Link to the audio file and manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, April 25th, 2010

Today was the 4th Sunday of Easter.  We're still celebrating the resurrection of Jesus, still trying to come to terms with Jesus being raised and in our midst. 

Here's the link to the audio file for the sermon recorded in this morning's worship service: 

http://www.box.net/shared/5x7skh8aa2



The manuscript I worked from follows below: 



The Fourth Sunday of Easter; April 25, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Acts 9: 36-43
Psalm 23
Revelation 7: 9-17
John 10: 22-30 *

“Believing Jesus is the Christ”

--} Western Christianity has a strange view of the world. When we’re asked about believing in Jesus, we’re easily convinced it’s simply about getting into heaven. “Where are you going to spend eternity…” And the answer goes something like, “If you don’t want it to be ‘down there,’ you need to believe in Jesus….” And just like that, Western Christianity tends to have us “having faith rather than our living “in faith.” In part, because of our westernized history, we often fault the Jews around the Temple in John’s story for “not believing in Jesus.” But we fail to apply the critique to ourselves.

As I read today’s gospel lesson, it seems to me that the Jewish leadership around the Temple is asking something that you and I already have the advantage of “believing.” From our perspective we might ask, “How could these Jews not know already or believe that Jesus is the Messiah?” But there are a lot of reasons—even good reasons—for the Jewish Temple folk to be in doubt, or shock, or awed, or threatened… even when we’re not. We often assume that our post-modern faith should be exported “backwards” through time—thinking that everyone should or could believe as we do. WE don’t find it so challenging to “believe” Jesus is the Messiah, and think other’s shouldn’t either. And yet, FAITH—now or then—still comes with the significant challenge of changed behavior.

While many modern “believers” feel slighted by the Jewish authorities’ lack of belief in Jesus, we needn’t. What we should be trying to cope with is what Jesus’ messianic appearances mean in terms of a post-resurrection and post-modern faith. And we can start, not by asking ourselves about how first-century Jews could have doubts about Jesus, but by asking ourselves what it means that WE BELIEVE Jesus is the messiah. Since we believe that Jesus is the Messiah, what is supposed to be different about our lives? Our story? Our Church? Our Faith? Consider that for a moment: What is “different” about your life because you believe?

Because in any age, the faith of Jesus the Messiah should have a powerful expression in human living. In first-century Palestine, the powerful expression Jesus offered was belief that the signs pointed to God’s kingdom being present in the world—both in Jesus, but also in the faith of people who trusted as they saw him and acted on that trust. Time and again, Jesus invited people to believe and take stock of a new way of being—a way not dominated by the ways of the world, but a way that capitulated to the norms of the Kingdom of God. It sounds good, doesn’t it? But BELIEVING in Jesus means our lives have to be reshaped by that faith. And that’s where the rub is. “It is not enough to say “I have faith,” one has to BE in faith!”

What kinds of things did you consider were different in your life because you are in the faith of Jesus the Messiah? We often come up with differences like:

• I go to church;
• I act morally;
• I believe in God;
• I respect others.

But how often do we consider the more stringent rubrics of being in faith and find them necessary for daily living? Things like:

• Loving our neighbors;
• Praying for our enemies (we probably don’t think we have any enemies!);
• Ensuring all people have access to the necessities of life (food, water, shelter, pursuit of happiness);
• Do we find ways of being compassionate, kind, and truly just every single day! And do we think about those who have less than we do and are we willing to work toward ways of sharing?

These things COST us something; and we often fear the price must be too high, literally and otherwise. People actually say things like, “do you think we should have to pay for ALL people to have healthcare in this country? For everyone to have a doctor, to be able to go to the pharmacy, to have needed surgeries? It’s too expensive! We can’t afford it.” Really? Is that our answer? Why isn’t our answer, “health care should cost less; our morality means something more than our net worth! Shouldn’t we WANT everyone to have healthcare and have their needs met? Wouldn’t we want THEM to do the same for US? And why aren’t we working hardest to solve these problems!

Faith COSTS US SOMETHING! To believe Jesus is the Messiah forces us to deal with a reality of life that is more than just ourselves. We would do well to remember that the first two questions God ASKS of human beings are these: “Man, where are you?” And, “Where is your brother—what have you done to your brother.” In the aftermath of “be fruitful and multiply” and “have dominion over all of creation” comes the reality of human cruelty. And it’s into this reality that God sends us the Christ.

