Lessons From A Picnic
Sermon
Changing A Paradigm -- Or Two
Gospel Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (First Third) Cycle C
There are certain biblical stories that are so well known that most of us could tell them from memory. The Gospel story for today is a case in point. It is the only miracle story that appears in all four Gospels, and in two of them, namely Mark and Matthew, the story is actually told twice, in two separate accounts.
But my fear is that we may know the story so well that we actually don't know the story at all. Make sense? I mean, sometimes we know the story line so well that we don't take time to think about what is really going on. The story loses some of its punch and power if we miss the tremendous subtleties it contains.
Let me show you what I mean with a small mental quiz. First, what was the body count that day, counting men only, since that seemed to be the practice of the day? Second, what was on the menu for the picnic? And third, how many leftovers were there and what small country would it feed today?
The answers, of course, were: 5,000; bread and fish, twelve baskets full, and you pick the country of your choice. How many got them all right? Now, can you tell me what those answers really mean for our faith?
I think I've made my point, so let's take a look at this story in fresh light. First, let me note a few subtleties, before we get to the real messages for us today from this feeding of the masses. The story begins with Jesus hearing the report of the apostles he had sent out. Luke 9 begins with Jesus giving them power and authority and sending them out to preach the Kingdom of God and to heal. Verse 10, right before our story, reads: "On their return the apostles told Jesus all they had done. He took them with him and withdrew privately." And when the crowds found out about it, they followed him and, according to Luke's telling of the story, he welcomed them, spoke to them of the Kingdom of God, and healed those in need. When it got late in the day, the disciples wanted to send the people away so they could buy food, but Jesus would have none of that. Somehow, five loaves and two fish appear from the crowd. This was standard fare for poor people -- bread and salted or pickled fish. And note, please, where they got them. Someone brought them forward to share. Many believe that was the real miracle that day -- that someone who had was willing to share with those who had not. The disciples, however, have real doubts about how many that meager amount will feed. "We have no more than five loaves and two fish," they lament, "unless we are to go and buy food for all these people."
Now we have an important subtlety that many miss. Jesus instructed the people to sit down, according to our translation, although a more accurate one is that he told them to "recline." Why is this significant? Well, in the ancient world, common meals were taken sitting, or even standing. But at a feast or a banquet, the people reclined on couches, symbolizing freedom and leisure. Here, at Jesus' banquet, even though it takes place in an open field and not a banquet hall, the people, men, women, and children, are told to recline like the free and noble persons they have become because of Christ.1 They have become a people of dignity, because they have been gathered and fed by the Messiah, Jesus the Christ. Important subtlety, don't you think?
Jesus then turns to the doubting disciples, probably standing off to the side grumbling about the masses and what was to happen, and tells them to distribute the food. That command, "You give them something to eat," is reminiscent of Jesus' command at another miracle where he brought Lazarus, his friend, back from death, and as Lazarus waddles out wrapped in all the grave clothes, Jesus commands those around him, "You untie him." This command to participate in the miracle is an important one, and I'll come back to it in a second. Let me finish the narrative with three more observations of things not so subtle in the story, but often overlooked.
First, note the action of Jesus when he took the loaves: he looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them for distribution. It doesn't take a liturgical genius to see in those actions a rehearsal of the Last Supper, and a model for communion actions ever since. Today is the celebration of Corpus Christi, the feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord, the feast of our very existence. We bless and thank God for receiving us and feeding our hunger. We recall that we now are the body of Christ. We hear Christ's command to be now, blessed and broken and shared, all done in his memory.2
Second, did you notice how many baskets were left? Twelve. Who do you think collected those? Probably the disciples -- one basket for each doubter; each basket loaded down with visible evidence of God's grace more than sufficient for the need; one basket for each of the twelve tribes of Israel; each basket symbolizing the abundance of grace for all of Israel in and through this Jesus of Nazareth.
And finally, note the numbers involved in this feeding. Luke says there were 5,000 men and Matthew's account adds the qualifier to that number, "not including the women and children." Conservative estimates put the crowd that day at between 20,000 and 30,000 people. One commentator I read claims that that figure represents ten percent of the population of Palestine. Jesus showed his compassion and his grace through this miracle for what has been called a "representative tenth" of all Israel.3 This was a significant event, in other words.
Well, there is obviously more in this miracle story than meets the eye. The quick run-through of the narrative was my attempt to show that. Each of those items I mentioned could have been a sermon in and of itself, but I think there are two messages in this story that stand out for me, and that is what I'd like to concentrate on in the time we have left.
