Let’s Go! … Fed and Nourished - Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

Let’s Go! … Fed and Nourished

Pentecost 9B (Lectionary 17)

July 25, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

John 6.1-21

The feeding of the 5,000 in John has overtones of Holy Communion, especially since there is no Lord’s Supper during the celebration of the Last Supper with Jesus’ disciples. The four-fold shape that we find in Holy Communion of “BBBS” is there: Bring, Bless, Break and Share, though there are no Words of Institution. As I was preparing for this sermon, I was thinking about memorable experiences I’ve had of Holy Communion. There was my “illegal” first Communion during a youth camp at Gustavus Adolphus College before I was confirmed. And there was the Holy Communion we shared after a contentious meeting with denomination officials about a building project that greatly calmed the waters. Yet, for me the most memorable Communion is the weekly privilege of looking into peoples’ eyes and saying the words, “The Body of Christ, given for you.”

We are taking a five-week sojourn into John’s Gospel, with today’s lesson being John’s version of the story that was skipped in Mark’s Gospel last week, one that Pr. Paige read to fill in the blanks between the return of the 12 from their mission trip and the healing of the sick in Gennesaret. To set us up for five weeks of bread, it’s helpful to point out some features about John’s Gospel in general and this story in particular. First, apparently the crowds that follow Jesus do so because of the signs, John’s word for miracles, because these amazing acts point as signs to who Jesus is. Even so, we are not sure what they expect and this is to be played out in the Gospel. Also, unlike the other versions of the feeding, the people are not described as harassed, lost, sick or in need of Jesus’ compassion. They appear to be gawkers.

Second, the disciples aren’t the ones who worry about feeding; it is Jesus who tests Philip and asks how the people are to be fed. And when Andrew finds a young boy with the loaves and fish, it is Jesus who feeds them all. Then, also peculiar to John, this miraculous sign pushes the crowd to make Jesus king, because one of the signs of the coming Messiah is that he will feed the poor people. Finally, when Jesus comes to the disciples across the water, he says, “It is I; do not be afraid.” Though these words are also in Mark, this is significant because Jesus is really saying “I am,” the name for God.

There are a number of “I am sayings” in John: “I am the Good Shepherd,” “I am the way, the truth and the life,” I am the resurrection and the life,” I am the true vine,” and “I am the light of the world,” to name a few. But for the next four weeks we’ll be thinking about what Jesus means when he says, “I am the bread of life.” But for today, I want to reflect on what it meant that Jesus distributed the meal to everyone. One takeaway is that, in Jesus, what appears to be insufficient can produce what is needed, and more. Yet, I’m still wondering what the people were looking for as they followed Jesus and what it was like as he gazed into each of their eyes as he pressed food into their outstretched hands. Was there gratitude for an unexpected meal? Was it skepticism that it would be enough? Or something else?

Regardless of what they were looking for or expected from Jesus, this God in the flesh gave them exactly what they needed in the breaking of the bread, even though they responded rashly. They had the best of intentions, not knowing that Jesus would not be made a king in that way. And when Jesus comes to the disciples on the water, he also meets them in the midst of their need. They, too, assumed what they needed to do with Jesus, but Jesus had other ideas. Jesus brought them to their destination in his own time and in his own way.

These are words of caution but also words of comfort: Jesus meets us in our very need, but does so according to his purposes and not our own, giving exactly enough with more left over. Understandably, there is disappointment here about losing some pastoral candidates but I would say that you have not lost anything; rather, you’ve just not found the right pastor God intends you to have. And, I would say, God has given you what you need in a dedicated, committed call committee, a church council that is supporting them, and a synod giving you every chance to succeed.

So, maybe the question isn’t “What are you looking for?” but “What is it that Jesus is giving that you need?” Very often, what we find is more important than what we are looking for. As we’ll see in the coming weeks, Jesus is the Bread of Life, giving you what you need. When you come forward for Holy Communion, know that this Bread of Life meets you where you are, bringing life abundantly. So, let’s go, fed and nourished, in service to our communities. Thanks be to God. Amen.

For the video version of this sermon during worship click here.

