Character
Commentary
Object:
Every parent of young children can identify with this: a little boy was asked his name, and he replied, "John Don't." Sometimes it seems that parents have only "no's" for their little ones. No, Sarah. You mustn't do that, Matthew. John, don't! It may sound harsh, but when we say "no" to our children it's often a matter of safety, a means of survival. We say it to keep them from falling out of a window or stepping onto a busy street or drinking poison.
Adults need "no's" in their lives too. But for adults it is not always a matter of safety or survival. Usually it has more to do with self-definition. In order to truly say "yes" in life, we must also learn to say "no."
Think of it. If you can't say "no," then you lose the power to say "yes." If you are capable of doing anything, if there's nothing you wouldn't do, then you have no character. Character is something we define by drawing lines, by closing off possibilities, by saying, "I am this because I am not that. I cannot be that because I want to be this."
That is really the point of the negatives in the Ten Commandments. God isn't trying to play the killjoy. God is dealing with us in grace. "Do not have any other gods before me," he says; "for if you do, you'll miss the real thing your life is all about. Do not look for happiness in illicit sexual encounters, because if you do, you will miss the one greatest joy of your sexuality that you could find in troth. Do not speak an untruth, or you yourself will become a lie."
G.K. Chesterton put it marvelously. He said that art and morality have this in common: They both know where to draw the line. That's definition. That's closing some things and shutting other things out. Only when we draw lines can we develop some sense of character, some understanding of personality, some consciousness of identity.
Each of today's lectionary passages deals with character and its development and expression. David, the "man after God's own heart," who has shown such good character for so many years, fails miserably when power, ease, and age collude to rob him of his good name. Paul prays that we all will have character daily shaped by the surpassing greatness of God's own character. And Jesus teaches his disciples the meaning of character when he ties together history and miracle.
Grace works within limits: "No" to this and "yes" to that. No pilgrim will ever crawl to the road toward the kingdom of God until she or he learns the power of the word "no," a word that defines the beauty of God's great "yes."
2 Samuel 11:1-15
The demise of David's reign is tied to a fascinating story that seems to be constantly repeated in political annals: an extramarital affair. Why would David do such a thing? Not just the romantic encounter itself, but the deliberately planned murder (engaging others of his trusted subordinates as willing or unwilling accomplices), the massive deceptions, the elaborate cover-ups, and even the personal delusions that kept him from seeing his own guilt.
Part of the answer has to be found in the very first verse of today's passage: "In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king's men and the whole Israelite army… but David stayed in Jerusalem." This hints at several things. First, the time of the year lent itself to surging hormones and amorous thoughts. After the months of terrestrial hibernation, the world around David was beginning to bloom, the days were getting warmer (Jerusalem sometimes gets snow in winter), both animals and plants were exercising their mating rituals, and along with them the human crowd in the palace and the capital city were showing signs of "frisky" behavior. There is good reason to celebrate Valentine's Day in the spring, and David himself was a muscular male whose own body welcomed the virus of libido.
Second, David's life was a runaway success. His early contestants to the throne of Israel had all been killed, defeated, or swept aside. David was at the top of the corporate ladder, with no immediate challengers in sight. His kingdom was consolidated, his enemies vanquished, his market share a supreme monopoly, his income substantial and rising, his palatial mansion finished, and his goals achieved. David was at the place in his career where "can't" and "defeat" were no longer part of the vocabulary. What he wanted, he got. What he desired, he took. What he planned, happened. No questions asked. Winning a new territory or another heart were essentially the same: get the idea and make it so.
Third, David had begun to isolate himself from the masses. He had the disease of wealthy insulation, where immediate consequences of actions cannot and need not be felt. The armies went off to war, but David stayed in Jerusalem. The workers buzzed about in their daily rituals, but he sat on the roof of his palace and surveyed the scene. Regular folks had to labor for a wage, but there was no schedule David had to keep. He could sleep or sneak or sulk or skulk or sidle or stroll at will. Adultery was at one time mainly the prerogative of the rich simply because only they had the time and means. Today mass transportation, suburban domestic isolation, and a culture of leisure dispensed it liberally to all classes of society. But David lived in one of those eras when "fooling around" was a natural correlation to being rich and powerful.