The first has to do with the essence of a miracle story. What is a miracle according to Scripture? Well, miracles are nothing more or less than our participation in the all-sufficient power of God. You see, miracles are not so much God "doing something for" someone, as they are the accounts of ordinary people, like you and me, participating with God's activity in the world in a way that changes those involved. Certainly feeding 30,000 people is a miracle. But maybe the real miracle was about sharing what one has with those who have not. Maybe the real miracle was the opportunity for those present to see how God in Christ is able to provide for human needs in a way that no one else can. The bread and fish were only means to that end.
And so, if that is our working definition, participation in the all-sufficient grace of God in Christ, then Jesus' command to his disciples takes on even more importance. When he said to his doubting followers, "You give them something to eat," he is saying to all who would follow him that we are involved with him in daily ministry. Our task is not to be the spectacular, but to be open to participate with Christ in the everyday -- just like giving bread and fish to hungry people, just like finding ways to serve Christ in all that we do.
You see, once we discover Christ where we live and work and have our being, once we realize that Christ is acting like a worker in our acre of God's world, a heavy responsibility rests on us. For Christ's activity to bear fruit, we have to work with him. For his crucifixion to change human hearts, to change our culture, he needs his Christians; he needs you and me. Our privilege and our burden are twofold: to be conscious of the Christ who labors for us in all creatures and to collaborate, to labor with Christ in simply everything we do.
That is one of the major lessons of this miracle story -- the disciples took what Jesus gave them and in his name gave it to others. And he is at work in the same way in and through us -- in spite of our doubts, our confusions, our failings. We are his co-workers in the gospel, in bringing healing and wholeness, life and love, into other's lives.
The second message of this story is no less important. The feeding of the 5,000 serves as a model, a paradigm, for all Christian ministry. More than just an enormous picnic happened in the hearts and minds of the people there that day. Something at the very heart and soul of the Christian faith was disclosed. Simply put, call it the "economics of Jesus."
Whatever we have, no matter how small, has potential when placed in the hands of God, to grow beyond any humanly-defined limits. Notice Jesus does exactly what the disciples do not do: he doesn't fret or moan or despair over just having "five loaves and two fish." He simply takes them. Jesus wants what the disciples consider inconsequential, in light of the huge need of people, brought to him. And what is the first thing he does? He lifts them to heaven and gives thanks, of all things. He doesn't ask God why there isn't more or complain about insufficient resources. He exalts that which appears meager. Such is the power of God even to this day.
Millard Fuller, founder and driving force behind Habitat for Humanity, an international ministry that builds homes with the poor on an interest-free basis, met with a group of potential Habitat builders in Georgia a number of years ago. The group was enthusiastic but tentative, as starting a Habitat affiliate and building homes is a highly capital-intensive enterprise -- especially when you don't charge any interest on the mortgage.
Before Fuller arrived, several members of the group huddled around a pocket calculator, running the numbers on how much would be needed to get going, and they decided nothing could be done without at least 6,000 dollars in the bank to dig the footings and frame up the house. After that, the group would have enough time to raise funds to carry on the next phase of the project. You could guess, when Fuller walked into the room, what the first question was: "Millard, we're very excited about starting an affiliate in our town, but we've only raised 3,000 dollars and must have 6,000 dollars before this thing can fly. What do you think?"
He leaned over and looked at the group with a seriousness that only money talk among Christians can muster. After a moment's silence, he said: "Let me tell you something very important. Listen carefully. The whole future of what you are about to do rests on what I am about to say. It would be absolutely reckless and irresponsible and injudicious for you to start your Habitat affiliate without having at least one dollar in the bank. To start with anything less would be ludicrous."
The group laughed nervously. Fuller waited to let what he said sink in, then he explained: "Habitat is founded on the economics of Jesus, which was manifested in the feeding of the multitudes. Here it is. You take what you have and you give thanks for it and then give it to the Lord to be blessed. Then you step out in faith. Pagans need money in the bank before they start something, not Christians. You take the first step ... and watch God provide, sometimes in ways you will never imagine."4
That's the message in this miracle story for us today, the lessons from a picnic, if you will. Where Christ is present with us, we have the opportunity to participate in the power of God in this world. God, and only God, has the power to change lives -- to lead us to share when the world teaches us to grab; to have compassion when the world encourages us to turn our backs with deaf ears; to give it away when the world expects us to hoard; to be participants in God's all-sufficient grace by being his hands and feet.
Mark Allen has written about this miracle: "Divine creativity is limited only by our capacity to accept it, to trust it, and to be willing instruments of its unfolding. Such is the heart and soul of faith."5
To which I say a resounding: Amen!
____________
1. Linda M. Maloney, Pentecost 2, Proclamation 5 (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1993) p. 18.
2. Anne Marie Sweet, Homily Service, Vol. 28, No. 3 (Silver Spring: The Liturgical Conference, 1995) p. 44.
3. Maloney, p. 18.
4, Mark F. Allen, Homily Service, Vol. 29, No. 5 (Silver Spring: The Liturgical Conference, 1996) pp. 10-11.