But it’s not hard to understand why human beings—not just the Jewish folk around the Temple with Jesus, but even ourselves—would be resistant to this new and special reign of God. To live like God in Christ COSTS us something.

I imagine for the Jewish leaders at the Temple that even if they could believe that Jesus was the messiah, the costs of that “believing” were perceived to have been too high. If Jesus is the Messiah, it would have turned their world upside down. They would be removed from power; they would be incorporated into a necessary rebellion—by their actions. It would have cost them their jobs, their families, their security—probably even their lives. What seems amiss, is that we blithely ask them to make such a sacrifice, without seeing the same mandate for ourselves.

WE somehow find it possible that our believing in Jesus doesn’t threaten life, family, job-security, or standing in the community. But it’s not true. We have the privilege of living in one of the most powerful nations on the globe—and quite possibly one of the most unjust. Our cultural concern for “self” often fundamentally obliterates not only the concern for others, but the rights others may have toward meeting their own needs. Healthcare is still a good example. We are told to believe the cost is too high; our perception is pushed and changed, so that we’re convinced it would be “cheaper” if we don’t have to cover people who have unhealthy lifestyles (those who smoke, those who don’t exercise, those who eat too much at McDonalds or other fast-food places). Is it right to save a few dollars for our own pocketbooks at the expense of other people being sick? Because plenty of hard-working decent people these days don’t have healthcare and they’re not the unhealthy types—they can’t afford to be.

While we may believe that because it’s true that most of us don’t rob banks, kill other people, or have sexual affairs; we should think we’ve done pretty well with the commandments—that because we’ve tried to live what we might describe as “good and honorable lives,” we don’t have to answer to the larger concerns of humanity’s ill-treatment of the world and human beings. Even though we’ve tried to keep to ourselves and tried to help in ways that we could, what Jesus calls us to do is to proclaim the gospel and live out the life he shows to us. Because I’m absolutely certain, that the people at the Temple whom we think can’t or won’t believe in Jesus probably could have said the same things about themselves that we think about ourselves. They, too, thought they were doing right and living justly.

So when we consider what it means for us to put our faith in Jesus Christ, our believing that Jesus is the Messiah needs to be demonstrated BEYOND just the affirmation of faith in worship on Sunday mornings. We need to become people who are known for our association with Jesus—despite the costs. The works we do, should testify to the living Christ. As Jesus says to the Jews, “the works I do in my father’s name testify to me. …my sheep hear my voice, and they follow me.” The claims of the gospel should be our claims too. And if they are, our lives have to demonstrate them. Maybe even at great cost. Elias Chacour says, “If you want peace, you have to pay for it… often with your own blood.”

As people who claim the resurrected life of Jesus for ourselves, what we do and make in the world is not insignificant. WE have the advantage. WE BELIEVE Jesus is the Messiah. We don’t have to fret about it, we don’t have to try and figure that out. We know and are convinced. YET, what remains are lives that demonstrate that BELIEF every day—beyond the platitudes.

But here’s the thing. We think too often as Westernized Christians that once we commit ourselves to believing in Jesus as the Messiah, we’re assured a good outcome—that because of our faith “we can’t be snatched out of the savior’s hands.” That our place in heaven is uncompromisable. But I don’t believe that’s what John was trying to teach us.

Instead, John demonstrates for us that if Christians are convinced that Jesus is the Messiah, WHAT’S STOPPING US FROM LIVING ACCORDING TO THE MESSIAH’S WAYS? All the “costs” can be worked out. The worst thing that can happen to you is that you’ll die; but the resurrection of Jesus means that death is never the last word. Worst case, you die…. I don’t want to make light of dying for our faith, but I’m just saying that John’s intent seems to be to convince believers and followers that part of the Kingdom of God is up to us. We have to help God make it happen. We have to work with God—because we believe.

So “believing” isn’t ever just a way of getting ourselves to heaven. Believing is a way of transforming the world in the ways of Jesus Christ. It’s a way of giving up our fetters, for us to be unbound by the world, and instead, to demonstrate the full life of the Kingdom of God in all its glory—in us, through us, and among us.