Character is fashioned in a lifetime of making wise choices. And true wisdom, as Solomon instructed in his Proverbs, begins with the fear of the Lord. Too often the ways of folly are more gripping, appealing, and engaging than the long road of deep habits. Even David, the "man after God's own heart" messed up when this juggling of tuggings tore his soul.
Things haven't changed much, have they? Nor have we. Unfortunately.
Ephesians 3:14-21
While under house arrest in Rome in 58 or 59 AD, waiting for his appeal to be heard by the emperor, Paul's friend Onesimus showed up. Onesimus was the slave of Philemon, a man who became a Christian under Paul's ministry on his third mission journey. Philemon doesn't want to be a slave, and Paul doesn't want to lose a friend, so Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon with a letter urging this rich master to treat Onesimus as a brother rather than a possession.
Mail was often dispatched by way of personal couriers, and Tychicus was the one who carried Paul's letter to Philemon in his traveling pouch. Taking advantage of this opportunity to send personal notes, Paul also penned a letter to the troubled church of Colossae, located near Philemon's home. One other letter eventually ended up in Ephesus, even though it was probably a circular letter designed to be read in all of the regional congregations. Like Colossians, this missal of the same dispatch is shaped in nearly the same way. Jesus is Lord of all, Paul fairly shouts, producing wonderful new life in all who are part of the church (Ephesians 1). Replacing Paul's instructions about the false teaching at Colossae is a brief reminder that Jews and Gentiles are together on the same footing before God because of the powerful redemptive work of Jesus (Ephesians 2). As he begins to celebrate this amazing grace of God through prayer (Ephesians 3:1), Paul interrupts himself, reminding his readers of the specific calling he has received to know and communicate this divine revelation (Ephesians 3:2-13). He resumes his powerful and profound prayer of praise (Ephesians 3:14-21), and then launches into an extended metaphor on what it means for the living body of Christ to function in a dark world (Ephesians 4:1--5:20). Very similar to his instructions in Colossians 3, Paul outlines specific behaviors that are expected in Christian households (Ephesians 5:21--6:9).
In a brief but scintillatingly clear analogy, Paul dresses up the Christian warrior in full battle gear (Ephesians 6:10-20). Only one final note, telling of Tychicus' mission on Paul's behalf (Ephesians 6:21-22) and a short word of blessing (Ephesians 6:23-24), bring this letter to a close.
Paul's letters from prison addressed a couple of specific issues -- the nature of a relationship between master and slave, for instance, when both were Christians, and a proper response to the false teaching that was being promulgated at Colossae. But mostly they paint, in vibrant colors, the character of moral choices in a world that is compromised and broken. Darkness and light are the key metaphors. Evil has wrapped a blanket of pain and harm around all that takes place in the human arena. Jesus is the brilliant light of God, penetrating earth's atmosphere with grace and reconciliation. Because of Jesus' physical departure at the ascension, his followers now must step in and become ten thousand points of light, restoring relationships and renewing meaning. Jesus is great, and because of our connection with him, we can be too. Not for our own sakes, of course, but in the eschatological hope that we already participate in the world of tomorrow today. That is why Christianity is the religion of the dawn.
Most of all, here in Ephesians, and especially in our text for today, prayer is the bridge that connects time with eternity and allows us to bathe in the riches of God's grace. At our best, our characters are an extension of God's primary character, intones Paul. There are few prayers that have ever captured spiritual intimacy and ecstasy as profoundly as today's lectionary reading. In truth, it ought not to be preached, but rather prayed, as it was intended. Perhaps that would be the best thing to come out of today's worship and preaching -- that our people would actually pray this prayer!