5. Ibid.
But my fear is that we may know the story so well that we actually don't know the story at all. Make sense? I mean, sometimes we know the story line so well that we don't take time to think about what is really going on. The story loses some of its punch and power if we miss the tremendous subtleties it contains.
Let me show you what I mean with a small mental quiz. First, what was the body count that day, counting men only, since that seemed to be the practice of the day? Second, what was on the menu for the picnic? And third, how many leftovers were there and what small country would it feed today?
The answers, of course, were: 5,000; bread and fish, twelve baskets full, and you pick the country of your choice. How many got them all right? Now, can you tell me what those answers really mean for our faith?
I think I've made my point, so let's take a look at this story in fresh light. First, let me note a few subtleties, before we get to the real messages for us today from this feeding of the masses. The story begins with Jesus hearing the report of the apostles he had sent out. Luke 9 begins with Jesus giving them power and authority and sending them out to preach the Kingdom of God and to heal. Verse 10, right before our story, reads: "On their return the apostles told Jesus all they had done. He took them with him and withdrew privately." And when the crowds found out about it, they followed him and, according to Luke's telling of the story, he welcomed them, spoke to them of the Kingdom of God, and healed those in need. When it got late in the day, the disciples wanted to send the people away so they could buy food, but Jesus would have none of that. Somehow, five loaves and two fish appear from the crowd. This was standard fare for poor people -- bread and salted or pickled fish. And note, please, where they got them. Someone brought them forward to share. Many believe that was the real miracle that day -- that someone who had was willing to share with those who had not. The disciples, however, have real doubts about how many that meager amount will feed. "We have no more than five loaves and two fish," they lament, "unless we are to go and buy food for all these people."
Now we have an important subtlety that many miss. Jesus instructed the people to sit down, according to our translation, although a more accurate one is that he told them to "recline." Why is this significant? Well, in the ancient world, common meals were taken sitting, or even standing. But at a feast or a banquet, the people reclined on couches, symbolizing freedom and leisure. Here, at Jesus' banquet, even though it takes place in an open field and not a banquet hall, the people, men, women, and children, are told to recline like the free and noble persons they have become because of Christ.1 They have become a people of dignity, because they have been gathered and fed by the Messiah, Jesus the Christ. Important subtlety, don't you think?
Jesus then turns to the doubting disciples, probably standing off to the side grumbling about the masses and what was to happen, and tells them to distribute the food. That command, "You give them something to eat," is reminiscent of Jesus' command at another miracle where he brought Lazarus, his friend, back from death, and as Lazarus waddles out wrapped in all the grave clothes, Jesus commands those around him, "You untie him." This command to participate in the miracle is an important one, and I'll come back to it in a second. Let me finish the narrative with three more observations of things not so subtle in the story, but often overlooked.
First, note the action of Jesus when he took the loaves: he looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them for distribution. It doesn't take a liturgical genius to see in those actions a rehearsal of the Last Supper, and a model for communion actions ever since. Today is the celebration of Corpus Christi, the feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord, the feast of our very existence. We bless and thank God for receiving us and feeding our hunger. We recall that we now are the body of Christ. We hear Christ's command to be now, blessed and broken and shared, all done in his memory.2
Second, did you notice how many baskets were left? Twelve. Who do you think collected those? Probably the disciples -- one basket for each doubter; each basket loaded down with visible evidence of God's grace more than sufficient for the need; one basket for each of the twelve tribes of Israel; each basket symbolizing the abundance of grace for all of Israel in and through this Jesus of Nazareth.
And finally, note the numbers involved in this feeding. Luke says there were 5,000 men and Matthew's account adds the qualifier to that number, "not including the women and children." Conservative estimates put the crowd that day at between 20,000 and 30,000 people. One commentator I read claims that that figure represents ten percent of the population of Palestine. Jesus showed his compassion and his grace through this miracle for what has been called a "representative tenth" of all Israel.3 This was a significant event, in other words.
Well, there is obviously more in this miracle story than meets the eye. The quick run-through of the narrative was my attempt to show that. Each of those items I mentioned could have been a sermon in and of itself, but I think there are two messages in this story that stand out for me, and that is what I'd like to concentrate on in the time we have left.
The first has to do with the essence of a miracle story. What is a miracle according to Scripture? Well, miracles are nothing more or less than our participation in the all-sufficient power of God. You see, miracles are not so much God "doing something for" someone, as they are the accounts of ordinary people, like you and me, participating with God's activity in the world in a way that changes those involved. Certainly feeding 30,000 people is a miracle. But maybe the real miracle was about sharing what one has with those who have not. Maybe the real miracle was the opportunity for those present to see how God in Christ is able to provide for human needs in a way that no one else can. The bread and fish were only means to that end.