--+ Christ is risen - indeed! AMEN

Link to the audio file and other materials from my Sermon on Sunday, April 18, 2010

This morning we had a special power-point presentation for the sermon.  Since our congregation doesn't have a projector, we had to borrow one from our Presbytery's Office.  We did that. 

So this week, there's a link to the Audio File, for the sermon as recorded during worship; AND, there are two additional links for the powerpoint.  The powerpoint files include the sermon notes I used to preach from.  If you click on the powerpoint files, you can "view" them, but you have to download them in order to see the slides with the sermon manuscript notes. 

Here's the link to the audio file:  http://www.box.net/shared/dmmc7y6nrq


Here are the links to the powerpoint slides (with notes if you download them)
Link to powerpoint part 1:  http://www.box.net/shared/vh21jqi2qg
Link to powerpoint part 2:  http://www.box.net/shared/dr1d8980k8


As always, thanks for checking it out.

The Audio Link and Manuscript for my sermon from Sunday, April 11th

April 11th was the SECOND Sunday of Easter.  Easter is the longest special Season in the liturgical season and covers the 50 days or 7 weeks until Pentecost.  So, we are still celebrating Jesus' resurrection! 

The audio file for my sermon recorded on Sunday, April 11, 2010 can be downloaded using the following link:  http://www.box.net/shared/n6vyfcpyk8. 



The sermon manuscript appears below: 



The Second Sunday of Easter; April 11, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Acts 5: 27-32
Psalm 118: 14-29 or Psalm 150
Revelation 1: 4-8
John 20: 19-31 *

“Jesus is Raised. …Now what?”

--} “Jesus is raised. …Now what?” That’s really the question the gospel writers try and answer for us, isn’t it?

I’m going to begin this morning with a couple of observations about John’s text in today’s gospel reading.

First, we should take notice that FEAR is important to understanding the resurrection of Jesus. John tells us that on the night the resurrection is discovered, the disciples have gathered, with “the doors locked for fear of the Jews.” Sometimes we’ve gotten in the habit of believing that the “locked doors” Jesus has to navigate to get to the disciples somehow “proves” his resurrection is valid—but in fact, the doors are locked because the disciples are afraid. They’re afraid because the religious authorities were out to get them as much as they were Jesus; and because dead people don’t just come back from the dead! A week later and having already witnessed Jesus alive, the disciples again show up, and again the doors are locked—they’re still AFRAID!—even when they know Jesus is alive.

Contrast that with you and I who find great JOY in the news of the resurrection and we aren’t the least bit afraid! Shouldn’t we be?

Second, “Doubting Thomas” almost always gets a bad rap. We would do well to believe the Bible’s testimony that Thomas “saw” or experienced nothing more than the other disciples got to experience and witness for themselves. Yet, BECAUSE of Thomas, we have a second—and what must have surely been an “unexpected”—visit from a “resurrected” Jesus. We have it “demonstrated” again that truly Jesus was the one who appeared to the disciples a week earlier, and not some kind of imposter or body double. We often discount that “doubt” and “fear” are a part of every gospel-writer’s account of Jesus’ resurrection. Mark, telling us that the women were amazed and terrified and they didn’t tell anyone anything. Matthew, reminding us that when the disciples are together with the resurrected Jesus on the mountain, that they worship him “but some still doubted.” Luke, informing us that the disciples were all “terrified” when he stood among them and that they thought they were seeing a ghost! Is John’s story about Thomas really that much different from everyone else’s?

But it is different from our telling and often from our experience, isn’t it? In the wake of the resurrection, “doubt” seems—well… “normal.” Quite the contrast to Christians today, who often think it is unconscionable that anyone would have “doubts” about the resurrection. And yet, even in the face of “believing” in the resurrection, we often forget how important it is for us to not get caught up in the resurrection being “true” or by the promise of our getting to go to heaven; but instead, to keep alive the witness of Jesus. That seems to be the challenge the gospel writers are pointing us toward. Not just believing in the resurrection, but keeping alive the witness of Jesus!