John 6:1-21
John organizes a deliberately shaped encounter with Jesus. The seven "miraculous signs" not only provide healing and hope to those who were first the objects of divine grace through Jesus, but they also dig deeper into biblical history to replay the major scenes of the Old Testament in a way that reasserts the mission of God, while shifting its agency from Israel to Jesus.
For instance, just as sin first disrupted the marriage of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, so Jesus first displays his regenerative powers by restoring the celebration at a wedding (ch. 2). Again, while Adam and Eve mourned the loss of their son through murder brought about by sin, a new nobleman (John deliberately sets this character above national, tribal, or ethnic limitations that are otherwise used to identify all other persons in the gospel) receives back his son from the dead (ch. 4). Next, Jesus encounters a man who has been ailing for 38 years (ch. 5), and who can only otherwise be healed by passing through waters that have been divinely disturbed. Interestingly, Moses, in Deuteronomy 2:14, gives the only other reference to the number 38 in all of the Bible, mentioning it as the amount of time the Israelites have been wandering in the wilderness, waiting for the shalom that can come to them only if they pass through the waters of the Jordan River, which will be divinely disturbed in order to make the crossing possible.
In this way John continues to portray Jesus as the new agent of divine redemption, functioning in parallel to the manner in which God dealt with Israel of the Old Testament. Jesus, too, feeds the people of God in the wilderness and tames the raging waters that in the darkness prevent God's people from entering the Promised Land (today's gospel reading). Furthermore, as Isaiah was told about the blindness of the people in his day (Isaiah 6), Jesus contends with similar dysfunctional eyes (ch. 9). And just as Ezekiel had to preach to the dead nation of Israel in order to resurrect it from the grave of exile (Ezekiel 37), so Jesus brings back to life one of his dear friends who has died (ch. 11), symbolizing the ultimate goal of divine grace.
It is only when the seven signs have been published to the world in this manner that the "Greeks" (John's notation for the whole world out there, beyond our tiny Jewish enclave) come seeking Jesus (12:21). Then, immediately, Jesus declares that his hour has come. Why? Because the salvation of God sent to this world (John 3:16-17) has been recognized through the signs and has been received by the world. It has begun to make an impact and the world will never again be merely content with darkness. Dawn is breaking.
Tying together the two miracles of the feeding of the crowds and the stilling of the raging storms, John wants us to think about where our characters are centered. What is it that we desire and what is it that we trust? Those who have characters shaped by their confidence in Jesus know the answer, even if they never really think about it.
Application
The person who will stop at nothing will say yes! to anything! The man who has no limits also has no identity of his own. He robs it from the victims of his cruelties! The woman who doesn't know how to say "No!" will never be able to say "Yes!" to the things in life that matter most. And the child who isn't taught the boundaries of behavior grows up to be an adult without a conscience.
But lines are hard to draw and character is difficult to fashion. Limits are tough to set, especially when society laughs at the pointlessness of it all.
Sometimes it is only through practicing the spiritual discipline that we are taken back to our godly roots, we are set down once more in the company of the great ones of the past, we are reminded of the mastery of God over self, and helped to find our way back home. Our identity is found, at least in great measure, exactly at the points in our lives where we will say no. The Yes! of my life falls precisely within the limits of my No! and fasting will test those limits for me.
Some years ago People magazine interviewed Dolly Parton. At one point the interviewer asked, "Where do you ever get such a strong character?"
Dolly said it came from her family and her Christian faith. "I quote the Bible real good!" she said.
What about psychiatry, asked the interviewer. So many people find the need to get counseling, especially in the stresses of show business.
"No," replied Dolly, "I don't see a psychiatrist. I fast instead."
You what?
"I fast!"
Is that like a diet?
"No!" said Dolly. "I do it to get in touch with God! Sometimes I'll... fast 7, 14, or 21 days... I don't drink nothing but water and I don't ever say when I'm on a fast -- scripture says you're not supposed to" (People, January 19, 1981).
