The
gospel lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary for Pentecost Nine (John 6:1-21)
is familiar to most of us, I would think, from back in Sunday School days.
Still, I’m going to try to see if I can squeeze a little more juice out of it
than just an obvious reading of, “Oh, yeah. Right. Jesus performs miracles because
he’s the Son of God.” I can’t pretend to get into the evangelist John’s head
and tell you exactly what he was
thinking when he wrote this tale down, but I’m finding that it speaks pretty
loudly to me when I think about our needy world.
The
first cool thing I notice about this story is that Jesus seems to anticipate
the need before anyone else does. He and the disciples have gone to the eastern
shore of the Sea of Galilee, and, being the rock star that he is, he is once
again mobbed by hysterical fans who want to see him cure their sick, work some
miracles, and teach them some cool stuff. But before anyone else mentions it,
Jesus picks up on the fact that these folks are going to need to be fed (v.5).
It looks like the Second Person of the Holy Trinity understands our need before
we understand it ourselves. So what does he do? He asks his faithful follower
Philip to tell him how the need should be met. Think about that. Isn’t God
always asking his faithful followers—that would be us—that same question? How are we going to care for the needy?
The
passage says that Jesus asks Philip as a test, because he already knows the
answer himself (v.6). Poor Phil, however, doesn’t score too high on this oral
quiz. Granted, he’s known that God gave Moses manna in the wilderness, that
Elijah miraculously kept the widow’s pantry full even in time of famine, and
that Elisha stretched out twenty loaves of barley to feed 100 people. But in
spite of this history of God’s goodness, Philip still doubts that God’s
creatures can be fed. At least, he doesn’t believe that he has the wherewithal to
provide for them. His buddy Andrew points out that some smart lad in the crowd
has packed a lunch, but he’s sure that such meagre resources can’t stretch to
cover the overwhelming hunger. Isn’t that just like us?
But
Jesus takes what’s on hand and gives
thanks to God for it (v.11). This action cuts through the anxiety and
insecurity. Jesus isn’t complaining about scarcity, but giving praise for
blessing. A faithful relationship with the Creator God requires no less. Just
imagine: the crappiest day you’ll ever have in your life will still be filled
with more blessings than you can name. That day you drive home from work
pounding the steering wheel in frustration because of the idiots you work with
might be the day you recognize that you still have a steering wheel to pound, a
home to go to, and a job where you encountered those idiots. Faith teaches that
God’s love is abundant, and our
lesson illustrates this by saying that all were satisfied, leaving twelve
baskets of leftovers (v.13).
Unfortunately,
God’s abundant grace is a concept which seems to be lost on the crowd in this
story. Yup, they figure out that Jesus is a prophet, but they also start to see
him as their meal ticket. Jesus doesn’t want to be their earthly king (v.15)
who pays off like their personal ATM machine every time they think they need
something. He sees these folks acting like entitled brats who think they’ve hit
the lottery. They’re like prospectors who’ve found a vein of gold and think
they deserve its riches just because they’ve discovered it, forgetting it has
been formed by God and lain in the earth for millions of years before they ever
came along. They don’t deserve to be fed—the beauty of the story is that they
are fed out of God’s goodness even though they are undeserving. Jesus is no king in their way of thinking, so he makes
himself scarce in a hurry.
The
second part of this story has the twelve disciples heading home in their boat
without Jesus. I’m going to look at this tale allegorically, and say that the rough
sea of verse 18 is the ancient world’s symbol for chaos. In the swirling
torrent of the world’s mess, the disciples see Jesus walking toward them, and
they’re scared out of their freaking minds (v. 19). It’s only when they really
recognize him that they want to take him into the boat, and as soon as they
have that desire—it doesn’t even say that Jesus got into the boat, just that
they wanted to take him in —they are
safely home (v. 21).
Like
the disciples in the story, we are always adrift in a storm of the world’s
chaos. We see needs which seem too great to satisfy, and so we are frightened,
preoccupied with scarcity, and curved in on our own abilities and resources. We
fear the real discipleship relation with Jesus. It might cost us. It might make
us lose our groove. It might bring ridicule or offend people we know. It might
actually require sacrifice on our part. It might cause us to risk resources we
don’t think we can spare or face challenges we believe to be too huge. But
once we really recognize Jesus in our lives and recognize our need for him,
recognize his love, forgiveness, sacrifice, gratitude, and the peace which
comes from understanding our life is eternal and our problems temporary, we
will want him in our lives. And just maybe, in the wanting, we will come home
to ourselves at last.
Glad
you stopped by this week. God bless you.
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