Bread of Life

August 1, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

John 6:24-35[1]

Have you been hungry lately? How about thirsty? So, what’s wrong, don’t you and I believe in Jesus? Let’s not fool ourselves by taking a metaphor and making it literal. Jesus often explained things using stories and metaphor. Bread is one of those metaphors that connect something we know and understand to something we’re trying to learn.

When we pray the Lord’s Prayer, and ask for our daily bread, we’re not really asking God to give us a baguette for our supper. We’re asking for something deeper, the nourishment that our spirits need daily. That nourishment, that sustenance, that comes only from God is what we pray for.

When the crowd found Jesus, they found someone who gave sustenance for their souls. They we’re healed, they were listened to, they heard stories and scripture, and they received love. They couldn’t get enough of it! Jesus left with the disciples to go to Capernaum on the other side of the sea. The crowd followed, because they needed more of what Jesus was offering.

Jesus knew something else was going on, beyond their desire to be healed and fed. At least some in the crowd wanted to make him king. Their rulers were tyrants, demanding huge sums in taxes, engaging in massive building projects not for the benefit of the people, but to impress Caesar. A once proud nation, focused on the worship of God had become a colony focused on the worship of the emperor. The people wanted to go back to the days when their kings had been like David and Solomon, rulers renowned for their righteousness and wisdom.

Another aspect of wanting Jesus to be king is that they wanted him to be the king they wanted. A king that would meet their needs. They wanted Jesus to lead them to national greatness. They wanted a king who would fill their bellies like their ancestors had eaten manna in the wilderness. They wanted, as Jesus put it, “the food that perishes” (v. 27). They wanted a king made in their image. A king they could control. A political tool to serve their political ends. Jesus was not the king they wanted.

Jesus came to bring them nourishment for their souls. The Son of Man gives “the food that endures for eternal life” (v. 27). The needs of our bodies always return. We may eat our fill, but we will be hungry again. We may receive healing, but we will be sick and broken again. What Jesus was offering was something everlasting, something that would never need to be replenished, and would never run out.

The story told in The Gospel According to John is a story situated in a particular context, a certain time and place, but it is really a story about the meaning of Jesus in the universe. John’s Gospel begins with the Creation story, and the Word who was with God. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and returned to God. The timeframe of that story is eternal, and the location is all of God’s creation. In that sense, Jesus didn’t come to be an earthly king, but an eternal, cosmic one.

“What sign are you going to give us then?” (v. 30). The signs that Jesus gives them are not the symbols and acts of a conquering king of this world. Instead, what they receive are signs that point to belonging in the one true family, the kin-dom of God, which is eternal and boundless. Compassion, healing, hope, and love, these are not the attributes of a ruler. They are the attributes of a family.

So why did they follow Jesus? Why do we? It may be that the crowd that got in boats to cross the sea pursued Jesus because they wanted to use his power for their own ends, rather than follow him in pursuit of God’s will. Now I can understand their desire for a powerful leader. Who better to break the power of the Romans than God’s Messiah? And once they had achieved their deliverance, what better way to ensure their goals and desires were met than to use the political and economic power to achieve them? Jesus was, to some, a means to achieve power.

Do we do the same sometimes? Do we pursue Jesus in order to achieve our own goals, our own human kingdoms? Or, do we follow where Jesus leads, in order to participate in God’s kin-dom: to love and care for one another with the compassion and kindness of a holy family? Are we seduced by the sparkling gem of Jesus’ power, or are we pulled toward a ministry of healing and hope?

There was a time when the Christian Church was powerful, sanctuaries were full, and the world revolved around the Christian calendar. Sunday was for church, and everything else was scheduled around that fact. And yet, one scholar asks, “did Jesus cross the water from that church?”[2] When the Church was ascendant, did it become a club for the saved, and forget the mission of saving the lost? Mark’s Gospel records Jesus saying, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”[3]

The crowd had been healed and fed, a sign, a miracle. And yet it wasn’t enough. They wanted to gain his power for themselves. “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.”[4] They had seen his power, but missed the point. Jesus shared bread and fish with five thousand people, a demonstration of compassion and generosity, and all that some of them saw was the act of power. Jesus didn’t come to impress the crowds, but to lead them to a new way of being.

