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The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost John 6:24-35 |
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Today’s gospel is “part two” of the story begun last week, and is an extended departure from the Gospel according to Mark to the Gospel according to John. And it is the first of four weeks of gospel lessons on Jesus as the bread of life. There's no escaping it. Every three years on the lectionary cycle, it comes around: four weeks on Jesus as the bread of life. Preachers hate it because repetition is inevitable; at some point, before the four week's are up, one has said all that one has to say about bread. (And I’m betting that when you have two preachers, two will have said all that two have to say about bread.) At some point, George, one of us is going to be preaching and the other is going to say, “Dang it! I was going to say that next week!” Choir directors hate it—this 4-week marathon—because there isn't enough music on the subject to cover. And congregations, at least those people in regular attendance at worship, by the end of the four weeks will have grown pretty weary of it all too. But John seems to think that this subject or image is important. The lectionary people obviously agree. & Theologically, it is one of the most significant symbols we have for understanding our relationship with and dependence on Christ. And so, we begin again this discourse on "bread," trusting that, if we will pay attention, God has something to show us, to tell us, to teach us, to give us, through his Living Word. "Hey,” they say, “if he can do that with fish, think what he could do with a little silver, a little gold, --a wheat field, a vineyard. What else do you have for us, Jesus? What else can you do for us?” They were hungry, so he gave them food to eat—and more. But they missed what he really wanted them to get—what he really wanted to give them. What they really needed. In our Old Testament reading, it seems that David may have missed the point of God’s gifts too. David—a simple shepherd of the field—had been chosen by God to become the king of his people. Every gift, every blessing that enriched David, materially and spiritually, was meant to be used and shared for the benefit of the nation. A benevolent and grace-full God expected benevolence and grace from the king ruling over his people. But time and time again, David failed to live up to God’s expectations. Sometimes, he pleased God; other times he disappointed God—kind of like most of us. Sometimes David “got it.” Sometimes he missed the point completely. And sometimes David abused his privilege and cheated his own people for no other reason than personal greed. With more than any other, it just was not enough. His hunger for material things—worldly manna—would not be satiated, and caused him to covet even what belonged to his servant. This is the case with David’s greatest sin: the taking of Uriah’s wife for himself. In order to hide his act of thievery, and to save face in his deceit, he had Uriah placed on the front line of battle. Then he instructed the rest of the army to move back, leaving Uriah helpless and a sitting duck for the enemy forces. With Uriah dead and out of the way, there was nothing to stop David from taking the object of his affection—Uriah’s wife—as his own. David missed the point. He Didn’t even see the great wrong he had done. To him, the plan seemed flawless—and right!. He got what he wanted and the end justified the means. So God sends Nathan the prophet to show David the greatness of his sin. Nathan tells David the story of a rich man, who had all that his heart could desire, including many herds of cattle and flocks of sheep. His neighbor, however, was poor. He possessed only one little lamb, which he loved, as did his children. They would play with the lamb, let it eat at the family table and even sleep in the house, cuddled with the rest of the family. When the rich man had a guest come to his home, rather than taking from his own plenty for a banquet meal, he instead took the poor man’s lamb and slaughtered it and fed it to his guest. David was enraged when he heard the story and swore that whoever did this thing deserved to die. He demanded that Nathan tell him who this transgressor was so that he could be properly punished. And, of course, it was at that moment that Nathan sprang the “punch line”: the evil man in the story was David. “This is what you have done to Uriah!” So says the Lord, “I anointed you king over Israel, and I rescued you from the hand of Saul; I gave you your master’s house…and the house of Israel and Judah; and if that had been too little, I would have added as much more. Why have you despised the word of the Lord and done what is evil in my sight? You have struck down Uriah and taken his wife, all for the love and greed of the material—the physical—the world’s manna, --and at the cost of righteousness toward your neighbor and your spiritual relationship with your God.” And David, finally “getting it,”—finally recognizing the gravity of his actions says to Nathan, “I have sinned against the Lord.” Like David, like the people of Israel, like the people of Jesus' day, we all struggle with our relationship with God, because of our insatiable, overwhelming hunger for the material things of life. & there's nothing wrong with material (sometimes needed) things—with the physical things and pleasures of life—as long as they don't block us from the more important things—the spiritual things—as long as the "bread of the world" doesn't become more important to us than the bread from heaven—the bread of life. Real life. God wants us to have full stomachs, but he also wants us to have full hearts. God wants us to have happiness and joy and abundance, but not at the expense or abuse or at the loss of another. And God wants us to let him fill our souls. God wants to heal our hunger—all of it— (physical and spiritual) by giving us our daily bread—and more. Much, much more. And the result, when we let God do that for us, is that a new relationship, with God and neighbor, is born out of old expectations. A new community emerges out of the ashes of an old order of living. A new way of life and grace is constituted out of an old way of greed and selfishness (and “me first” mentality) . And that's as true in Topeka as it was in David’s Israel—as true at Grace Cathedral as it was Capernaum—it's as true in our own lives as it was in the lives of the biblical characters we read about. Life isn't perfect. It never will be (this side of heaven.) Let us open ourselves to that miracle, and that grace.
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