John’s gospel tells us in verse 29: “Jesus said to Thomas, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe’.” Here may be why. It’s widely believed that John’s gospel was written “last,” at the very end of the 1st Century. This is significant because by then, it’s likely that all of the “eyewitnesses” to Jesus’ death and resurrection would have died. By then, no one was left who could say, “I saw Jesus in the days after his resurrection,”—people like Thomas and the other disciples who could literally “testify” that Jesus was raised. The community for whom John’s gospel was written was going to be made up of folks who could not ever “see Jesus” and “believe” in the same sort of way. They were people who were going to have to “believe” not having seen the signs or having the visible, eyewitness testimony. John is writing to the first generation of believers who would need to speak to people saying, “I believe Jesus is raised,” but for all practical purposes, would have no “verifiable proof.”

For that first generation of believers beyond the testimony of eyewitnesses as well as for ourselves, it’s important that we remember we are not simply called to be about “proving” that Jesus was “resurrected” some 2,000 years ago, “just as the Bible says.” Instead, we’re called to give witness to what the Bible teaches: that “Jesus is alive” now just as much as he was then; but “resurrection” means more than an event of history. When we say, “Christ is risen,” we mean more than a date or a memory—we speak of reality.

Even when the disciples told Thomas, “We have seen the Lord,” do you think they meant, “we saw him die, then we saw him alive, ain’t it great!” Do you believe it was simply a matter of “proving” once and for all that dead people can be raised? Didn’t Jesus raising of Lazarus do that? But if Jesus is alive…, isn’t it true that his claims are still alive and true! And that probably means there’s something in it for us. Not just something for us to “believe,” but something for us to DO?

We often think the resurrection is about Jesus being raised—in fact; and we like to believe because of “resurrection” we are bound for heaven—in fact. But these concerns aren’t really the focus of the gospel writers. In a new book, New Testament scholar N.T. Wright offers some sage advice about the meaning of the resurrection in the gospel stories. Wright points out that none of the GOSPELS talks about the resurrection meaning anything related to what we might call “an assurance of heaven” or an “afterlife.” The gospel writers weren’t concerned with what happens to us when we die. And while we’re often used to affirming that “Jesus died for our sins …so that we can go straight to heaven,” this is not an emphasis of the gospel stories. And for us to really understand the resurrection, such claims need to be better understood.

In the New Testament, it’s Paul who introduces us to the idea of “life after death.” Yet, that we know of, Paul never met Jesus prior to the resurrection. But Paul, writing and preaching to new believers BEFORE any of the gospels were written, teaches that as surely as Jesus dies, we are buried with him in baptism, and that as surely as Jesus is raised, we are raised with him in new life. And most of the time, most of us are willing to stop there. “Good,” we think. Jesus’ resurrection means we get to go to heaven—isn’t that “good news”? But just like the question of resurrection as a singular historical moment, doesn’t the resurrection mean MORE than just the promise of life after death?

This is precisely what the gospels try to indicate for us. If you accept already that there’s life after death, the gospel stories push us in a radical new direction for how we live our lives. If we don’t have to worry about death or dying being the last word or our final destination, what we “DO” with THIS LIFE that we’ve been given seems far more important than simply convincing ourselves that there’s a life to come. And suddenly, Jesus’ resurrection can move us from a doctrine the church “believes” to the reality of what Christians are called to be “DOING” in the world, because we know the truth of the phrase, “Christ is risen!”


So when John tells us about Jesus’ appearances with his disciples, the POINT is more than life after death. We can’t miss that John’s story takes place “behind locked doors” where the disciples are afraid. While Jesus says three times, “peace,” the disciples won’t immediately follow. And “peace” becomes key when Jesus offers believers a commissioning: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And, having breathed on them, Jesus says to them and us, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” The truly scary part of the resurrection for us may be that according to the Biblical facts the resurrection doesn’t seem to be just a particular promise about heaven, it’s a commissioning to continue Jesus’ witness! Jesus being alive lends NEW MEANING to our life as FOLLOWERS. Which is maybe why the Book of Acts tells us that shortly after his resurrection, the disciples are teaching in his name! Flaunting the power of the religious authorities.

Both for the disciples and for people like us, the story of Jesus’ life and ministry, death and resurrection, means that every encounter we have with others has the potential for us to help or hurt them, to forgive sins or retain them. It means that our “faith” has consequences beyond heaven and hell. “Believing” the resurrection stories of Jesus, not only teaches us that Jesus is alive, they proclaim a ministry and mission for believers and followers that Jesus intends to enable. Freed from the threat of an “end” in death or dying, the gospel stories promise opportunities to continue Jesus’ ministry and mission between now and then.