Then she went on to say that she's never made a major decision without fasting and prayer. The interviewer was astounded, so much so that she made a point of it in the article.
Deep character too often surprises us, when we ought instead to crave it and desire it. David forgot this to his peril. Through the soul hunger of Paul's prayer we find again the definition of our characters. In the craving masses seeking Jesus in the wilderness and through the fearful eyes of the disciples on the boat in stormy seas we find out who we really are before God. Says the poet (Edna St. Vincent Millay):
I drank at every vine.
The last was like the first.
I came upon no wine
So wonderful as thirst.
I gnawed at every root,
I ate of every plant.
I came upon no fruit
So wonderful as want.
Feed the grape and the bean
To the vintner and the monger;
I will lie down lean
With my thirst and my hunger.
What does she mean? She means this: That there's a hungering in our souls that food can't fill, there's a thirsting in our spirits that drink can't supply, and sometimes the only way to find out who we really are is to say No! to our appetites, and Yes! to God.
Alternative Application
John 6:1-15. In 1966 evangelist Martin Higgenbottem was one of the main speakers at the Berlin World Congress on Evangelism. He told the gathering that his life of devotion and service had to do with his mother. He remembered coming home from school one afternoon to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a strange man. The fellow was obviously someone who lived on the streets. His clothes were filthy, his hair was slicked with unwashed grease, and his body smelled of a mixture of unkind odors.
But Martin's mother was chatting pleasantly with him while they devoured a plate of sandwiches together. She had gone shopping that morning and found him cold and hungry, so she brought him home with her.
When the man was ready to leave he said passionately, "I wish there were more people in the world like you!"
Martin's mother casually threw the compliment aside. "Oh," she said, "there are! You just have to look for them!"
The man broke down. He shook his head, and tears rolled across his cheeks. "But lady!" he said, "I didn't have to look for you! You looked for me!"
This is a mighty parable in tune with today's gospel reading. Jesus had compassion on the crowds and fed them. Jesus found the struggling disciples on the raging sea. Those who live out of the heart and character of Jesus can certainly hope to do the same.
Adults need "no's" in their lives too. But for adults it is not always a matter of safety or survival. Usually it has more to do with self-definition. In order to truly say "yes" in life, we must also learn to say "no."
Think of it. If you can't say "no," then you lose the power to say "yes." If you are capable of doing anything, if there's nothing you wouldn't do, then you have no character. Character is something we define by drawing lines, by closing off possibilities, by saying, "I am this because I am not that. I cannot be that because I want to be this."
That is really the point of the negatives in the Ten Commandments. God isn't trying to play the killjoy. God is dealing with us in grace. "Do not have any other gods before me," he says; "for if you do, you'll miss the real thing your life is all about. Do not look for happiness in illicit sexual encounters, because if you do, you will miss the one greatest joy of your sexuality that you could find in troth. Do not speak an untruth, or you yourself will become a lie."
G.K. Chesterton put it marvelously. He said that art and morality have this in common: They both know where to draw the line. That's definition. That's closing some things and shutting other things out. Only when we draw lines can we develop some sense of character, some understanding of personality, some consciousness of identity.
Each of today's lectionary passages deals with character and its development and expression. David, the "man after God's own heart," who has shown such good character for so many years, fails miserably when power, ease, and age collude to rob him of his good name. Paul prays that we all will have character daily shaped by the surpassing greatness of God's own character. And Jesus teaches his disciples the meaning of character when he ties together history and miracle.
Grace works within limits: "No" to this and "yes" to that. No pilgrim will ever crawl to the road toward the kingdom of God until she or he learns the power of the word "no," a word that defines the beauty of God's great "yes."
2 Samuel 11:1-15
The demise of David's reign is tied to a fascinating story that seems to be constantly repeated in political annals: an extramarital affair. Why would David do such a thing? Not just the romantic encounter itself, but the deliberately planned murder (engaging others of his trusted subordinates as willing or unwilling accomplices), the massive deceptions, the elaborate cover-ups, and even the personal delusions that kept him from seeing his own guilt.
