SERMONS

By Rev. Anthony B. Robinson, Sabbatical Pastor
August 2, 2009

John 6: 24 – 35

You remember the popular radio guy whose trademark was, “And now for the rest of the story”? Often in the Bible we get an event, a decisive moment, a healing or a miracle and then before we know it the story has moved on. We’re on to the next town, next event, next characters. You’re left wondering, what happened next? Did Martha and Mary work it out? Did newly seeing Bartimaeus follow? What happened finally with the man and his two very different sons, the elder brother and the prodigal?

In John it’s a little different. You often get “The rest of the story,” or at least, more of the story. And that’s true here in John 6. This chapter began, as we heard last week, with the feeding of the 5,000. But rather than being the climax or conclusion the feeding of 5,000 people with five loaves and two fish, is more the opening. The remainder of John 6 gives us, “The rest of the story.” Now Jesus and a series of people will wrestle with the meaning of the miracle.

Jesus’ own understanding of the meaning is laid out in the last verse of today’s reading, “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, whoever believes in me will never thirst.”

There is one thing I’ve always wondered about this: what happened to the fish? Remember? Five loaves, two fish. “I am the Bread of Life.” What happened to the fish? Well, okay, I guess “I am the Fish of Life” just doesn’t have quite the same appeal. Probably it was a marketing decision.

So, now we begin to get the rest of the story, and as the saying goes, “The plot thickens” as Jesus engages the crowd that he had fed the previous day.
And the way this unfolds, this conversation between Jesus and the crowd, may come as something of a surprise. I think we’re kind of conditioned to the idea that Jesus will always be nice, always caring, and super-compassionate. He’ll see a crowd and just begin to ooze compassion.

Listen to how this goes. “So when the crowd saw that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they themselves got into the boats and went to Capernaum looking for Jesus. When they found him on the other side of the sea, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the bread.”

Well, great, nice to see you too!

They go to no small effort to cross the Sea of Galilee and to find Jesus and how does he greet them? Does he say, “Oh my dear friends, you’ve come such a long way, you must be tired. Come to me all you who are weary.” No, sorry, that’s a different gospel. Not here, not in John. Here it’s, “Here you are again, wanting more bread. But you don’t get it do you?”

Wow, what’s up with that? Jesus on a bad day? Listen to what he is saying. “You are looking for me not because you saw the sign, but because you ate your fill of the bread.” There is a time for compassion, a time for caring. But in saying this Jesus gives them something else. He gives them a challenge. And there is also a time for a challenge.

Unless I have mis-read it, it seems that in many areas of life today we endeavor to meet people’s needs, satisfy their demands, address their concerns. “You’re hungry–let me feed you.” “You hurting–we will comfort you.” “You’re upset–let’s fix it for you.” Now, clearly, there’s a place for this. But what about the other side of the coin? Is there a time and a place for a challenge?

Apparently Jesus thought there was, and here in John 6 and in conversation with the crowd is just such a time. So Jesus says, “You’re chasing after me not because you really saw the sign, but just because you ate your fill of the bread.” In saying this to them Jesus is saying that relationship with him is not a one way thing, with us being like baby birds waiting in the nest with our mouths constantly open just waiting to be fed. There comes a time to use our wings, to trust that there are powers of healing and redemption at work in the world, a time to leave the nest and fly.

Although I didn’t include the epistle lesson today, limiting it to one reading because of Communion, if we had read the epistle, we would have heard Paul say something similar. “We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine . . . But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ . . .” (Ephesians 4: 14). There’s a time for growing up, maturing in faith.

There’s a time for a challenge.

I was working earlier this year with an exciting congregation outside of Toronto. It was a church that had once been a dying, rural church, passively watching as a new suburban and urban world, a multi-cultural world, grew up all around it. But unlike so many congregations in that situation that circle the wagons and wait for “their people,” to come back, this church had taken some big risks. They moved from their quaint, old building to meet in an elementary school. They changed the whole feel of church, opting for contemporary music and an informal style. Worship was exciting, music was lively and engaging. Now, as I went there, they had just completed a building program, a wonderful new sanctuary.

They invited me to do a day-long workshop. As I spoke with the pastors in preparation for the event they said that one of their challenges was that church members kept saying, “What’s next? What’s the next, new thing? We want more, we need more, we want to go deeper!” In one sense, that’s great.

But in another sense, those church members sounded a little like the crowd that pursued Jesus asking for the next meal. We can get trapped in that. And there’s a lot in North American culture these days that feeds into that as well. What’s the next new thing? What’s the next high? The next peak experience? Where’s the next “hot” church? As someone put it, “The problem with faith based on miracles is that it always needs one more miracle.”

So my topic that day for the workshop was adult faith formation. My theme story was from Acts, the story of Philip and the Ethiopian Eunuch. Philip, you recall, “came alongside” this spiritual seeker, the Ethiopian Eunuch, helping him to take the next steps in his own faith journey.

What I said to them–my challenge–was that instead of asking what would be the next meal spread for them, they might instead be asking how they could mentor others to grow in faith? Could they be Philips for others? Instead of waiting for a miracle, participate in one instead.

Some of you have spoken with me about your concern that our church, Bethany, provide an engaging program for our older children. That’s very important. But it may be that as kids get older, as they move into junior high age, the right question is not so much, “What will they like?” or “What rabbit can we pull out of our hat this Sunday?” as “What will give them a worthy challenge?” I thought it was so great that last week the kids did the food for our hospitality time, harvesting things from the Bethany Pea Patch, washing and serving them.