Jesus did the things he did not to gain the support of the crowds for political gain. He healed so that the sick would know they had a healer. He forgave the sinners so that they would know that they were still loved. He fed the hungry so that they would know that God wanted them to have life.

“Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty’” (v. 35). Jesus wasn’t offering magic baskets of bread that never emptied. He was offering a way of being in the world. When it is our souls that hunger and thirst, it is not power or prestige that we need. When it is our souls that hunger and thirst, it is justice and peace that we need. It is hope and healing that we need. It is compassion, love, and family that we need.

What is the bread that gives you life? For me, a smile and laughter shared; a companion in the waiting room or a hand to hold in the hospital bed; a kindness given with nothing expected in return. What gives me life is not pursuing Jesus to try to capture his power, but following where he leads, into the midst of the powerless and the hopeless. When we eat together, as Jesus showed us how, we are nourished by the bread that comes down from heaven, strengthened by our shared mission to bring more love, hope, and peace to the world. Let us break bread together.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] The Rev. Dr. Cheryl A. Lindsay, “Sermon Seeds: Grow, Grow Together,” reflection on John 6:24–35 for August 1, 2021, from: https://www.ucc.org/sermon-seeds/.

[3] Mark 2:17.

[4] John 6:15.

Banquets of Empire

July 11, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Mark 6:6, 14-29[1]

What an awful story! Why this one? This tale of the beheading of John the Baptist offers several things for us to think about. First, this story is a bit of foreshadowing. Just as John preached a different way of living, was arrested, and then executed; Jesus also preached a different way of living, and will ultimately be arrested and executed as well. In a way, Mark is preparing the reader for what is to come.

This passage also foreshadows the answers that the disciples will give when Jesus asks them “Who do people say that I am?”[2] They answer: John the Baptizer, Elijah, or one of the ancient prophets. King Herod concludes that it must be that “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”[3] When Peter answers, later in Mark’s gospel, he declares “You are the Messiah.”[4]

Second, this story illustrates a contrast between the ways of wealth and power, in that time and in ours, and the alternative way of Jesus. As the Rev. Michael Anthony Howard wrote in a reflection on this text, “Where the banquets of empire are feasts of fear, scarcity, and death, the followers of Jesus partake in the feast [of] love, abundance, and life!”[5]

This story has a convoluted beginning. Essentially, King Herod had married his brother’s wife, Herodias. John pointed out to Herod that this was not lawful, according to Leviticus 20:21. John, being a prophet, probably said this in a public setting, embarrassing Herod and Herodias. This causes Herodias to want to kill him, but Herod doesn’t because he was a public figure known as a holy man, and because “he liked to listen to him.”[6] So, Herod only had him arrested.

This brings us up to the banquet, a lavish birthday celebration for King Herod, with all the most important, wealthy, and powerful people attending. A bit of background might be helpful here.

The ruling class of Judea held power because of their submission to Roman rule. Roman power, exerted through the threat of violence, pervaded every aspect of society. The local elites curried favor from Rome through an extensive building campaign begun under Herod the Great. After his death, Herod Antipas, the King Herod in this story, funded a massive twenty-year, empire-city-building tribute to Rome.[7] Through taxes, forced labor, and the ever-present threat of violence, Herod held more power than any besides the Roman officials themselves.

At the same time, Herod’s position was weak. At any moment, Rome’s displeasure with him could find Herod replaced. The courtiers, officers, and leaders of Galilee knew this. They may have shown public deference to the king, but each would be watching for their chance to knock him down and take his place. Herod also seems easily manipulated by his wife, Herodias, who keeps her eyes open for any opportunity. He had reason to fear rebellion, too, which was one reason he had not executed John.

Into the midst of the banquet dances the child of Herod and Herodias. “She pleased Herod and his guests,”[8] and, in a soft-hearted gesture, Herod promises to give her anything she might ask for. He even, foolishly, swears to give her even half of his kingdom. When the girl consults her mother, Herodias sees her moment to strike. The child, in front of a room of powerful, greedy men, asks for “the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”[9]

The king is stuck. He has made a bold promise in front of these powerful people who will use any misstep against him. He must fulfill his daughter’s wish, or be seen as weak. He gives the order, out of his own fear of losing power, or losing face in front of the powerful, and the violence of the state is unleashed.