Part of the answer has to be found in the very first verse of today's passage: "In the spring, at the time when kings go off to war, David sent Joab out with the king's men and the whole Israelite army… but David stayed in Jerusalem." This hints at several things. First, the time of the year lent itself to surging hormones and amorous thoughts. After the months of terrestrial hibernation, the world around David was beginning to bloom, the days were getting warmer (Jerusalem sometimes gets snow in winter), both animals and plants were exercising their mating rituals, and along with them the human crowd in the palace and the capital city were showing signs of "frisky" behavior. There is good reason to celebrate Valentine's Day in the spring, and David himself was a muscular male whose own body welcomed the virus of libido.
Second, David's life was a runaway success. His early contestants to the throne of Israel had all been killed, defeated, or swept aside. David was at the top of the corporate ladder, with no immediate challengers in sight. His kingdom was consolidated, his enemies vanquished, his market share a supreme monopoly, his income substantial and rising, his palatial mansion finished, and his goals achieved. David was at the place in his career where "can't" and "defeat" were no longer part of the vocabulary. What he wanted, he got. What he desired, he took. What he planned, happened. No questions asked. Winning a new territory or another heart were essentially the same: get the idea and make it so.
Third, David had begun to isolate himself from the masses. He had the disease of wealthy insulation, where immediate consequences of actions cannot and need not be felt. The armies went off to war, but David stayed in Jerusalem. The workers buzzed about in their daily rituals, but he sat on the roof of his palace and surveyed the scene. Regular folks had to labor for a wage, but there was no schedule David had to keep. He could sleep or sneak or sulk or skulk or sidle or stroll at will. Adultery was at one time mainly the prerogative of the rich simply because only they had the time and means. Today mass transportation, suburban domestic isolation, and a culture of leisure dispensed it liberally to all classes of society. But David lived in one of those eras when "fooling around" was a natural correlation to being rich and powerful.
Character is fashioned in a lifetime of making wise choices. And true wisdom, as Solomon instructed in his Proverbs, begins with the fear of the Lord. Too often the ways of folly are more gripping, appealing, and engaging than the long road of deep habits. Even David, the "man after God's own heart" messed up when this juggling of tuggings tore his soul.
Things haven't changed much, have they? Nor have we. Unfortunately.
Ephesians 3:14-21
While under house arrest in Rome in 58 or 59 AD, waiting for his appeal to be heard by the emperor, Paul's friend Onesimus showed up. Onesimus was the slave of Philemon, a man who became a Christian under Paul's ministry on his third mission journey. Philemon doesn't want to be a slave, and Paul doesn't want to lose a friend, so Paul sends Onesimus back to Philemon with a letter urging this rich master to treat Onesimus as a brother rather than a possession.
Mail was often dispatched by way of personal couriers, and Tychicus was the one who carried Paul's letter to Philemon in his traveling pouch. Taking advantage of this opportunity to send personal notes, Paul also penned a letter to the troubled church of Colossae, located near Philemon's home. One other letter eventually ended up in Ephesus, even though it was probably a circular letter designed to be read in all of the regional congregations. Like Colossians, this missal of the same dispatch is shaped in nearly the same way. Jesus is Lord of all, Paul fairly shouts, producing wonderful new life in all who are part of the church (Ephesians 1). Replacing Paul's instructions about the false teaching at Colossae is a brief reminder that Jews and Gentiles are together on the same footing before God because of the powerful redemptive work of Jesus (Ephesians 2). As he begins to celebrate this amazing grace of God through prayer (Ephesians 3:1), Paul interrupts himself, reminding his readers of the specific calling he has received to know and communicate this divine revelation (Ephesians 3:2-13). He resumes his powerful and profound prayer of praise (Ephesians 3:14-21), and then launches into an extended metaphor on what it means for the living body of Christ to function in a dark world (Ephesians 4:1--5:20). Very similar to his instructions in Colossians 3, Paul outlines specific behaviors that are expected in Christian households (Ephesians 5:21--6:9).
