July 28, 2024
The Reverend Kathleen Killian
Proper 12B/24
Psalm 145:10-19
Ephesians 3:14-21
John 6:1-21
Got Miracle?
This Sunday’s gospel is the first of five consecutive Sunday readings of Eucharistic themes from the Gospel of John. In other words, over the coming weeks we will be hearing a lot about bread! As it would be, this our main meal concludes on what will be Fr. John’s and my last Sunday at Christ Church, as our ministry with you reaches its own conclusion. What more appropriate way for us to focus these last Sunday’s together than by contemplating Jesus as “the bread of life” and our communion with the Lord and each other.
Today’s feeding of the five thousand is the only miracle story recorded in all four gospels; and the account of Jesus walking on the sea that follows it is also recorded in all the gospels except for Luke. These two stories and their coupling were clearly of import to the early church and generations hence still warrant our careful attention.
The crowd following Jesus had already seen and heard of the miracles that he had performed and they are hungry for another miracle or sign; and indeed they get one. The text is not definitive as to whether the miracle is a supernatural act on Jesus’ part or a natural act on the crowd’s part in generously sharing what food they had, but what is evident is that everyone’s hunger is satisfied by Jesus—by his words, his compassion, his presence, his teaching, his blessing—so much so that there are leftovers—twelve baskets full—another “sign” of the kingdom of God where “leftovers”, whether they are people or food, are neither unimportant or cast aside.
The crowd is so satisfied, they want to usurp Jesus and make him their king. But Jesus slips away. Notice too, that neither does Jesus get into the boat with the disciples as they wanted him to when they are caught in a storm. Though they are brought safely to shore, and the crowds are fed, the miracles and the signs are not finally about getting what we want but about Jesus and who he is.
When I look out at the congregation, when I look into my own heart, I see the crowd and I see the disciples and all of the needs and desires we have. Like the crowd, we hunger too; like the disciples, we also cry out in the storm. Our own personal needs and the needs of the world are so great as to be paralyzing. Resources are limited and there is not enough. But Jesus did not feed the people with nothing. He didn’t work a miracle from scratch but started with what was already available—five loaves of bread and two fish. He brought the disciples safely ashore after they had already rowed some three to four miles and were nearly there; after calling out to them: It is I, do not be afraid, anchoring them in the Word of God. In the hands of Jesus, a little becomes much, and what is needed.
Of equal consideration is that Jesus gives thanks before the feeding the 5000, before feeding the 4000 (Matthew 15:36; Mark 8:6), before he raised Lazarus from the dead (John 11:14), and before breaking bread at the Last Supper (Luke 22:19; In ancient Israel it was the host's responsibility to give thanks before the meal, and Jesus was the host; Jesus is host. Giving thanks before we get what we want—and even afterward when perhaps we don’t— is a way to participate in God’s creative power and purpose, that we find meaning in our lives.
In our epistle reading, Paul knows that he cannot give the congregation at Ephesus what it needs in order to be sustained for the struggles that lie ahead. He knows that the church must learn to rely upon God, and not just upon its own limited resources. Church was not then, or is it now, a DIY do- it-yourself-project. God is already at work in the congregation.
Over the last few months here at Christ Church, from the literal rooftop to the literal basement, from inside its walls to the outside, many repairs and upgrades have been made, even though we never have enough money or manpower. And yet it has happened by grace, and by the parishioners in sharing their time, treasure, and talents. In Jesus’ hands, a little becomes much, and what is needed.
But Paul also prays that the Ephesians will be strengthened from the inside out, in their inner being, through the power of the Father’s Spirit, that Christ may dwell in their hearts by faith. It’s said that a preacher preaches the same message over and over again in so many words, and this was Paul’s message, that of inner transformation and new life in Christ. This is what enabled Paul to preach and pray and write to the Ephesians, the Romans, the Corinthians, the Galatians, the Philippians, the Colossians, and Thessalonians with such faith and encouragement while he himself was imprisoned and under great duress. Despite his outer circumstances, he was strengthened from the inside out. Christ lived within him, as Christ lives within us all.
So along side the never-ending needs of the outside world, we must always ask, as individuals and as a congregation, what is needed on the inside: what repairs and upgrades are needed in our hearts? What faulty thinking is hindering our understanding? Where is the leak that is draining our faith? How do we sustain not only buildings and bodies but our life of prayer? Do we spend time weeding our inner garden? Do we recognize the Gardner working along side us?
What is a given is that letting Christ in will change us. So what’s at question is how much access we will grant the Lord. Is Christ a mere houseguest staying in what room we have to spare, maybe even sleeping on the couch? Or will we invite Jesus to take up residence within us full time and permanently, and give him the keys and codes to come and go as he will? With whole house, whole heart, and whole life dependence upon Christ comes the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. The power at work within us is able to accomplish far more than we can ask or imagine.
CS Lewis wisely said that if we admit God, we necessarily risk a few miracles. The common word for miracle in the New Testament is the Greek dynamis, meaning “ deed of power.” When Jesus walked on water, when he fed the five thousand—when he feeds you and me and the multitudes each and every Sunday—the deed of power is far more than the subjugation of nature: it is enlightened power whose ground is humility and muscle is love. It is the power of Jesus taking the least and the last and the leftovers to transform the world; like the bread, we too are taken, broken, blessed, and given by Jesus to the Father’s purpose and power.
These words of scripture that we heard today and hear every Sunday are a kind of map to a place that is often out of sight, hidden and even buried: the kingdom of God. That this map of words and stories, parables and and teachings leads us to the kingdom requires belief—not a miracle—but a belief in wondrous love, and the trust that reaches past self-sufficiency into deep dependence upon the Word of God itself: Jesus, the bread of Life.
As the psalmist sings:
The Lord is faithful in all his words *
and merciful in all his deeds.
The Lord is righteous in all his ways *
and loving in all his works.
The Lord is near to those who call upon him, *
to all who call upon him faithfully.
So be it, and truly it is, amen, amen.