This scene is, unfortunately, not unusual. It was, and is, common for the powerful to fear the loss of power, and to feel the need to show others just how powerful they are. Those who rule through violence find reasons to use that violence; and it is those who try to hold power to account, the prophets, the oppressed, the innocent, the poor, women, and children who are most often on the receiving end of that violence.

This is the world into which Jesus walks, bringing a very different message, and a different kind of banquet. When people gather around Jesus, there is healing, learning, compassion. The people who gather to eat with Jesus, it’s not the wealthy and powerful but sinners, some fishermen, and crowds of ordinary folk. The women around Jesus are not there to serve and entertain, but to be equal partners in bringing the realm of God to life. As the author Rachel Held Evans once wrote, “The church is God saying, ‘I’m throwing a banquet, and all these mismatched, messed up people are invited. Here, have some wine.”[10]

When Jesus held a banquet, it wasn’t the local elites who gathered to dine. “As he sat at dinner in Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were also sitting with Jesus and his disciples.”[11] When asked why he would eat with such people, Jesus said to them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.”[12]

He became so popular so quickly that while trying to eat a meal in Nazareth, “the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat.” The meal would have to wait, there was teaching and healing to be done.

A great crowd followed him to a deserted place, and stayed listening to him well into the evening. The disciples thought to send the crowd away to find something to eat, but Jesus answered them, “You give them something to eat.”[13] With five loaves and two fish, all ate and were filled.

The disciples, humble as they were, did seek for power. Once as they walked along, they argued with one another about who was the greatest. Rather than show of his power and strength, Jesus taught them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”[14] Jesus didn’t come to rule like a king, but rather to rule in the hearts of the people.

At the end, when he knew the end was near, they gathered in an upper room. Jesus didn’t offer them wealth or power; he didn’t demand the death of his enemies. Instead, he gave them himself, willingly going to his fate, becoming so much more than a provincial ruler in an empire built on violence.

While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”[15]

We choose the kind of banquets we attend. We can dine on wealth and power, using violence and fear to control others. We can serve a meal of greed on a platter of death. We can participate in the banquets of empire. But Jesus offers a different way.

Let us dine on service and self-sacrifice. Let us use kindness and love, not to force, but to guide others to a better way of life. Let us serve a meal of gratitude for all that God has provided that gives life. Let us eat at Christ’s table, welcoming everyone, healing each other’s wounds, binding up broken hearts, and joining in the covenant of love.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] Mark 8:27-30.

[3] Mark 6:16.

[4] Mark 8:29.

[5] Michael Anthony Howard, “Weekly Seeds: The Banquet of God (Lavishing Grace)” for Sunday, July 11, 2021 on https://www.ucc.org/sermon-seeds/the-banquet-of-god-lavishing-grace/.

[6] Mark 6:20.

[7] Richard A. Horsley, Jesus and Empire: The Kingdom of God and the New World Disorder (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003), 32-33.

[8] Mark 6:22.

[9] Mark 6:25.

[10] Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2015).

[11] Mark 2:15.

[12] Mark 2:17.

[13] Mark 6:37.

[14] Mark 9:35.

[15] Mark 14:22-25.

Crowds of Common Folk

April 5, 2020 – Palm Sunday

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Matthew 21:1-17

The crowds went ahead of him, and the crowds followed after him. The king enters the city, “humble, and mounted on a donkey” (v. 5). Except he wasn’t the king, at least not in the way the people of that time were familiar with. Jesus enters the city with a crowd cheering him on, cutting palms and laying them on the path ahead of him – the original red-carpet treatment. But the crowd that went ahead and followed behind were not the people of the city. “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’ (v. 10). To many people he was still unknown.

Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem was meant to evoke the entry of a triumphant military ruler into that city. It was the custom for Pontius Pilate to make a similarly militaristic triumphal entry to Jerusalem — with war horse, chariot, and weapons — each year in the days before Passover to remind the pilgrims that Rome was in charge. Such a demonstration would have been especially poignant since Passover was explicitly a celebration of the liberation of the Jews from slavery in Egypt.[1]

Indeed, Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem underscores the dissonance of Pilate entering the city like a conquering king – Rome has taken the place of Egypt, and the Emperor is the new Pharaoh. When the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee enters the city, he comes surrounded not by soldiers and symbols of military might, but by common folk and humble symbols of peace, and the promise of hope for the downtrodden. Jesus carries no weapons, nor does he ride on a stallion or a chariot. He rides the most unmilitary mount imaginable: a female donkey with her little colt trotting along beside her.[2] The Prince of Peace, or the king of violence, and the hearts of the people of Jerusalem are the prize.

