9 Pentecost, Christ Church, St. Joseph
In our Old Testament lesson two weeks ago, a passage a few chapters earlier in 2nd Samuel, we were painted this delightful picture of King David leaping and dancing before the Lord.
The occasion was moving the Ark of the Covenant—the centerpiece of Hebrew worship of the One God—from the house of the Levite Abinidab, where King Saul had parked it to collect dust 20 years earlier.
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| New Orleans Second Line, photo by Charles Lovell. |
Of course, I’m historically putting the cart before the horse. It would be more accurate and appropriate to say that the New Orleans Second Line is in the fine tradition of King David’s procession returning the Glory of God to its home in Jerusalem!
Either way, my point is that David was not merely moving a piece of furniture. He was making a statement about what kind of king he would be. In contrast to his predecessor, he was saying, the One God and the worship of the One God will be at the center of my kingship.
Well, yes, David was, by and large, a righteous king. But we also know, as told in today’s passage just a few chapters later in 2nd Samuel, that David was capable of great treachery. That David fell to temptation, then compounded his sin with an evil cover-up.
Oh, what humans will do to try to save face! And the more powerful the human, the more likely their face-saving cover-ups will lead to the death and destruction of innocent lives. We see evidence of that in our national and international politics all the time.
So as a model for kingship, David is definitely a mixed bag. Jesus is a different story altogether.
Here in the middle of our Gospel lesson, John states, When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.
I don’t think we need rocket science to figure out that it is earthly kingship—precisely the kind of kingship that contributed to David’s fall from grace—that Jesus is rejecting and fleeing from.
Certainly John does a good job of portraying Jesus as a leader, and a strong one at that. One who knows what he is going to do but nevertheless gives his disciples an opportunity to suggest a solution to the problem at hand.
Here I think it important to note that John tells this story of the feeding of the 5,000 a bit differently from the other Gospels. For example, Matthew 14:15 & 16 says:
As evening approached, the disciples came to [Jesus] and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.” Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”
Luke and Mark are virtually identical to Matthew: The disciples—not Jesus—initiate the discussion. They want to send the crowd away. Jesus says no, you feed them.
But in John’s account, Jesus initiates the discussion, and he does it even though he knows already what he is going to do, and he does it as a test of them. It’s almost as if he’s saying, ‘Okay, guys, have you figured out yet what kind of king I am?’
Of course they haven’t, and so he shows them, again. And I’ll come back to that part of the story in a moment, but first an aside: I point out that John’s account of this miracle is different from the accounts of Matthew, Mark & Luke, NOT to start an argument about which account is “the right one.” I do not think those arguments are necessary, nor do they lead us to a deeper understanding of the Bible. I think they are distractions from what we can learn from the Bible.
Rather, I ask, “What can we learn from each telling of the story? What can we learn from THIS telling of the story, that we don’t learn from those other tellings?”
John’s Gospel presents Jesus as a strong, fearless leader, a man in charge, a shepherd leading with a firm but tender hand, a man in charge of his own destiny as well. In John, Jesus’ life is not taken from him; he gives it freely.
So.., back to the feeding of the 5,000. The disciples, who have themselves just returned from their first mission trip with stories of miraculous healings and exorcisms, still do not yet fully understand what kind of king Jesus is.
So Jesus shows them: I’m the kind of king who feeds people, physically and spiritually. Moreover, you are what you eat. The physical food you eat today satisfies your belly for a few hours. The spiritual food I offer transforms lives.
Just what, do you suppose, was the miracle that took place on that hill near the Sea of Galilee some 2,000 years ago? I’m sure God can create out of nothing at any time. I’m sure God can cause molecules of bread and fish to magically multiply.. at any time.
But that kind of miracle would be almost unremarkable. After separating light from dark and sea from dry land, after hanging the sun, moon and stars in the heavens, I’m guessing God could multiply bread and fish without breaking a sweat.
I’m guessing a greater miracle happened on that day so long ago. I’m guessing Jesus blessed the bread and fish.. and through his compassion and his act of love and thanksgiving and praise, God became known to the gathered throng in that breaking of the bread.
“You are what you eat.” Our Bishop loves to say that. When he offers consecrated bread and wine in the feast of Holy Eucharist, he says, “Become what you receive.” The physical food you eat today satisfies your belly for a few hours. The spiritual food offered in the breaking of bread transform lives.
Photo by World Food Programme
Because when God becomes known to humankind, our hearts are opened and miracles happen, miracles of giving and sharing even when we ourselves are in hard times, of welcoming strangers, of caring for the least among us. So much so that we have more blessing left over than what we started with.
You’ve heard it many times: “I went to the homeless shelter or the food bank or the mission field to give/help/do something for people who are less fortunate than me,” people say, “and I got more out of it than I gave.”
When God is revealed to us, when we recognize the Divine within and among us, when we see ourselves and our neighbors—all of them—as God’s beloved, human hearts are transformed.
Meister Eckhart, a German theologian and Franciscan monk of the 14th Century, said it this way (from Edge of the Enclosure, 7/30/11):
For
not only bread
but all things necessary
for sustenance in this life
are given on loan to us
with others
and because of others
and for others
to others through us.
In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. AMEN.
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