That's Where You Are: July 28, 2024

Year B, Pentecost 10                                John 6:1-21                                                                                                                        

On occasion I like to do a first person narrative as a sermon.  That means I wrote this from the perspective of someone in the Gospel story. Most of what I am saying is based on the text, but some is what I imagine the feelings of one of the disciples would be, so take that for what it’s worth.

I told the others we should have waited for him.  We should never have gotten in the boat without him.  But Peter said we should.  Peter said that he probably wanted to be alone after feeding 5000 people…I mean, who wouldn’t want a breather after that? And you know Peter, he’s never wrong. Man is he stubborn. 

I was worried.  That crowd was intense.  They were grateful for the food.  Of course they were. But they wanted more from Jesus.  They wanted him to be king.  Jesus doesn’t want to be a king, at least not the kind of king they were looking for.  He has been clear about that all along.  I thought he might need a little protection.  What if those people followed him and took him away.  People want so many different things from Jesus. It seems to me that he’s always being pulled in different directions.  Everyone wants something from him.

Andrew said that Jesus could handle himself. He did just feel 5000 people with 5 loaves and 2 fish.  He would be fine.  It still felt wrong just to leave him.  I guess if I am honest, and I try to be most of the time, I really didn’t want to be without him.  Especially in the dark.  I have always hated being in a boat in the dark.  Bad things happen in the dark.  Everyone knows that storms came out of nowhere on the Sea of Galilee.  I think the others wanted to prove that they didn’t need him. I mean, we are adults.  We should be able to get in a boat without him. It’s just once you have been around Jesus, you don’t want to not be around him.  It’s like the dark is darker when he’s not there.  I know that sounds crazy.  But you know Peter, he’s never wrong, until he is.

            So I got in the boat with the others.   They had enough people rowing so I curled up in the corner hoping to get some sleep, hoping that when I woke up it would be morning and Jesus would be back with us.  As soon as that first drop of rain fell, I knew that we were in for a bad one.  I sat up and looked around me—I could not see land anywhere. We must have been miles from shore, which is a bad place to be in a storm.  Soon the rain was coming down so hard we could barely see.  That would have been ok except for the wind. The wind was the worst part.  It kept rocking the boat back and forth. The others were scared but I was the only one who was panicking. I yelled, “I told you that we should not have left without him.” They could barely hear me.  “We’ll be fine,” Peter shouted. “We’ve seen this before.  It will pass.”

            It didn’t.  It might have only been minutes, but it felt like hours to me.  We should never have left without him.  I started praying.  I should have been praying the whole time and maybe I was, but now I was praying out loud.  I was straining to see the shore in any direction.  If I could just see the shore, I would be ok.  It looked like something was moving.  Could it be another boat?  Could there be others as foolish as we were to be out in the middle of the night? It wasn’t a boat.  It looked like a person.  I thought I might be going crazy. Then I saw the others looking. They had all dropped their oars and were staring.  It was a person.  It was like he was walking on water, but that’s impossible.  I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out. I looked around to see if I was the only one who was afraid.  I wasn’t.  Peter was pointing and he kept opening and closing his mouth, like he was trying to speak but could not form the words. That was when I was really afraid because Peter is never speechless.  Never.

            I heard Thomas whisper, “It’s him.  It’s Jesus.”  He was right.  He was there, walking on the water with the storm raging around him. His clothes were soaked just like ours, but he was still above the water.  I thought, no it can’t be. Then he spoke. Despite the wind and the rain, I heard it clearly.  “It is I, do not be afraid.” I would like to say that I stopped being afraid, but I didn’t.  It just didn’t make sense. And what was he saying? Those are the words that only God can speak, “I am.”

As a good Jew, I knew that was God’s name. That was almost as scary as the image of him walking across water.  I begged him to get in the boat.  Everyone tried to get him in the boat.  It’s not that I was worried about him. He was fine.  I just needed him in the boat with us. I needed his presence.  I wanted to know that he wouldn’t leave.  If he got in our boat, then everything would be ok.  He refused. I guess if you can walk on water you don’t need a boat.

            Suddenly we were on shore.  It’s not that the boat sped up, it was more like the land just moved closer. The rain turned into a drizzle.  I turned to him and told him I was sorry that we had left him.  He just patted me on the shoulder and walked on.  I called after him and asked, “Why do you ever go in a boat if you can walk on water.” He turned and smiled, “Because that is where you are.”

What once was small is now great: July 26, 2015

Year B, Pentecost 9                                                             

John 6:1-21                                                                            

            I suspect that most of us have prayed for a miracle at one point in our life.  Sometimes the prayer was answered with that miracle, sometimes we don’t see the miracle.  Of course all of us define miracles differently.  The most common way that we hear miracle described is a transgression of the laws of nature.  It is when something happens that cannot be explained with a rational explanation.  Our faith and our Bible are full of miracles.  Over the years, people have tried to come up with explanations for many of these miracles.  When Moses divided the Red Sea, it was actually the Reed Sea, which is much narrower and at a certain point of the year the Reed Sea is shallow, allowing for easy crossing.   Another theory is that it was the Red Sea but that there was a powerful wind that exposed a reef which the Israelites then crossed. 