Let’s Go! … Comforted and Provoked - Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

Let’s Go! … Comforted and Provoked

Pentecost 7B – Lectionary 15

July 11, 2021

Grace, Waseca, MN

Mark 6.14-29

Preaching can be a dangerous affair. Just ask Amos, just ask John the Baptist, just ask Jesus. One may have some sympathy for the priest Amaziah, who only wants to preach good news to King Jeroboam. And then comes along this usurper of a traveling preacher calling the king to account for his misdeeds. Yet Amos cannot stand in the way of God’s powerful word no more than John or Jesus can. Both of them are speaking truth to power to their respective secular leaders, Herod and Pilate. The similarities are eerie. Both preachers are viewed favorably by them but they are both easily manipulated and, though seemingly in charge, become helpless in the flow of events. Preaching can be a dangerous affair.

Mark has laid out for us another masterfully told story with vivid detail and intriguing characters. And as a sidebar, it’s the only place in Mark’s Gospel where Jesus is not present yet the story has huge implications for him. It’s important to note that this story is the meat to last week’s and next week’s sandwich bread. Just prior to this reading, Jesus sends out the twelve nascent preachers on a mission, warning them that their preaching may not be welcomed. And next week we’ll hear of their return for their debriefing and some intended time away. Mark’s point seems clear: preaching is a dangerous affair. What happened to John will happen to Jesus, what happened to Jesus will happen to his disciples, and what happened to them may happen to those who come after them.

There has been a common refrain heard by preachers from parishioners in the last decade: no politics in the pulpit! Well, tell that to Amos who gets in a load of trouble preaching to King Jeroboam. Tell that to John the Baptist who loses his head to Herodias who doesn’t like his message. Tell that to Jesus whom we know was “crucified under Pontius Pilate.” Tell that to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who died at the hands of the Nazis days before he would have been liberated. Tell that to Nelson Mandela, who was imprisoned for preaching against apartheid in South Africa. Tell that to Bishop Oscar Romero, who was brutally slain while performing mass in El Salvador for speaking against governmental atrocities. I could go on. 

In a 1902 newspaper column, Finley Peter Dunne said of newspapers, “they … comforts th' afflicted, afflicts th' comfortable,” a phrase picked up by many leaders but especially as something of a mission statement for preachers. Preaching is dangerous for preachers because it’s dangerous for listeners, or it ought to be. Annie Dillard, speaking about God’s powerful word says this: “It is madness to wear ladies' straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews.” God’s word does something in, with, and through us. This past week a colleague said that she prefers to use the word “provoked” instead of “afflicted,” and I agree with her.

Once in awhile a seasoned member of a congregation will reminisce about a preacher from a bygone era saying, “When he preached you knew you were being preached at.” I understand what they mean as I was reminded of an event during my American Lit class at Gustavus Adolphus College. Professor Gerhard Alexis shook his finger at us, saying “You hang by a slender thread.” He was of course channeling 18th c. theologian Jonathan Edwards with a quote from his famous sermon, “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God.” Indeed, we Freshman American Lit students were provoked just as Edwards’ listeners were. You see, preaching is dangerous for listeners because the gospel makes a claim on our lives. We are people on the way seeking to live out and live into God’s kingdom, living the abundant life God intends for us. Indeed, we are “already but not yet.”

Preaching is a dangerous affair, but we preachers wouldn't do, couldn’t do, anything else because God lays a claim on us. It is a joy to proclaim God’s grace, mercy and love, but it is also a great responsibility. Today we celebrate the 10th anniversary of Pr. Paige’s ordination and tenure here at Grace. I hope you will thank her for those times when she has comforted you in your afflictions, but I hope you will also thank her for those times she provoked you in your comfort zones. And I’m going to invite you to do one more thing: take the Celebrate insert home, read through it devotionally, asking yourself, “What might God be saying to me in this text? Where am I finding comfort, but where might God be prodding me to deeper life?” So, put your crash helmets on, strap yourselves in and Let’s Go! into the world, comforted and provoked. Thanks be to God. Amen.

For the video version of this sermon click here.