Back in John chapter 11, before Jesus raises Lazarus, Jesus says to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” And once again, the temptation is for us to rush ahead to the “never dying” part, tempted to think of Heaven and a particular afterlife we envision. But when Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life…,” in the present tense, surely he intends for believers and followers what he says. So that Jesus’ “resurrection” is primarily about a way of living—not just for them but for us!

If Jesus’ resurrection assures us that death is not the last word or our final destination, are we not truly “free” to live in this life? Even in the face of persecution, domination, violence, disease, misfortune; even in the face of joy, wealth, satisfaction, justice and righteousness? Jesus’ resurrection frees us in any moment—in every moment—to not only confess, “my Lord and my God,” but also to use our moments to recreate Jesus’ ministry and mission. So that Jesus is alive not only in the sense of having been raised from the dead, but that he is alive in us—in our actions, in our working, in our faithfulness to Jesus’ ways.

Or, as Daniel Ingram wrote this week in an online devotional about “how” we believe in the resurrection: “we believe that Jesus is alive because of the great joy that comes from knowing him. When we share that joy with others, the story of Jesus’ resurrection continues through us. Jesus is alive when we share the good news of forgiveness. Jesus is alive when we worship, sing and pray. Jesus is alive when we make friends. Jesus is alive when we help others. Jesus is alive!”

So it’s more than believing in an historical event, or a moment when Jesus appears, the resurrection of Jesus invites us to continue to believe in and act upon the witness of the living Christ. In fact, that’s what I believe the original commissioning for the disciples was all about—to believe that they, too, had in fact been sent by God; commissioned so that they too could act in the ways of Jesus. And, if John’s testimony about resurrection frees us from a concern about dying, shouldn’t it really inspire our living? I believe it must.


--+ Christ is risen - indeed! AMEN.




* Special thanks to my Lectionary Study Group pals who offered a lot of the inspiration for the direction of this sermon.  Our study group meets on Tuesday mornings in the conference room at the offices of the Presbytery of Des Moines, where we're famous for the questions: "What are you going to preach about?"  "I don't know--it's only Tuesday!"  And, "Where are we going to eat for lunch."  And in between happens a lot of great discussion, wrangling, and seed-planting about the lections for the next Sunday and their various meanings interpretations. 

Easter Sunday--the link to the audio file for my sermon from Sunday, April 4, 2010

Today is Easter Sunday, when the Church celebrates the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

You can hear the audio recording of my sermon from this morning's worship service by clicking on this link and downloading it. 

http://www.box.net/shared/5btv7nx4ck


Worship was such a joy this morning, that this preacher couldn't stick with the text as prepared.  Being so much more "off" the manuscript than with it, I don't have a manuscript prepared yet for this sermon.  I may add one in the coming days if you wish to look for it later--or perhaps, like Jesus, the tomb (or the blog) will remain "empty."  a

Here are a couple of pictures from Jerusalem's Garden Tomb from my pilgrimage last fall: 

Though we are want to go and see... he is not here. 

He is risen! 

Link to the audio file for my sermon from Maundy Thursday, April 01, 2010

Here's the link to the audio file for my sermon preached and recorded on Maundy Thursday, April 1st, 2010.  This is no April Fool's joke! 

You can listen to the sermon by clicking this file and then downloading:

http://www.box.net/shared/azf8uombar



The manuscript for the sermon follows here:


Maundy Thursday; April 01, 2010
Park Avenue Presbyterian Church; Des Moines, Iowa
Texts: Exodus 12: 1-14
Psalm 116: 1-2, 12-19
1 Corinthians 11: 23-26
John 13: 1-17, 31b-35

“The ‘Traditional,’ “Love one another”.”

--} Tonight begins with “tradition” in one form or another. Many church traditions start with the story that many readers of Matthew, Mark, and Luke’s gospels refer to as the “Last Supper.” That’s the story of the institution of the Lord’s Supper—on the night of Jesus’ arrest, he took the bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to his disciples….

