” the gifts you receive are not just equal to the gifts you give, they are far greater. Which leads me back to my opening:

“As the crowd who gathered to hear Jesus preach was able to share two fish and five loaves with more than enough left over, they discovered that when their gifts were blessed, they increased and became a blessing to others.”