Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | July 28, 2024

John 6:1-21

The Gospel of John provides an interesting balance to the story of Jesus in Mark. In Mark, the early followers of Jesus believed he was coming back soon. In Mark, the story of Jesus is quick. Get the word out because there’s not much time.

But Jesus didn’t come back so soon. Other stories of Jesus were written. In Matthew, the story of Jesus is told with the sense of, “this is what it means to be his follower.” In Luke, the emphasis is on what his followers need to do.

Then there is the Gospel of John. John was written fifty to eighty years after the time of Jesus. It would be like folks in our time looking back at World War Two. Time gives added meaning. John hints at the idea that Jesus returned in Spirit; that he is present in the world in and through his followers, the Church.

Whenever I read a story about Jesus in the Gospel according to John I am reminded of surrealism as a style of artwork. If something is described as surreal it’s a way of saying it has a dreamlike quality. We could read today’s text as if someone were describing a dream they had. The way to grasp the story is not to offer rational explanation, but to ask what these dreamlike images and sequences may be saying to us. And it presents the question, have you ever been guided by a dream?

The story begins at the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberius. Which was it? It depends on who was telling the story. The body of water referred to is actually a lake; sometimes called Galilee, or Tiberius, or Kinneret, or Gennesaret, depending on who you asked. Places tend to be named by the people who assume ownership; the people who have the power to claim ownership.

Tiberius was a city built by the Romans on the shore of the lake. It was a place of learning and culture and its mention in the story of Jesus tells us that by the time John’s version came along, the influence of Greek culture was spreading. The Romans were the military power and they built roads and cities, but the Greeks were better at philosophy and the arts.

By now in the story large crowds have taken to following Jesus. Not so long ago it seemed he was sitting in a candle lit room talking to the Pharisee Nicodemus in the dark of night. There he was alone but for the company of a woman by a well. Now he can’t seem to get away from the crowds.

But why would want to avoid them? Isn’t our aim the more the merrier? This crowd was described as a crowd of 5000 people. In those days 5000 was also the number of soldiers in a Roman legion. That sort of crowd can be both effective and dangerous, depending on the purpose to which the crowd turns.

The Festival of the Passover was near. This was a time for crowds to be in Jerusalem. Why then were so many following after Jesus?

The storyteller tells that they saw the signs that Jesus was doing for the sick. The “sick” would be the unclean and the outcasts, perhaps like many in the crowd. They would not find a place of welcome in the Temple courts of Jerusalem where the unclean, outcast and poor were shut out by the religious power structure. So why not follow Jesus and see what he had to offer?

Jesus went up on a mountain and sat down with his disciples. Symbolically the mountain was the place closer to God. Moses went up to the mountain; the poet of the psalms looked to the mountains for God as a source of help. With his back to the mountainside Jesus could see the crowds making their way to him. What might he have on offer?

He decided to test his followers and he picked Phillip for some questions. The first time we met Phillip in the story he knew all about what the bible said. He saw in Jesus the one about whom Moses and the prophets wrote.

So Jesus asked him, “Where are we going to buy enough bread for all these people to eat?”

That’s a loaded question. Wait a minute – aren’t we jumping to conclusions here? Who said anything about feeding this crowd? Why is it suddenly our responsibility? There’s not a baker in Tiberius who could bake up that much bread on short notice! Jesus, you’re talking about the impossible and even if we found a storehouse full of bread it would take six months wages to buy enough.

And so it is that when Jesus challenges with the impossible, his followers often respond:

It’s not our responsibility, so we can just leave it alone.

The task is too big, so whatever we do won’t be enough.

We don’t have the money, for that at least.

I look back to when I lived in Clarion, Iowa. In the late eighties there were migrants from Texas and parts south who were moving north to work in industrial farming operations. They were not welcomed with open arms. I was running the food pantry and the community was good about supporting it, from a distance. We always had plenty of food to share, but the other pastors in town were hands off because I had to go and open my big mouth; by telling them you really shouldn’t spray Lysol on people who come into your building for food.

I lived across the street from the church, so people knew where I lived and would come to door looking for food. One day a guy showed up and as we walked over to the church, I noticed he was wearing plastic sandals; cheap plastic sandals of the kind you might find at a dollar store. That’s all he had. But he was going to work and get the money to buy some work shoes.

As more people moved north, it became clear that there were bigger issues than giving people food. There were people in town who were contracting with the farming operations to bring workers north and taking a huge cut of the worker’s wages for the privilege of the job. There were apartments to rent, but the landlords wouldn’t show them to migrants. One day I sat down with a woman who had the local paper and as she called the listed numbers and spoke in her accent, she was told that the unit was no longer available. But the same add would appear the following week.

Some of the “new folks in town” started attending the church where I was the pastor. It had occurred to me to invite them as I would invite any new people in town. Again, even there in the congregation they were not welcomed with open arms.

Jesus asked his followers where they would find the resources to meet the needs of the people. I began to see that the needs of the people included all the people, not just the migrants. We had to address the needs of the community into which they were moving – always the question, what does this mean for us as followers of Jesus?

It’s an easy thing to “tell people what they need to do.” But if the telling is tinged with, “If you know what’s good for you, like I know,” then the chances of any action are slim. What could we do? Not just what should we do, but what could we do; what’s the least we could do? What are we good at, something that is part of who we are and how could we translate that into an action that people could embrace?

Iowans seem to be especially good at eating. Community meals were a big thing in Clarion, Iowa. Everything from church suppers, potlucks, pancake breakfasts and pork feeds were what that town did very well.

We decided that we would have a meal. Meals tend to be non-threatening, for the most part. We would call it a “Community Fiesta” and we would invite everyone in town to come. People were used to that. We would raise money for the cost of the meal. But there was a twist – we would ask people in the migrant community to cook the food that they would typically serve when inviting people into their home. Only not so spicy hot.

Jesus said to his followers, “Make the people sit down.”

That is what we did. We took out an ad in the paper and invited the people of the community – long-time residents and newly-arrived – to come and sit down together. To break bread, to share a meal, to create community.

People came. Not the whole town, but enough people showed up to the church yard where tables were laden with food so that a new community began to take shape. Before we ate I and one of the guys from the migrant community led folks in prayer. I prayed in English and Reynaldo prayed in Spanish. Different languages, but the same prayer for what was now one community.

The crowds wanted to make Jesus their king, but he would not have it. His mission was not about power and prestige. His mission was and is a matter of the heart and soul; discovered in something as simple as a meal. You wonder who many people in that crowd made new friends.

Of all the things I ever did in Iowa, making sure people had enough to eat was a start. But getting folks to sit down and share a meal together was what I would wish my legacy to be. Today all these years later there are two authentic Mexican restaurants in that town. When people are willing to share, the task at hand is not about how much money it will cost, but what we will do with all the leftovers. Amen.