Proper 12B. July 25, 2021
2 Samuel 11:1-15. As you live, and as your soul lives, I will not do such a thing.
Ephesians 3:14-21. That Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.
John 6:1-21. Ego eimi mey phobeisthe.
O God of Love, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.
This morning we are observing the Feast Day of Mary Magdalene, transferred from July 22, thanks to our deacon, Bob Greiner’s initiative. Our observation is a little bit of a mash-up (this is Emmanuel Church, after all): the collect of the day, proper preface, and the color of our vestments reflect Mary Magdalene’s feast day, and our lectionary readings and music are for ordinary time because I didn’t want you to miss them. Besides, as Jane Redmont says, “Mary Magdalene challenges us to live in resurrection mode all the time.” So instead of hearing the Easter Day proclamation from Mary Magdalene, Apostle to the Apostles: “I have seen the Lord,” we just heard Bob read the Gospel of John’s version of the feeding of 5,000. It’s a demonstration of seeing the Lord.
One of the most significant stories about Jesus is of feeding a huge hungry crowd. It’s rare that a miraculous story appears in all four Gospels, and there are actually six versions of feeding the multitudes in four Gospels. This signals how important this story is in the foundational narratives of Christianity. The feeding stories share that in common with the testimony that Mary Magdalene was the first witness to the crucifixion and the resurrection. In my Gospel imagination, I feel sure that Mary Magdalene was there for this massive meal, too. The town of Magdala was walking distance from where these miraculous feeding stories are said to have taken place. Some may wonder whether the repetition and similarities of the feeding stories make them more likely memory and less likely metaphor. I don’t know. For me, the stories are equally powerful either as memory or metaphor, and once a story is passed down a generation or two, memory and metaphor can become indistinct from one another. John’s version of the story is written in a way to remind people of God feeding the Israelites in the wilderness; and of Elisha taking a few barley loaves given to him by a young boy and multiplying them to feed one-hundred people with some leftover. The implicit message is that for John, Jesus was more powerful than Moses or Elijah.
The Gospel writer of John sets this feeding story just before Passover. Passover is the most important celebration in the Bible, the annual remembrance that what God wants for God’s children is not enslavement but freedom. The ancient prayers of the Passover celebration invoke the spirit of generosity – out of mindfulness of the hardships that the people have suffered and the cruelty they’ve endured. An English translation of an opening prayer of Passover goes like this: “To all who are in need we therefore say: We know your suffering, and we want to help you in your need. To all who are hungry we say: Come and join us in our abundance.” That’s what I think the writer of this Gospel wanted the hearers to be thinking of when this story got told – the abundance available when people are in right relationship with God.
The context for John’s story is that a large crowd was following him because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. You know a sign is not necessarily a miracle, although a sign can feel like a miracle if you really need what it is pointing to! A sign (in English or in Greek) is a token, a pointer or marker. A sign is intended to be helpful. A sign is something that points to something else. It is not the thing; it shows the way to the thing. The Gospel of John is sometimes called “The Signs Gospel,” because the narrative is organized around seven signs. Now, John the Evangelist may have considered these signs to be miracles, in the sense of grace and gift, but it will help our post-enlightenment ears to back away from our own supernatural definition and understand the signs as indications of or as pointing to the nature or naturalness of the Holy One. The signs are: water changed to wine at a wedding reception, a royal official’s son restored to health in Capernaum, the healing of paralysis in Bethesda, the feeding of 5,000 from the lunch carried by one small child, Jesus walking on water, creating vision in the man blind from birth, and the rising of Lazarus. A large crowd kept following Jesus because they saw the signs he was doing for those who were powerless or helpless, weak, or enfeebled.
It occurs to me that none of the signs, even the healing and feeding, were ends in themselves. They were markers pointing to the shalom of the Holy One, through which relationships and well-being are restored, in which dignity and honor of all people are realized. Healing is a sign. Feeding is a sign. Everyone eating their fill and having leftovers to feed others is a sign. These signs are pointing to a destination or an outcome beyond illness, beyond hunger, beyond death, even beyond Mary Magdalene’s encounter with the Risen Lord in the garden.
John’s feeding story goes that Jesus looked up and saw a large pilgrimage crowd coming toward him up the mountain. It was not a paved road either. A large crowd was clambering clumsily to the place where they thought Jesus was. We can imagine that in this large crowd were a lot of sick people. We can imagine that some were desperate if they were willing to go out of their way to go up this mountain. These must not have been illnesses that a day or two of bed rest would cure.
