July 26, 2009

In the beginning, my eight-week sabbatical seemed like this long expanse of time, stretching out forever waiting to be filled with new experiences, break-through theological discoveries and hours upon hours of lofty thoughts.  Midway through, the time apart seemed a little short for the travel, study and profound contemplation I had planned.  At the end, I had suitcases, laundry hampers, garbage bags of used clothes, exploding into each other.  I had stacks of read books, skimmed books, why did I ever buy books, toppling over.  I had a calendar with all the days marked off and a list with many grand notions unchecked.  I landed brown, mellow and wistful. 

Dear ones, I’ve had a foretaste of heaven.  It’s a sabbatical with no return date!  So, I come back to say be very good in this life.  You won’t want to miss the amazing luxury of unscheduled days in eternity.  No meetings, no assignments, no budgets, no wonder the angels sing without ceasing.  I am truly grateful for my time of rest and rejuvenation and I thank you, thank you for that gift.

One of my plans that actually got started was a study of contemporary Christology.  Christology is the subject that examines how the human and the divine co-exist in one person.  It is a field of study less concerned with the details of Jesus’ life, like where he preached in the summer of year 30, and more engaged in the “true” nature of Jesus the Christ.  Was he always with God as John describes, even before the creation of the world?  Did he know everything that was going to happen to him?  What is the purpose of the virgin birth?  If Jesus was also divine, how could he die on the cross?  Who has the authority and credentials to answer these questions? 

For close to 2000 years, people have thought deeply about these issues.  They have pondered and queried, argued and erupted over conclusions.  Ardent believers have been exiled and executed when on the losing side of a debate.  And so the question stands, who has the authority and the credentials to assert definitive answers about the divine and human essence of Jesus Christ?

All we know about this proven historical figure comes from finite, limited, well-intentioned, fallible, human observers.  We have accounts of undocumented, first-hand witnesses reported by untraceable authors, a generation removed from the events.  We have the interpretations of the early church fathers gathering in Nicea almost 300 years after the crucifixion.  We have conclusions of clerics from the Middle Ages, studying, considering, cloistered away in monasteries.  We have the scholarly toil that emerged in the Protestant Reformation.  The fierce fervor of the re-committed leaders of the Great Awakening shaped later Christological understandings.  Theologians in Missionary age, the eras of social reform, the Enlightenment and the post-modern age have all wrestled with the definitive nature of Jesus Christ. 

Their conclusions both compliment and contradict each other.  We understand that as human societies evolve, as new evidence is uncovered, assumptions will change.  We accept new constructs in science and medicine.  We expect re-evaluation in political and social arenas.  In our faith, we want absolute truth.  We want what we know about God, his Son and his Spirit to stand sure for all time.  We rest best when we can reconcile the word of our holy text, with the tradition of our faith community and with our on the ground experience in the world.  When those three entities agree, we have peace.  We are confident in our belief.

But, this morning, we are presented with an opportunity to see how emerging interpretations can support, rather than threaten our faith.  Our gospel passage from John recounts the feeding of the 5,000.  Sometime in his one to three year ministry, Jesus drew a large crowd to a hillside to hear him speak.  The day grew long.  People stayed.  His message captured their imaginations, aroused their intellect, and stirred their hearts.  The day grew later.  People stayed.  Physical reality set in.  The children and adults became very hungry.  Hot dog concessions were not available.  Seeing the problem, a question is posed.  What food do we know is on hand?  Five barley loaves and two fish is the response.  These small items are given over to Jesus.  He takes them.  He blesses them.  He breaks them.  He distributes the pieces.  Five thousand men, women and children consume the pieces of five loaves and two fish and all are filled and leftovers are collected.  These are the substantive facts and details of the miracle feeding. 

Years later, this phenomenon is reported verbatim by Mark, by Matthew, by Luke and by John.  Five loaves and two fish were collected, blessed, broken, given and 5,000 were sufficiently fed.  This is all we know.  There are few explanations and little elaboration.  For a very long time, the miracle was understood that Jesus took those seven finite items and, by his divine power, he kept breaking and breaking them apart and, as he broke, the loaves and the fish kept expanding.  The miracle was in the hands of Jesus.

A more recent understanding is that 5,000 people came to hear an extraordinary reality expressed by a messenger from God.  They came to hear something altogether new and illuminating.  They came to hear the hope of God explained, as it never had been articulated before.  They sat transfixed by the man’s personal charisma, by his absolute integrity and transparent honesty.  They were drawn into his conviction and his promise.  They believed his words when he said God’s love was sufficient for life.  They understood his premise, novel though it was, that the world could be a more hospitable, humane and secure reality if human creatures would love God more and one another better.  Five thousand souls and minds were deeply, deeply moved. 

So, when the day grew long and stomachs growled and little ones fretted, no one worried.  No one became angry or agitated.  An unnamed boy offered first.  He trusted the man he came to hear.  He believed the man’s words, so he gave over his lunch.  Jesus took the one meal offered up and blessed it.  We don’t know what grace he gave, but he was Jesus so we can assume it was a very, very good blessing.  In fact, his words were probably so effective that the crowd reacted exactly like the first boy. 

Is it not reasonable to assume that these 5,000 folk knew where they were heading and what the accommodations would be?  A day with an energized, committed speaker in the country, they knew there would be no McDonalds handy.  They knew lunch wasn’t included in the free gathering.  So, isn’t it likely that at least some came prepared?  In their knapsacks, they brought a snack, a little bread, a half a fish, just something to make do.  They brought enough for themselves, certainly not enough for everyone, not even enough to share.  But, when Jesus was done thanking and blessing, they were so moved, so touched, so changed, they dug out their little safe portions and, when the boy’s five meager loaves and two tiny fish came down the row, they pulled off a piece and added their own; person by person, pulling off one bite, replacing and adding for their stores.  In the end, everyone was filled.  Everyone ate.  Everyone was replete with food and peace and satisfaction.  A miracle unfolded before their eyes.  Individuals, complete strangers became a community.  They moved from self-interest to care for the other and in the end, all were cared for – abundantly well.

In this interpretation of Jesus’ miracle feeding 5,000, the action comes not from the Son’s hands, but through his words, through the truth and power of his message.  God gives all that is needed, trust that and then care for one another and all will be well. 

Now, both understandings are acceptable.  Both tell us something of the nature and purpose of Jesus Christ.  Both point to his power and unique stature.  Both call us to trust his identity as God’s anointed singular messenger.  Both call us to accept and follow his teachings.  Perhaps an advantage of the latter interpretation is that we see that Christ’s miracles are not dependent on his physical presence in our world.  Amazing change, awesome transformation can occur by the power of his spoken word remembered, repeated, lived on.  Today, millennium later, we can recall his lessons, his parables and promises.  We can hear the miracle of the loaves and fishes with fresh ears.  We connect that story to the unwavering core message he left us.  God loves us deeply.  God gives us all we need.  Trust that and behold the miracle that unfolds.  When we put aside our need for worldly assurances and trust God’s gracious abundance, we experience the “miracle” of being fully fed in mind and spirit and, yes, even in body.

When we live in the comforting, sustaining word of Jesus, God’s foretold Christ, we are filled to the brim.

With whatever miracle interpretation we accept, may we leave this place renewed and recommitted to the feeding and filling Christ offers.

Amen.