Gimme a sign!

Grace Episcopal Church, August 1, 2021 

When I first read the lessons in beginning to prepare this sermon, it struck me as a bit ironic that I was called upon to speak to you about “the bread of life” on this day when we will NOT have communion! 

But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed an opportunity. After all, we Episcopalians are people of the Eucharist. Our prayer book is centered on the rite of Holy Eucharist, so much so that when it is not offered, attendance typically drops. Many thanks to you who showed up anyway! 

So maybe we don’t need another sermon about how Christ is our manna from heaven, our “bread of life” known to us in the breaking of bread. We got that! 

 

Maybe there’s some other point we need to take from today’s Gospel. The story is that some of the 5,000 who had been fed the previous day (last Sunday’s Gospel lesson) had hung around. But when morning came they realized that Jesus and his disciples had departed. They were no longer out there on the hillside. So they—the remains of the crowd—got into boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. 

And they find him and this strange dialogue takes place, “strange” because it is so clear that they sort of talk past each other. The crowd begins with a very literal, earth-bound kind of question: Rabbi, when did you come here? 

But Jesus isn’t interested in getting drawn into a conversation about worldly matters, like “when…?” and “how did you get here?” and so forth. Jesus wants to talk about spiritual things and so he challenges them right away. You’re here because your bellies are growling again, he says, not because you experienced God in what happened out on that hillside. 

And the people respond with another pretty earth-bound request: Ok, then just tell us what to do, they say. Give us a step-by-step, like ‘Go do this and this, and you’ll please God.’ 

I’ve known people like that. I’ve been that person. You know: ‘Don’t ask me to think. Don’t ask me to discern. Don’t ask me to become aware or tune in to other people and what’s going on with them. Just give me a “to-do” list, I’ll do it and we’ll be square. Right, God? 

So Jesus attempts to say again that experiencing God is less a to-do list than a condition of the heart and soul, the awareness of God in the person standing right in front of us, the awareness of God in the world around us. 

And what do the people want next? A sign! Give us a sign, they say. Remember, these are some of the same people who witnessed the feeding of the 5,000 some 24 hours earlier. 

I laughed out loud when I read this line again a few days ago. At this point, we might well ask, What is going on with these people? 

Well, like us, their feet are stuck in the muck of earthly things and earthly thinking. Jesus is talking about spiritual things, things of the kingdom of God. They are occupied with the daily grind of human things, like food on the table. 

Jesus offers spiritual food. They need food for their physical bodies. Jesus offers the presence of God in this world hear and now. They want a to-do list. Jesus gave them a sign. They saw only a miracle. 

So here’s a good place to point out that the word “miracle” does not occur in the Gospel according to John. Not once. The changing of water to wine at the wedding in Cana is there.., but it’s a “sign” according to John. The healing of the paralytic at Bethesda is there, but it’s not called a “miracle.” It’s called a “sign.” And so on, throughout John’s Gospel. 

 

So what’s the difference? A “miracle” is most commonly defined as a supernatural phenomenon of some kind. It’s something we humans cannot explain by any of our usual methods: reason, science, logic, whatever. All we can do is marvel at it. 

And notice that we can leave it at that. Marvel and move on. Not so a “sign,” because a sign points to something beyond itself. A sign says, there’s a greater, larger, more profound meaning that this thing right here points to. 

Ignoring a sign has consequences, like getting a speeding ticket because you didn’t attend to the speed limit sign. Or ending up in the hospital because you ignored the sign that you needed to go to the doctor about something. 

Miracles don’t require action on our part. In fact, they kind of discourage action because we know full well we can’t do them. All we can do is ask God to do one for us. 

A sign, on the other hand, does encourage action. Turn here. Slow down here. Go to the doctor now. Call a plumber before this drip turns into a flood. Etc. 

At the very least, a sign says, ‘Consider the larger meaning here. What is this sign pointing to? What does this sign require of me?’ 

And so the people who saw a miracle ask for a sign. They got their bellies filled, but they missed the point. Now Jesus has challenged their literal, earthly thinking, asked them to think spiritually, and they ask for a sign. To which Jesus rightly and succinctly responds, ‘I’m it. I’m the sign.’

Did they get it? I don’t know. Probably not fully or permanently. Do we get it? Maybe, partially, momentarily. 

So… here’s what I want us to take away from this strange, ships-passing-in-the-night dialogue today. I have two points, and I’m going to tread on the first one kind of lightly because I don’t want to give a wrong impression. 

The first one is this: Have we perhaps gotten so caught up in the rite of Holy Eucharist that we can’t and/or don’t encounter God any other way? 

 I mean, we understand Holy Eucharist as a sign, a sign that points to things far bigger than a wafer of bread and a drop of wine, a sign whereby we experience oneness with God. Hallelujah! 

BUT, if we are only encountering God here, in Holy Eucharist, we are impoverished. We are fetishizing THE sign when we are surrounded by a world full of signs. We are looking for God, open to God, in church and not in the world. 

God IS here in the breaking of the bread. Absolutely and positively. But God is also out there, in the guy standing on the street corner with a sign, penciled on cardboard, that says “homeless, please help.” 

That’s the second point, the one I want to tread on harder. God is out there. God. Is. Out. There. 

I don’t mean only in the homeless guy standing on the street corner, although I do mean that. And, as an aside: Whether he is actually homeless or running a grift is between him and God. Let’s err on the side of helping, rather than risk not helping someone who really needs help. But I mean more. 

 

The homeless person is, him or herself, not merely holding a sign, but a living sign of structural issues in our society, issues that require our attention as followers of Jesus. A few of those issues that person could be pointing to are 1) inadequate access to mental health care, 2) treating addiction like a crime rather than a disease, 3) lack of affordable housing, 4) stagnant wages that relegate essential workers to living in poverty. 

 I’m not going to stand here and spout glib answers as to exactly how we address these issues. As usual, the devil is in the details. But I will acknowledge, I am keenly aware, that it is much easier to hand a couple of bucks to a homeless person, than to confront the systems that create homelessness. 

So let me conclude with this: We are called to encounter God inside these glorious sanctuaries and at the Holy Table. But that’s the beginning, not the end. As followers of Jesus, we are called to encounter God out there, in carrying out the greatest commandment, the “to-do” list Jesus indeed gave us: Love God and your neighbor as yourself.

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. AMEN.