They were coming up the mountain, a confirmed place to commune with God in Jesus’ time, but not a place for recreational picnics. And these people were hungry. It’s hard to celebrate your freedom, your inherent dignity, and your special-ness to God when you are hungry. We know that from the Exodus stories of the wilderness, and we know it from our own stories. When we are hungry, our minds are so preoccupied that it’s hard enough to function, let alone celebrate. This crowd, coming up the mountain must have looked hungry, because Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we going to get enough bread to feed this mob?” Actually, Jesus was quoting directly from Moses’ wilderness question to God. Whether Philip noticed the quote, he was a realist, and he didn’t mind telling Jesus that there was just no way that they could solve the problem of this crowd’s hunger. Philip basically said, “We can’t afford it.”
Then Andrew chimed in: “There’s a child here who has five barley loaves and two fish.” This was a child who had just enough food for himself for this journey – no more, no less – a sensible amount for a day trip. (By the way, barley is the grain harvested at Passover.) Then Andrew realized the absurdity of what he’d just said and added, “But what are they among so many people?” I can imagine how he felt. How many times I have had a great idea that immediately sounded foolishly impossible as soon as it’s out of my mouth? But Jesus didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he didn’t seem to think that the idea was so foolish.
Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.” They sat down. They were hungry. They were sick. Surely they were dirty, as there’s no mention of a place to wash. They were a mess. Then Jesus took the bread, and when he had given thanks, he gave it to them, with the fish, as much as they wanted. As much as they wanted! Not only that, but there was a lot left over. Twelve baskets were enough for the twelve tribes of Israel, perhaps – enough for everyone. Wait, where did those baskets come from?
What happened and what didn’t happen or how it happened are questions that I think are completely beside the point that this story is trying to make. It’s a story saying something about Jesus and about God’s work in and through Jesus. What this story tells me about Jesus is this: Jesus will use whatever is available to restore the dignity of every human being. Here we learn that one small child with an impossibly small amount of food could provide the catalyst for a great feast. In the face of overwhelming helplessness, Jesus needs what we have, not what we can spare. Jesus doesn’t perform this sign with the small child’s leftovers, or say to the child, “Can I borrow a loaf or two until we get back to town?” Jesus needs what you have and what I have. Jesus demonstrates again and again that God desires our everything. Over and over Jesus demonstrates that not even a small child’s everything is too small for God’s purposes.
In each of the Gospels, a nighttime storm at sea follows the feeding story. Here again I think the real sign is not what one might think. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. Jesus came to them across the sea, but that was not the thing according to John. The thing the sign is pointing to is what Jesus said to the ones in the boat: “I AM. Do not be afraid.” This is the divine revelation. Rather than translating the Greek ego eimi as “it is I,” it should be translated, “I AM.” Even better, “I AM BEING” or “I AM BECOMING”, because the divine revelation is an action verb in the Hebrew Bible. That’s the revelation of the divine to Moses in the burning bush: “I AM BEING WHO I AM BECOMING.” God is not a noun. God is a verb.
“Do not be afraid” is what the Holy One says whenever the Holy One appears in the Bible. “Do not be afraid” is one of the essential ingredients of a theophany, which is a fancy word for divine manifestation. Indeed, Jesus says “do not be afraid” more times than anything else in all of the Gospels. In John’s story, Jesus isn’t stopping the storm or stilling the waves threatening to swamp the boat. Jesus is saying: “I AM BEING. I AM BECOMING. Do not be afraid.” The awestruck disciples want to take Jesus into the boat, and yet suddenly they’ve arrived at their destination – or rather, the next stop wherever they are on their spiritual journey. Jesus’ companions realize that they have arrived safely and rather suddenly and surprisingly through shortage and scarcity, through uncertainty, danger, and terror.
We will talk more about Mary Magdalene at today’s Chapel Camp zoom meeting. What I’ll say now is that I think that Mary Magdalene would say that all the signs point to the nature of the Divine being revealed in the inherent dignity of ourselves and others, a revelation that causes us to want to rise to the challenge to care for others – feeding, tending, healing, unbinding, freeing, raising up to new life. I urge you to pay attention to the signs. No matter what your relationship with the Holy One is like, or how you pray (or how the Spirit intercedes on your behalf with sighs too deep for words), I am convinced that none of us can truly live unless we get to our destination of caring for one another the way Jesus taught us to care for one another. All the signs in the Gospel of John point in that direction, in the direction of restoring dignity and community.