So Jesus pushes the envelope, elaborates the challenge, as he continues, saying, “Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures for eternal life.” It’s not about food that’s fast; it’s about food that lasts. Jesus, it turns out, was into the real “slow food,” movement.
Here’s the next step, the next stage in this challenging conversation. Jesus has said, “Work for the food that endures for eternal life.” So the crowd asks, logically, what must we do? “What must we do to perform the works of God?” “Tell us what to do.”

If we were in Mark the answer might be, “Love the Lord you God with all your heart, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself.” If we were in Luke, it would be what Jesus said at the end of the Parable of the Good Samaritan, “Go and do likewise.” Or in Matthew, it might be some of the great teachings of the Sermon on the Mount, “Love your enemies.”
But listen to what Jesus says here, here in John. “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” That’s it? Just believe? What happened to “do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with God?” What happened to neighbor love and prophetic action?

Well, all of those have their place and their time, but let’s stay with this word, the word that God has given us today. “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” In a way that may sound easy, a slam dunk, compared with the harder works of mercy or justice. But is it? At least for some of us, doing God’s work may come a little easier than, as they say in AA, “Letting go and letting God.” Or in the second of the Twelve Steps, which goes, “Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves . . .”

Putting our trust down on him, on Jesus; believing in him. Believing in what he has done for our salvation. Trusting in his way, his power, his wisdom and his mercy.

I don’t know if you receive the United Church of Christ Daily On-Line Devotional? This week one of the writers, my friend Martin Copenhaver, told a story prompted by the feeding of the 5,000. Martin recalled that when he was a student at Yale Divinity School, there was once a gathering of the faculty where a professor of New Testament read a paper about this passage, the story of the multiplication of the loaves and fishes.

“The scholars present entered into the kind of debate that is common in the academy. They argued about the veracity of the account, its various literary and historical influences, and presented different theories about how the story had taken its final canonical form. Then someone turned to Paul Holmer, a curmudgeonly professor of theology, for his opinion because he had been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange, seemingly lost in thought.

“Holmer paused for a moment and then said, ‘Well, I don’t know about all that stuff. I was just thinking that if Jesus could feed all those people, maybe he can feed me.”

Sometimes what’s hard for us isn’t doing all the various tasks that we think of as God’s work, after all being “busy” is second nature to us. What’s hard may be confessing our need for God and our trust in Jesus as our Savior.
“Well, I don’t know about all that stuff. I was just thinking that if Jesus could feed all those people, maybe he can feed me.” Amid the high and mighty, the great scholars and teachers, and all the self-importance of a place like Yale Divinity School, this man confessed something that can be, well, embarrassing, the need of a Savior, the need of Jesus Christ.

“This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.”

Now, then, we move to the third step in this encounter between Jesus and the crowd. First, he gave them a challenge: it’s not just about the next meal, it’s about change of minds and hearts. Second, they asked what should they do, what work, what tasks? He said, “Believe in me, trust in a higher power.”
And now in the third part, how do the people in the crowd respond to Jesus’ invitation to trust in him? Kind of back to stage one, listen: They say, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe in you?” In other words, we want some evidence, some proof. Do something big, then we’ll decide. Now, this is odd because just the day before he had fed 5,000, but whatever. Memories are short. What have you done for me lately?

But imagine in a relationship, a marriage or a friendship, and one person says, “You have to prove to me that you are my friend.” Red lights flashing. Or in a marriage, “Prove beyond doubt your love . . .” Well, something is already amiss.

So they say to Jesus, “Give us a sign, proof, that we may believe,” then they take it a step further and add, “Our ancestors ate bread in the wilderness that Moses gave them; what can you do? Can you top that?” Sometimes it’s a lot easier to take refuge in the past and its supposed glory than to trust God and respond to God in the present.

That’s not bad, let me repeat that: “Sometimes it’s a lot easier to take refuge in the past and its supposed glory than to trust God and respond to God in the present.”

Sometimes and in some situations all people can talk about is what happened way back when, and too bad you weren’t there. We were and that makes us really special!

But what has happened there is that somehow God has ceased to be a living presence, right here, right now. But Jesus is onto that move, onto the real issue, which is, is there a living God alive and at work today here and now? So, listen to how he responds, “It was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven; it is my Father who gives you the true bread from heaven.” Not past tense, long ago and far away. “We came over on the Mayflower. We were charter members.” Present tense, right here, right now. There is a living God, how will you and I respond?

In a sense, then, even though we’ve heard the rest of the story, we haven’t heard it all even yet. Because the rest of the story is yet to be told, yet to be written in our words and actions. Placed before the living God, how will we respond? How will we complete the rest of the story?

There is a living God. God has sent Jesus not just to give us what we want, but what we need.

God has sent Jesus not only to comfort us, but to challenge us.

God has sent Jesus not just to provide temporary relief, but for a lasting relationship.

God has sent Jesus not to be food that’s fast, but to be the food that lasts.

Jesus said I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. So come to this table, trusting in the power and the promise of God. Grace is poured out. Mercy is available.

And perhaps you and I too will be able to say, “Well, I don’t know about all that stuff. I was just thinking that if Jesus could feed all those people, maybe he can feed me.”

He can. He is able. He can feed you and me ‘til we want no more. Thanks be to God.