In a brief but scintillatingly clear analogy, Paul dresses up the Christian warrior in full battle gear (Ephesians 6:10-20). Only one final note, telling of Tychicus' mission on Paul's behalf (Ephesians 6:21-22) and a short word of blessing (Ephesians 6:23-24), bring this letter to a close.
Paul's letters from prison addressed a couple of specific issues -- the nature of a relationship between master and slave, for instance, when both were Christians, and a proper response to the false teaching that was being promulgated at Colossae. But mostly they paint, in vibrant colors, the character of moral choices in a world that is compromised and broken. Darkness and light are the key metaphors. Evil has wrapped a blanket of pain and harm around all that takes place in the human arena. Jesus is the brilliant light of God, penetrating earth's atmosphere with grace and reconciliation. Because of Jesus' physical departure at the ascension, his followers now must step in and become ten thousand points of light, restoring relationships and renewing meaning. Jesus is great, and because of our connection with him, we can be too. Not for our own sakes, of course, but in the eschatological hope that we already participate in the world of tomorrow today. That is why Christianity is the religion of the dawn.
Most of all, here in Ephesians, and especially in our text for today, prayer is the bridge that connects time with eternity and allows us to bathe in the riches of God's grace. At our best, our characters are an extension of God's primary character, intones Paul. There are few prayers that have ever captured spiritual intimacy and ecstasy as profoundly as today's lectionary reading. In truth, it ought not to be preached, but rather prayed, as it was intended. Perhaps that would be the best thing to come out of today's worship and preaching -- that our people would actually pray this prayer!
John 6:1-21
John organizes a deliberately shaped encounter with Jesus. The seven "miraculous signs" not only provide healing and hope to those who were first the objects of divine grace through Jesus, but they also dig deeper into biblical history to replay the major scenes of the Old Testament in a way that reasserts the mission of God, while shifting its agency from Israel to Jesus.
For instance, just as sin first disrupted the marriage of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, so Jesus first displays his regenerative powers by restoring the celebration at a wedding (ch. 2). Again, while Adam and Eve mourned the loss of their son through murder brought about by sin, a new nobleman (John deliberately sets this character above national, tribal, or ethnic limitations that are otherwise used to identify all other persons in the gospel) receives back his son from the dead (ch. 4). Next, Jesus encounters a man who has been ailing for 38 years (ch. 5), and who can only otherwise be healed by passing through waters that have been divinely disturbed. Interestingly, Moses, in Deuteronomy 2:14, gives the only other reference to the number 38 in all of the Bible, mentioning it as the amount of time the Israelites have been wandering in the wilderness, waiting for the shalom that can come to them only if they pass through the waters of the Jordan River, which will be divinely disturbed in order to make the crossing possible.
In this way John continues to portray Jesus as the new agent of divine redemption, functioning in parallel to the manner in which God dealt with Israel of the Old Testament. Jesus, too, feeds the people of God in the wilderness and tames the raging waters that in the darkness prevent God's people from entering the Promised Land (today's gospel reading). Furthermore, as Isaiah was told about the blindness of the people in his day (Isaiah 6), Jesus contends with similar dysfunctional eyes (ch. 9). And just as Ezekiel had to preach to the dead nation of Israel in order to resurrect it from the grave of exile (Ezekiel 37), so Jesus brings back to life one of his dear friends who has died (ch. 11), symbolizing the ultimate goal of divine grace.
It is only when the seven signs have been published to the world in this manner that the "Greeks" (John's notation for the whole world out there, beyond our tiny Jewish enclave) come seeking Jesus (12:21). Then, immediately, Jesus declares that his hour has come. Why? Because the salvation of God sent to this world (John 3:16-17) has been recognized through the signs and has been received by the world. It has begun to make an impact and the world will never again be merely content with darkness. Dawn is breaking.
