John 6:24-35

So when the crowds saw that neither Jesus nor the 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 lake, they said to him, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus answered them, “Very truly I tell you, you did not come looking for me because you saw the signs, but because you had your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the bread that perishes, but work for the bread that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For it is upon him whom God, the Father, has set his seal.”

They said to him, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” He said to them, “This is the work of God: that you believe in him whom he has sent.” They said to him, “Then what sign will you give us so that we might see and believe? What works are you performing? Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, for it is written, ‘he gave them bread from Heaven to eat.’”

Jesus said to them, “It was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven to eat, but my Father who gives the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God comes down from Heaven and gives life to the world.” They said to him, “Sir, give us this bread always.” Jesus said to them, “I am the Bread of Life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry. Whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

More than once this week, due to some confusion or miscommunication about who was supposed to be where, when – we had a couple of campers who didn’t get picked up on time after our Camp at Church events. Most kids don’t like to be the last one in the building, of course, killing time with the grown-ups, twiddling their thumbs, waiting, wondering, worrying about where mom and dad might be… what’s taking them so long… how much longer they’ll have to wait, and so on. And the longer the wait, the greater their anxiety and worry grow.

While I was making phone calls and sending texts and starting to wonder and worry a bit, myself in each case, I just kept assuring the kids that someone was coming, that everything was fine, that Mom and Dad were probably just stuck in traffic, or had the time wrong, or got trapped at work. “TRUST ME,” I said. Everything is fine. Someone will be here, soon. (And I prayed to Jesus I was telling the truth.)

Because other than those words and my high hopes, I had nothing else to offer these kids. No proof to show. No evidence to offer. No sign to give that they should, in fact, trust me. And it made me think about the crowds who were following Jesus around – still and again – in this morning’s Gospel, looking for a sign of their own.

See, these crowds following Jesus – listening to him preach and teach and heal, wondering about what he was up to – they wanted to know why they should believe in him; why they should follow him anywhere. And they remembered that event back in the Old Testament, their ancestors were wandering around in the wilderness, hungry and thirsty and lost and not so sure they should be following and believing the leader they had in Moses. So the people around Jesus were saying, “Back in the day, there were signs. There was proof. There was evidence that Moses was God’s mouthpiece; that God was God, after all.”

“As it is written, ‘Moses gave them bread from heaven to eat,’” they were saying to Jesus.

In other words, “They got a sign. We should get a sign.” “They got bread. We should get bread.” “They got manna in the wilderness. We should get us some manna.”

“How can I know, for sure, that Mommy or Daddy are coming to get me? What sign can you give me?” (Whether it was 15 minutes or 45, the waiting seemed interminable for those kiddos)

And I can’t tell you the number of times people have told me how much they have longed for a sign – how much they have needed a sign – in order to know where God was calling them, for sure; how God was part of their life, for sure; what in the world God was up to or might be trying to teach them.

Should I take that job or quit this one? If God would just give me a sign so I’d know for sure.

Should I get into this relationship or get out of that one? If only God would give me a sign then I’d know for sure.

Should I choose this college or that one? If only God would give me a sign so I’d know for sure.

Where is the sign that I can endure this struggle? Where is the sign that the cancer won’t win? Where is the sign that I can stop worrying? Where is the proof that any of this is worth it? Where is the sign – the thing – I can see and touch and feel – the cold, hard, something I can grasp – to let me know for sure?

And I do it myself, with stuff around here, too. I’d like a sign that this pandemic will be over soon and clearer guidance about how to move forward in the face of it. And where is the sign about how we should proceed with staffing for a band leader or for someone to tend to the youth? And some signs about what to do after we pay off our mortgage would be nice, too. Where is the sign that we’re following the right lead; doing the right thing; investing in the right ministry and programs and people and places?

Don’t we all still feel like a kid, after camp, some days, waiting for proof that someone’s there or on the way to save us?

The thing is, none of us know much of anything for sure these days, do we? We want a sign… some proof… some evidence… whatever. But that’s not really what we need.

So, what Jesus reminded his friends and followers – and all those who were looking for a sign in this Gospel story – was that “the sign” – the manna in the wilderness wasn’t the point for those early ancestors. It could have been bread or water. It could have been pizza or Pepsi. What “the sign” was didn’t matter nearly as much as the source of it all in the first place: God’s love and devotion, God’s commitment to and presence with God’s people.