The people who accompany Jesus are not the powerful; they possess no formal authority to change their world, nor does their leader seek the same kind of power exercised by the religious and military rulers. Instead, they have come because they have seen and heard of a new way of life, an alternative to the oppression, exclusion, and injustice that they face every day. They have come because they have witnessed the kingdom of God in the life of Jesus. They have come not to conquer with violence, but with love.

For us, this crowd calls to mind the many stories of common folk who have recognized that we are able to accomplish more together than we can alone. We remember the women and men who provided safe passage on the Underground Railroad for slaves seeking freedom. We remember Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the Confessing Church in Germany in the 1930s, who took a definitive stance that their loyalty was to Jesus as Lord, not to Hitler and the Nazis. We remember young people in South Africa who stood against apartheid and formed the African National Congress Youth League in 1944 under the leadership of Nelson Mandela. We remember the 250,000 women, men, and children from diverse racial, ethnic, social, and religious backgrounds who gathered on the National Mall on August 28, 1963, who heard the dream of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and took a stand for justice and human dignity.[3] The basic hope of these crowds was the same: peace, a better world, and an alternative to the broken systems that have failed us.[4]

Today we might think of the common folk that work in healthcare, working unseen against an invisible enemy, heroically laboring together to care for people sickened by the coronavirus. We might think of the common folk who work each day at the grocery stores, ensuring that the shelves are stocked and the contact surfaces are disinfected. We might think of the common folk working alone in schools, sending online lessons and leading Zoom meetings with students to ensure their continuing education during this national emergency. And we might count ourselves in the crowds of common folk staying home, dutifully not gathering in groups, trying to prevent a too-rapid spread of COVID-19.

These crowds of common folk in our time are not gathered at the gates of the city, cheering the military parade of the conquering hero. We are too busy doing the work of God’s Kingdom, healing, helping, caring, loving, and protecting the vulnerable. We are working from home, teaching our children, calling and video-conferencing with family, friends, and co-workers.

We remember the story of common folk entering Jerusalem with Jesus, folk like you and me, so that we may find the courage to walk with Jesus in our time and proclaim a world of peace, justice, and love. We will need courage. We will need courage to follow Jesus because he will do dangerous things and upset the people in power. He will turn over the tables and drive the profiteers out of the temple.

There are money-changers in the temple in our time too. There are people who are buying and selling to make a profit off this crisis. There are those who sold their stocks while telling the rest of us that everything would be fine. There are those who raise the price of ventilators and personal protective equipment needed by hospitals because they can get more money from someone else. There are those who are looking out for their own interests first, when they should be serving the needs of the people.

It will take courage to challenge the den of robbers, especially for common folk like us. It will take courage to drive out those who are selling and buying, profiting off the misery of those suffering from this disease or trying to care for them. It will take courage to keep battling this pandemic. But we are not only common folk, we are followers of the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.

We follow Jesus who comes in peace bringing hope for the downtrodden. We follow Jesus who turned over the tables. We follow Jesus who cured the blind and the lame. We follow Jesus who walked up Calvary to Golgotha. We follow Jesus who walked in the garden early in the morning. We may be staying at home rather than marching into the city, but we are watching what is coming down the road. We will survive this crisis and continue the work of justice, peace, and love. We shout “Hosanna!”, and when people ask us what we’re shouting about, we can tell them that we have witnessed the Kingdom of God in the life of Jesus, the one who comes in the name of the Lord. “Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

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[1] John Dominic Crossan, “Study Guide” accompanying the DVD series First Light: Jesus and the Kingdom © 2009.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Veronice Miles, “Pastoral Perspective” on Matthew 21:1-11 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor general editors, Year A, Volume 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 154, 156.

[4] Carl Gregg, Lectionary Commentary: “Jesus, a Donkey, and Jon Stewart’s Rally for Sanity” (for Palm Sunday, April 17, 2011), April 8, 2011 6:02 pm, from: http://www.patheos.com/.