The other tradition, from which Maundy Thursday takes its name, is the story from John’s gospel—where Jesus takes off his outer clothes, wraps a towel around his waist, washes the disciples’ feet, offering them “a new commandment”—“love one another.” “Maundy” taken from the word meaning, mandate—“mandate” referring to Jesus’ command.

As modern Christians, we’re not used to having to “choose” one bible story or the another; we often have them squished together for us into one easily discernable form. But, in fact, church tradition gives us BOTH stories—two traditions; and the part that’s most interesting to me is that John’s gospel doesn’t have any story about an “institution” of our familiar “Last or Lord’s Supper.” If we were to read John’s story in isolation, tonight would be a much different experience for us—where we’d be focused more on what Jesus says for us to “do” rather than “doing” or “reenacting” what the other 3 gospels “say” happened. And I want us to think about that for a few minutes. What if there were no last supper or memorial meal? What if the dinner party ended after Jesus’ act of extreme servant-hood followed by that famous “new commandment,” to “love one another?”

I do want to point out that what Jesus DOES in John’s story is a radical act that made his disciples uncomfortable, and should make us uncomfortable, too. First, only the wealthiest of households typically had slaves who would wash people’s feet. Jesus and his disciples didn’t fit that description. Further, Jesus puts himself—the teacher and leader—in the place of the lowest person in the room; inviting the disciples (and us, it seems) to a similar social position. And the mandate is not just to “serve,” but to “love”—as Jesus demonstrates. Jesus does seem to aim at followers putting aside social status and comfortability. And to do so makes this night a radical calling to meet other’s needs rather than our own.

Sometimes—I think we treat the Lord’s Supper as an act for our own comfortability. We declare it a special table (only at church), reserved for only special people (believers) and it can happen only in this serene, meditative environment. So cleansed from the outside world, we celebrate and remember Jesus and his death and resurrection—helping us to feel good, primarily about ourselves (since we don’t typically encounter others). It seldom is interpreted as a call to service.

But in John’s story, any “institution” of a “Lord’s Supper” is absent—missing. What scholars suggest that the closest John’s gospel comes to a “Lord’s Supper” is not the night before Jesus died—not at all; rather, it’s the day Jesus breaks the bread and fish beside the Sea of Galilee for at least 5,000 people to eat a meal and be filled. Yet even without a so-called “last supper” or formalized “Lord’s Supper,” it should be no surprise to us that LOVING is also about “feeding.” One of John’s unique stories is of Jesus asking Peter three times, “do you love me,” and Peter answering three times, “yes;” and Jesus’ follow-up is “feed my sheep,” “tend my lambs,” “feed my sheep.”

The feeding of the 5,000 is a much different story as a vision of a “Lord’s Supper.” John tries to tell us that Jesus is like the “manna” that comes down from heaven to give life to the world—reminiscent of the Israelites’ experience in the wilderness. “Manna” is not the bread of Passover—or unleavened bread. Passover bread is human-made bread; it belongs to the earth and to us as creatures. But it’s different from “manna” because “manna” is the bread that belongs to and comes only from God. “Manna” is reminiscent of Jesus’ statement, “human beings do not live by bread alone.” “Manna” is entirely God-provided; and to share it, to be fed by it means to live relying on God’s ability to love and deliver us and provide for all our needs—especially in the valley of the shadow of death.

John’s gospel almost deliberately distinguishes between Passover-bread and “manna”-bread; forging a distinction between a “Lord’s Supper” (what we call “communion”) and God-provided meals. One of my pet peeves is that we call it the “Last Supper” as if it were the “only Supper”—or the only supper that really matters. The other, is that we distinguish “this table” that we share at church from every other table that we share—as if this one has more meaning than the tables we use for “daily bread.” The Lord’s Prayer teaches us to pray, “give us this day our daily bread,” a reminder of God-provided bread in the wilderness that provided daily sustenance.

So, what could happen if we began to see AGAIN that every meal were sacred, reminding us to “remember”—not just one particular meal, but the power of what Jesus said and taught and how he lived, every day?