See, back in the day, people missed the sign – the very presence of God – standing before them in Jesus, himself. “I am the true bread from heaven,” he assured them, broken and poured out, in the flesh, for the sake of the world. What they really missed through it all – and what we miss or forget too much of the time – is that we have all the sign we need right here in front of us.

We gather for worship because, here, we stand in the presence of our baptism’s water. And we will eat bread and we will drink wine, too – all more than just signs, of what matters most, but the very real presence of what matters most – for this life and the next. This water, this bread, this wine – are reminders for us that we have all we need, already, because of God’s very real and present love for us.

Nothing that I could share with the kids who were waiting for their parents after camp mattered until their parents actually walked in the door – not that I’d gotten a text or left a message or even news that Mom was on the way. What really mattered was when they saw Mom pull into the parking lot or walk into my office with a smile on her face.

When the sickness comes; if the cancer wins; when the fear is so great; as the doubts pile up; when the uncertainties overwhelm us; when there are more questions than answers; when the grief is too heavy; when the loneliness is too real; when the end is near, even; we are called back to the water and we are invited back to the table to be received and filled up by the very real presence of God’s love for us in Jesus.

And we are blessed, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. We are fed with the Bread of Life, who endures all things, hopes all things, believes all things, bears all things. We receive and share the very love, promise, and hope of God – with each other, for the sake of the world – promises like the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting, just to name a few.

Amen

John 6:1-21

After this Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples.

Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming towards him, Jesus said to Philip, ‘Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?’ He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, ‘Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.’ One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, ‘There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?’ Jesus said, ‘Make the people sit down.’ Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all.

Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, ‘Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.’ So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’

When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself. When evening came, his disciples went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them. The sea became rough because a strong wind was blowing. When they had rowed about three or four miles, they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat, and they were terrified. But he said to them, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Then they wanted to take him into the boat, and immediately the boat reached the land toward which they were going.

I have Haiti on the brain and in my prayers these days because of all the unrest and uncertainty there, following the assassination of their President a few weeks ago. Many of you have asked me what I know, which isn’t much, other than that things are as unsettled and uncertain as ever, but on-edge in a heightened way because of it all. Our friends in Fondwa are safe and stable at the moment, though the unrest and instability in the cities, like Port-au-Prince and Leogane, where our project managers from Zanmi Fondwa get their supplies, will likely make the work of building houses difficult for some time into the future.

And this reading about Jesus’ miracle makes me think about Haiti, too, because poverty and hunger are such a thing for our friends there – something most of us can’t imagine, don’t understand, and haven’t had to struggle with in such systemic, long-standing ways. (I got angrier than I should have when I had to wait in line for 15 minutes at Qdoba, on Thursday, before finding out they didn’t have any fajita veggies for my burrito. So when sat down moments later with this Gospel reading before me, I was reminded that the universe and the Holy Spirit have a funny way of reminding us about our First World problems.) All that to say, when I picture Jesus on that mountain in Galilee, in my mind’s eye, he might as well be on a hillside in Fondwa, surrounded by hungry people. But I’ll come back to Haiti in a minute.

This story of Jesus feeding the 5,000 might be his most popular moment, his greatest hit, if you will. It’s such a popular miracle it appears in all four Gospels. And, Matthew and Mark tell of another event altogether, where Jesus fed 4,000 in one sitting. So hungry people and food and making more of it were a big deal for Jesus and people who wanted us to know about God’s love and grace and abundance in the world.

But, I wondered this week if we like to marvel at the miracle of what Jesus does in today’s story precisely because it takes us out of the equation and gives God and that miracle all the credit. I can’t create something from nothing. You can’t turn crumbs into a banquet. None of us can give away what isn’t there in the first place.

In other words, I wonder if we marvel at the miracle of Jesus feeding the five thousand because then we can pretend all those people – the likes of you and me, the average Joes and Janes – had nothing to do with it. When really, all of that feeding and feasting might possibly have stopped before it ever started had those first followers kept eating, refused to be satisfied, or packed up and headed for home without care or concern for those who were still looking to eat.

Because, notice what happens. Jesus doesn’t ration that bread or those fish when he doles it out to those first in line. He simply gives thanks and delivers the goods. He gives them “as much as they wanted,” we are told, “and when they were satisfied,” …after they ate their fill …when they decided that they had had enough, THEN the disciples are told to gather up the leftovers, the crumbs, the scraps, and start to share it with the rest of the crowd.