And so, if that is our working definition, participation in the all-sufficient grace of God in Christ, then Jesus' command to his disciples takes on even more importance. When he said to his doubting followers, "You give them something to eat," he is saying to all who would follow him that we are involved with him in daily ministry. Our task is not to be the spectacular, but to be open to participate with Christ in the everyday -- just like giving bread and fish to hungry people, just like finding ways to serve Christ in all that we do.
You see, once we discover Christ where we live and work and have our being, once we realize that Christ is acting like a worker in our acre of God's world, a heavy responsibility rests on us. For Christ's activity to bear fruit, we have to work with him. For his crucifixion to change human hearts, to change our culture, he needs his Christians; he needs you and me. Our privilege and our burden are twofold: to be conscious of the Christ who labors for us in all creatures and to collaborate, to labor with Christ in simply everything we do.
That is one of the major lessons of this miracle story -- the disciples took what Jesus gave them and in his name gave it to others. And he is at work in the same way in and through us -- in spite of our doubts, our confusions, our failings. We are his co-workers in the gospel, in bringing healing and wholeness, life and love, into other's lives.
The second message of this story is no less important. The feeding of the 5,000 serves as a model, a paradigm, for all Christian ministry. More than just an enormous picnic happened in the hearts and minds of the people there that day. Something at the very heart and soul of the Christian faith was disclosed. Simply put, call it the "economics of Jesus."
Whatever we have, no matter how small, has potential when placed in the hands of God, to grow beyond any humanly-defined limits. Notice Jesus does exactly what the disciples do not do: he doesn't fret or moan or despair over just having "five loaves and two fish." He simply takes them. Jesus wants what the disciples consider inconsequential, in light of the huge need of people, brought to him. And what is the first thing he does? He lifts them to heaven and gives thanks, of all things. He doesn't ask God why there isn't more or complain about insufficient resources. He exalts that which appears meager. Such is the power of God even to this day.
Millard Fuller, founder and driving force behind Habitat for Humanity, an international ministry that builds homes with the poor on an interest-free basis, met with a group of potential Habitat builders in Georgia a number of years ago. The group was enthusiastic but tentative, as starting a Habitat affiliate and building homes is a highly capital-intensive enterprise -- especially when you don't charge any interest on the mortgage.
Before Fuller arrived, several members of the group huddled around a pocket calculator, running the numbers on how much would be needed to get going, and they decided nothing could be done without at least 6,000 dollars in the bank to dig the footings and frame up the house. After that, the group would have enough time to raise funds to carry on the next phase of the project. You could guess, when Fuller walked into the room, what the first question was: "Millard, we're very excited about starting an affiliate in our town, but we've only raised 3,000 dollars and must have 6,000 dollars before this thing can fly. What do you think?"
He leaned over and looked at the group with a seriousness that only money talk among Christians can muster. After a moment's silence, he said: "Let me tell you something very important. Listen carefully. The whole future of what you are about to do rests on what I am about to say. It would be absolutely reckless and irresponsible and injudicious for you to start your Habitat affiliate without having at least one dollar in the bank. To start with anything less would be ludicrous."
The group laughed nervously. Fuller waited to let what he said sink in, then he explained: "Habitat is founded on the economics of Jesus, which was manifested in the feeding of the multitudes. Here it is. You take what you have and you give thanks for it and then give it to the Lord to be blessed. Then you step out in faith. Pagans need money in the bank before they start something, not Christians. You take the first step ... and watch God provide, sometimes in ways you will never imagine."4
That's the message in this miracle story for us today, the lessons from a picnic, if you will. Where Christ is present with us, we have the opportunity to participate in the power of God in this world. God, and only God, has the power to change lives -- to lead us to share when the world teaches us to grab; to have compassion when the world encourages us to turn our backs with deaf ears; to give it away when the world expects us to hoard; to be participants in God's all-sufficient grace by being his hands and feet.
Mark Allen has written about this miracle: "Divine creativity is limited only by our capacity to accept it, to trust it, and to be willing instruments of its unfolding. Such is the heart and soul of faith."5
To which I say a resounding: Amen!
____________
1. Linda M. Maloney, Pentecost 2, Proclamation 5 (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1993) p. 18.
2. Anne Marie Sweet, Homily Service, Vol. 28, No. 3 (Silver Spring: The Liturgical Conference, 1995) p. 44.
3. Maloney, p. 18.
4, Mark F. Allen, Homily Service, Vol. 29, No. 5 (Silver Spring: The Liturgical Conference, 1996) pp. 10-11.
5. Ibid.