What John tells us about that day in Galilee was that people were hungry, and there were no means by which to feed everyone. Some commentators laud the reality that everyone would have carried a small supply of food for themselves, the “bread for tomorrow,” and that what must have happened was a “miracle of sharing,” where everyone suddenly broke out their small provision and shared with one another—enough for all to be fed with leftovers. But this seems, as John tells it, like “bread of the world”—human provided, human made. The other way of understanding Jesus’ act is to require us to see it entirely as God-provided—“manna bread”—that comes straight out of heaven to nourish and sustain. I believe John intends to tell us that this feeding of the 5,000 was a wholly other meal, by which God promises us, “human beings do not live by bread alone” and only God can sustain us completely.

In tonight’s gospel lesson, Jesus seems to say, “If you love me, you’ll do as I do.” He’s referring to his radical servant-role to be sure; but he’s also referring to all the things he said and taught along the way. He’s telling us about the meals, too—and there were plenty! Plenty of times when Jesus sat at table with friends and others and “ate.” I think about the places that you and I “eat,” and can’t help but believe that Jesus and his friends and others “ate” similarly, too—both bread of the world and the sustenance of God.

I think about our great family celebrations—Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter—and know they most often take place around food and tables.

I think about “loving the least of these,” and reckon the advertisements for the DMARC food pantry and Door of Faith and soup kitchens everywhere, speak to the powerful hope that is found in “breaking bread.” And then I think about John’s story and wonder….

There’s Jesus, not talking fancifully about bread and body, but taking the role of a slave and washing feet.

There’s Jesus, not just saying, “remember me,” but instead, taking food from the kitchen and spreading it before them, “feeding them,” and inviting them into a similar ministry.

There’s Jesus, hoping that we don’t just build a ritual which we can celebrate over and over in order to feel special, but a means by which tending to other’s needs can be made “special.”

And I think about John’s story and wonder… what did Jesus really have in mind?



Many of you know that last fall I had the privilege of taking a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. And one of the places I most wanted to see was a place called Tabgha—the traditional “location” for the miracle of the loaves and fishes. I marvel at John’s description of Jesus inviting the crowds to sit down on the grass, then breaking the bread and fish and having them distributed—kind of like a Hy-Vee catered picnic or something. I imagined seeing that “place” and dipping my toes in the grass with a view of the Sea of Galilee. Well, it didn’t happen. Much to my surprise, you get off the bus in a parking lot, choking on the diesel fumes of 30-50 other busses, get herded into a modern church (built in 1964) to see a famous mosaic that dates back to the 4th century, to which you can’t get close enough to in order to take a good picture—and in a few minutes you’re back on the bus. There’s no “green grass” to dip your toes in, not even a view of the Sea of Galilee—I still have to use my imagination.

I lamented not getting to see the “place” where the loaves and fishes may have been broken and served. But then something extraordinary happened; I began to see the “bread” and “fish” both in human-provided ways and in God-provided ways. I found them literally on the lunch table when we had “loaves and fish.” I found them in compelling stories where people were being fed or sustained. I found them in the ways God was providing for me on the pilgrimage, and I related them directly to the ways that I know God feeds us from heaven every single day.

Several days later, one of the other places we visited was a school that had it’s beginnings in a church’s simple summer program. What began as something akin to what we would call vacation bible school eventually developed into a full-time school, where children who are Jewish, Christian, and Muslim all study and attend classes together as “people of faith” without having to deny one another’s humanity. But that first summer, such an idea was “new” and when the children from the community were invited, so many showed up that they didn’t have food enough to feed them—kind of like Jesus on that hillside. The Church leader had to go into the community to beg food from families that already didn’t have enough to feed themselves, let alone provide for others. And I suppose, in a manner not unlike that of Jesus—the food happened.

Several years later, the children of this one-time “summer program” would design murals to decorate the walls of their school—stories of their faith; and one of the murals they made was a “re-creation” of that 4th Century mosaic I had longed to get a picture of at Tabgha—but couldn’t. The school children’s recreation is the picture that appears on the long paper in your bulletin tonight, a piece of paper that I hope you will take and use as a placemat at a meal for you and someone else. A meal by which you can be reminded not of “A” meal or “THE” meal, but reminded nonetheless that God feeds us every single day—and on the basis of that “love” from God, we are called to go out and “love one another.”

Because tonight’s bigger tradition that we celebrate is that the love of God in Jesus goes out from the table to love the whole world—sustaining it not with bread alone but the unfathomable, salvific work of Love. And we, too, are called to serve likewise.


--+ AMEN.