Now, maybe all of that is meant to point to the size and scope of Jesus’ miracle – that even after they at their fill … even after they were satisfied and stuffed, there was still plenty to go around. But what if today’s miracle has as much to do with their willingness and ability to share that abundance, as it does with whatever stunt Jesus may have pulled.

I wonder this because, again, all of it makes me think about our friends in Haiti. Some of you might remember Jamalyn Williamson, the CEO of Zanmi Fondwa, telling the story of her friend Jesula, caring for a gaggle of kids, which Jesula always seems to be doing. She has a houseful of her own (4-6 children, maybe more, I honestly can’t keep track) along with whatever handful of neighbor kids and cousins happen to be around at any given moment. Well, Jamalyn tells a beautiful story about Jesula cleverly, expertly, generously, lovingly slicing a single, solitary hard-boiled egg into slices thin, but substantial enough for a gathering of hungry children each to have something to eat. There might as well have been 5,000 of them. It was kind of a miracle.

Jesula isn’t Jesus, of course. So she could – and she would have been justified in the minds of most to – have gathered her own children into her own home and shared that single, solitary egg with her own, fewer mouths to feed, instead of sharing it with the neighborhood. But that doesn’t feel like a miracle, does it?

Now, I’m not saying Jesus didn’t do something magical, mysterious, or miraculous with that bread and those fish. I’m saying, it seems to me that those hungry people, the first in line, don’t seem to have filled their pockets or stuffed their satchels, which they could have done. They didn’t claim they deserved what was theirs because they got there first or were at the front of the line or earned their place at the table because they had pulled themselves up by their sandal straps. And Jesus doesn’t ask or require any of that, either, of course.

So, I’m inclined to believe that, like Jesula, something about their experience with Jesus made them aware of and mindful about and filled with compassion for those who hadn’t eaten, yet.

I’m inclined to believe that because it’s something else I see for myself in other beautiful ways – over and over again – whenever I’m in Haiti. Yes, when we share toys or food or, especially candy, with the kids at the orphanage, they act just like the kids behave when I pass out popsicles on a “Wild, Wacky, Wonderful Wednesday” evening at Cross of Grace. That is to say, they gather around and press in and act like animals – pushing, shoving, reaching, grabbing, begging – kids are kids are kids, after all.

But they share, beautifully, too, in Haiti, the poorest kids I’ve ever met. The older ones in that orphanage always make sure the younger ones get some of the goods. And, even when we show up with gifts and goodies for particular children from their sponsors here in the states, I see them, without fail, share some of whatever has their name on it with a sibling or a friend or a classmate or a neighbor in some way. That’s a miracle of love and generosity and grace that blows me away every time.

And that’s the opportunity and our challenge in this morning’s Gospel, if you ask me.

Let’s stop minimizing Jesus’ miracle until it becomes nothing more than a magic trick or some sleight of hand that only God can manage. Let’s acknowledge and be challenged by and let’s move in the direction of something much more faithful in all of this. Let’s see that Jesus is showing his disciples – and everyone on the hillside that day – and each of us, too – that we all have a hand in making this kind of miracle run its course.

Because what if the miracle isn’t in the multiplying, at all… in God’s knack for turning scraps into a smorgasbord… in stretching the leftovers… in creating something from nothing, even? What if the miracle of what happened on that hillside lies in the hands of the people who recognized that abundance in the first place, and then decided to share it?

It’s a miracle because that’s not the way the world works. That’s not our inclination enough of the time. It’s not capitalism, it’s the Kingdom of God. And it’s a miracle when it happens.

And it’s our calling as followers of Jesus and as people on the planet – to acknowledge the abundance we enjoy; to recognize that it all comes from God’s grace; to prayerfully, faithfully, humbly, gratefully discern when we are satisfied … when we have eaten our fill… what “enough” really is and when we’ve had it… “enough” food, “enough” money, “enough” resources, “enough” whatever… and then to share the abundance that will be left, the abundance that already is, if we’re honest, with our neighbor and with a wider world that is out there watching us eat our proverbial fill at the front of the line.

Wouldn’t that be a miracle?

Amen

Waiting For a Sign

The Other Miracle of the 5,000 Fed