            Jesus performed many miracles during his time on earth, things that could not be explained, things that were simply extraordinary.  For every miracle he performed, there are many people who have tried to provide rational explanations.  Consider the Gospel reading for today.  Jesus fed more than 5000 people with five loaves and two fish.  The traditional understanding is that he multiplied the loaves and the fish.  Perhaps the baskets were just bottomless baskets and the bread and the fish never ran out because no matter how much bread was given, the basket was always full.  We don’t know because John doesn’t say how so many were fed with so little, he just says that they were fed until they were satisfied.  The rational explanation is that all of these people actually had bread and fish with them.  It wasn’t like they were carrying around raw fish.  Many people would carry pickled fish when they were travelling. When they saw Jesus giving thanks for what he had, they took what they had and shared.  While this explanation does not defy the laws of nature, it still feels like a miracle to me.

            Every Gospel tells this miracle story.  It is the only miracle story that is described by all four Gospel writers.  They don’t all agree on the particulars.  This is not unusual.  We know that the Gospel writers were all writing at different times with different perspectives.  It is perfectly understandable that they would have different details in their stories.  One of the unique features of John’s version of this story is the boy who brings forward the 5 loaves and 2 fish.  He is not in the other Gospels.

We don’t know if he came up on his own, but Andrew announced that there was a boy and he had food.   You would think that the disciples had some food as we;;. They were pretty much nomads and they probably carried food with them.  Yet none of them pulled out their supply to share.  It was a boy from the crowd.

            I wonder about this boy.  Why did he come to the disciples with his meager offering?  How did he even know that food was needed?  We don’t know, but I have a theory. Perhaps this boy was in the front of the crowd sitting with his parents, watching Jesus with rapt attention.  The boy saw Jesus scanning the crowd with a look of concern on his face.  He saw him talk to his disciples, even saw the disciples trying to convince Jesus to turn the crowd away.  He saw all this and thought to himself, “I bet they are hungry and here I have 5 loaves and 2 fish.  It’s not much, but it’s something.”  He argued with his parents because they didn’t want him to give up their food, maybe the only food they had to sustain them for the day.  They tried to stop him saying that Jesus surely had his own food.  He was a great prophet and a miracle worker.  If he wanted food, he could make it appear out of thin air.  What use was their small offering to this great man? 

But the boy presented the food anyways because he had it and he wanted to contribute in some way to the ministry of this great man.  Maybe he was afraid that that Jesus and the disciples would scoff.  Barley bread was the food of the poor.  They could turn up their noses at him.  It was worth the risk.  So he brought his offering forward, shyly, hesitantly and he pulled on the sleeve of one of the men who was standing close to Jesus.   The man was about to turn the boy away, but then the boy saw something in his eyes, a spark of something he could not describe.  Then the man knelt down and he thanked him and brought him to Jesus saying, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish.” Then Andrew hesitated as if he was second guessing himself.  He added, “But what are they among so many people?” Then the boy knew that this was not just for Jesus and his friends, it was for everyone.  He felt even more foolish, but then Jesus looked down at him and he accepted the bread and fish as though it was precious to him and he thanked him and told him to go sit down.  Then the boy saw Jesus held up the bread that he had given him and gave God thanks.  Baskets were passed and the baskets were full of the bread he brought forward, but there was more, so much more.  What was once little is now great.  His small offering was transformed by Jesus.

            Part of that narrative is my musings, but the end is the Gospel truth.  Jesus took a small offering and he made it great. He shared it with thousands.  How the bread multiplied is not important, but the way it was presented is critical.  We pray for miracles.  We beg for miracles. We wait for miracles.  What we don’t realize is that Jesus is waiting for us too.  Jesus has the power, but he has given us the materials needed for the miracle. He is waiting for us to present those small gifts.  Sometimes the gifts are material things.  Sometimes the gift is who we are as children of God.  Because we live in a time where we worry that we will never have enough, enough time, enough money, enough strength…we hold back on what we share with God.  We think that an hour a week is all that God wants.  But God wants all of us, even when we think that all of us is not good enough.  So I ask that you consider what it is that you have to give and you take one of the index cards at the end of the pew and you write it down.  Then when the plate is passed, you add that offering to the plate as a promise to God of what you will share.  Because no matter how small the gift that you present, God will transform it.  God will multiply it.  What once was meager, what once was small and insignificant is now great.  Each of us carries the materials for a miracle.  Don’t wait for a miracle, start it.