Ninth Sunday after Pentacost

Bread of Life & Leftovers

For the next five Sundays, including today, in our reading from the Gospel of John, we will explore what Jesus means by declaring that he is the “Bread of Life”.

We begin with Jesus feeding the five thousand in John 6:1-15 and end with John 6:60-69 and some of Jesus’ followers leaving because they could not accept his teachings about who he was. Today, and in the four succeeding Sundays, we are asked to reflect on our hunger for righteousness and how it is unlike any other longing we have; in fact, it is the only longing we cannot satisfy ourselves.

We begin this series with hungry people, a lot of hungry people—-five thousand according to the gospel, but, of course, that is only counting the men! 

Our reading from Elisha also involves feeding a hungry crowd though only two percent of the crowd Jesus faced. Two very important elements connect the two stories: signs and abundance.  In both stories, the events were considered “signs”, or markers that pointed towards a new existence. For Elisha, the sign wasn’t entirely clear: amidst famine, God provides—-God as a refuge in times of trouble. Samira, the place of Elisha’s “sign” was currently experiencing a famine, and the barley loaves set before the prophet Elisha became the blessing not only to be sufficient but to be a sign of God’s abundance in the face of famine.

Likewise in today’s gospel, Jesus is faced with the doubt of his claim that what was brought before him would be sufficient to feed the hungry crowd (this time, five thousand—at least). Again, what was considered insufficient was not only sufficient but an abundance as evidenced by leftovers. In fact, there were more leftovers than the original number of loaves and fishes: “twelve wicker baskets of fragments”. The leftovers symbolized the twelve as Jesus’ core disciple retinue, but also the link to the twelve “remnant” tribes of Israel, ten of whom have been lost.

The people of Israel themselves are signs of God’s abundance, and though small in the scale of the people of the world, more than sufficient for “feeding” the world and announcing God in their midst.

But, like so many times in Jesus’ ministry, he is mistaken as the Messiah/king who will drive out the Romans and usher in a new kingdom of righteousness with Israel’s greatness once again established and God’s blessing upon them. Today’s gospel ends with Jesus retreating into solitude. He needed time to regroup and realized that a great deal of further instruction was necessary because his “sign” was woefully misinterpreted.

The expectation of God’s abundance often translates into earthly wealth and power. Entire “prosperity gospel” themes are broadcast to hundreds of thousands of hungry people. But the sad truth of these distortions of Jesus’ message is that the food of material wealth and power has no spiritual nutrition; it's all empty calories. If you are hungry for power and money, then Christianity offers you nothing. If you hunger and thirst for righteousness, then pull up a seat at the table.

God’s bread feeds the truly hungry with food that will satisfy humanity’s deepest longing. As we will see as we progress through the sixth chapter of John, Jesus returns and opens us this mystery of being the Bread of Life.

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost

The Good Shepherd

As the metaphor goes, we are the sheep, Christ is our shepherd.  Since the resurrection and ascension, those following in the tradition of the Apostles are the appointed shepherds and are supposed to be "good".  What we find, however, is corruption of every kind, with islands of hope; in short, we are not so much focused today on "separating the sheep from the goats" as the good shepherds from the malevolent ones.  We should also be challenged to move beyond our hierarchical concept of the shepherd as found in the Church and look for shepherds among the sheep.  Sheep make excellent shepherds.

Jesus calling to be a shepherd was in response to his "pity", but the translation loses the deeper sense of empathy Jesus feels for the crowd's need. The crowds of Jesus' time, like ours, represent people hungry for hope.  They hope for healing, hope for inclusion into God's kingdom, for the Shepherd who is there Lord who will provide for their needs, "from nothing I shall want".  In short, the expectation is that Jesus is the possibility of a better life.

The Gospel of Prosperity is a perversion of Jesus' good news, but people fill congregations to hope for a better life.  In our culture, a better life usually implies a life filled with more things and greater power.  Jesus' good news wasn't that you would get rich following him, or that one would become more powerful in society, but that there was a pathway to God's kingdom that he was walking and invited others to experience in his response to "come and see".

In Mark's gospel, this section serves as a transition between the return of the 12 from having been sent forth (last week's gospel reading) and the next section of Jesus feeding the 5,000.  It is plausible that some in the crowd had followed the disciples who had returned from their mission, people who wanted to meet Jesus and see, first hand, who this person was.  But the crowds were vast, the disciples tired from the mission, so Jesus invited them to "rest a while".  But people followed the progress of the boat and crowded the shore ahead of them.

Unlike the popular "Gospel of Prosperity", Jesus' call wasn't material empowerment, but his good news was that the Kingdom of God/Heaven was possible now, among those who seek it.  This was the core of Jesus' message.  Making Jesus relevant to the crowds who come to Christianity out of desperation (is there really any other way?) isn't a matter of telling them how wealthy and great everything is going to be, how powerful they all will become, how their stock investments will be fruitful after prayer; Jesus' relevancy is hidden in finding community and telling our stories, in sharing graces and, as Paul says, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn."  Salvation is here among us.  It isn't a beam of light from the cosmos; it is a journey of vulnerability and celebration.

Jesus' shepherding led people to shepherd; the sheep became shepherds.  Following the Good Shepherd gives us value not because we are excellent sheep, but because we are loved by our shepherd who is good.  From this love, we are called to shepherd one another, to respond to the need in our brother and sister, and to open the Kingdom to everyone.  The Good News is that you are loved; you count.

Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Companions for the Journey

Many scholars believe Jesus' sending of the twelve was a post-Easter addition to the gospel.  Frankly, it doesn't matter much, I suppose because we have inherited that tradition of mission from Jesus' ministry and vision of God breaking into our lives on earth as a healing presence.  The missioner facilitates this "inbreaking" (to use a phrase I have always disliked, but use anyway).

An acquaintance from a former career whom I had not spoken with in years telephoned me the other day.  Since we talked last, she had endured two bad marriages and cancer.  She felt that God was punishing her, and she wanted to know if God could forgive her.  I went over God's single-mindedness to reach out and heal and forgive though this often rocky relationship He has had with humanity.  Essentially, God is all about healing and forgiveness, of moving as close to us as our free will allow; that the phrase "the Kingdom of God" isn't a posthumous reality, but something we can help build today, in our daily life.  I recalled the verse from Jeremiah "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." She didn't need me to find God because he desire was sufficient; she has already been found.  I helped her with a confession and assured her of God's love.  In short, my mission was to heal, because of God's great grace poured out on the Cross.

The disciples were sent out in pairs.  This was genius, having suffered the loss last year of our pastor and my friend.  We offered each other support and encouragement when it seemed our small mission church was a failure.  This last year, we ordained a deacon for our small parish, and I have a new companion in the ministry.  I think God knows me well enough that I could never do this on my own--this is a great grace I am thankful for each and every day.  The point is, God heals, he forgives and works incredibly hard to offer this to everyone.  The detail from "Creation" by Michelangelo shows two arms: one God's one man's  I have this detail hanging above my bed.

For years, I reflected on man's hand reaching out to touch God's half-hearted reach, until one day I recognized that it was man's half-hearted reach, not God's.  So much of the mission is stretching to reach.  At some point, leaving and "shaking the dust from your feet" isn't resignation, but rather allowing someone else to pick up where you left off.  Very often, working alone it is much more difficult to know when to leave, but with a companion, God's voice is made an audible, if not visible, reality.  This is why the person who refuses both the blessing and burden of community is much more likely to have every whim validated by one's desire.

Our mission, then, is the delivery of God's graceful presence; we are all missioners who can do this if we can first find the grace that has been given us to share.