Tying together the two miracles of the feeding of the crowds and the stilling of the raging storms, John wants us to think about where our characters are centered. What is it that we desire and what is it that we trust? Those who have characters shaped by their confidence in Jesus know the answer, even if they never really think about it.
Application
The person who will stop at nothing will say yes! to anything! The man who has no limits also has no identity of his own. He robs it from the victims of his cruelties! The woman who doesn't know how to say "No!" will never be able to say "Yes!" to the things in life that matter most. And the child who isn't taught the boundaries of behavior grows up to be an adult without a conscience.
But lines are hard to draw and character is difficult to fashion. Limits are tough to set, especially when society laughs at the pointlessness of it all.
Sometimes it is only through practicing the spiritual discipline that we are taken back to our godly roots, we are set down once more in the company of the great ones of the past, we are reminded of the mastery of God over self, and helped to find our way back home. Our identity is found, at least in great measure, exactly at the points in our lives where we will say no. The Yes! of my life falls precisely within the limits of my No! and fasting will test those limits for me.
Some years ago People magazine interviewed Dolly Parton. At one point the interviewer asked, "Where do you ever get such a strong character?"
Dolly said it came from her family and her Christian faith. "I quote the Bible real good!" she said.
What about psychiatry, asked the interviewer. So many people find the need to get counseling, especially in the stresses of show business.
"No," replied Dolly, "I don't see a psychiatrist. I fast instead."
You what?
"I fast!"
Is that like a diet?
"No!" said Dolly. "I do it to get in touch with God! Sometimes I'll... fast 7, 14, or 21 days... I don't drink nothing but water and I don't ever say when I'm on a fast -- scripture says you're not supposed to" (People, January 19, 1981).
Then she went on to say that she's never made a major decision without fasting and prayer. The interviewer was astounded, so much so that she made a point of it in the article.
Deep character too often surprises us, when we ought instead to crave it and desire it. David forgot this to his peril. Through the soul hunger of Paul's prayer we find again the definition of our characters. In the craving masses seeking Jesus in the wilderness and through the fearful eyes of the disciples on the boat in stormy seas we find out who we really are before God. Says the poet (Edna St. Vincent Millay):
I drank at every vine.
The last was like the first.
I came upon no wine
So wonderful as thirst.
I gnawed at every root,
I ate of every plant.
I came upon no fruit
So wonderful as want.
Feed the grape and the bean
To the vintner and the monger;
I will lie down lean
With my thirst and my hunger.
What does she mean? She means this: That there's a hungering in our souls that food can't fill, there's a thirsting in our spirits that drink can't supply, and sometimes the only way to find out who we really are is to say No! to our appetites, and Yes! to God.
Alternative Application
John 6:1-15. In 1966 evangelist Martin Higgenbottem was one of the main speakers at the Berlin World Congress on Evangelism. He told the gathering that his life of devotion and service had to do with his mother. He remembered coming home from school one afternoon to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a strange man. The fellow was obviously someone who lived on the streets. His clothes were filthy, his hair was slicked with unwashed grease, and his body smelled of a mixture of unkind odors.
But Martin's mother was chatting pleasantly with him while they devoured a plate of sandwiches together. She had gone shopping that morning and found him cold and hungry, so she brought him home with her.
When the man was ready to leave he said passionately, "I wish there were more people in the world like you!"
Martin's mother casually threw the compliment aside. "Oh," she said, "there are! You just have to look for them!"
The man broke down. He shook his head, and tears rolled across his cheeks. "But lady!" he said, "I didn't have to look for you! You looked for me!"
This is a mighty parable in tune with today's gospel reading. Jesus had compassion on the crowds and fed them. Jesus found the struggling disciples on the raging sea. Those who live out of the heart and character of Jesus can certainly hope to do the same.
