Occasion
This is a homily for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost, July 26, 2009, based upon the day’s gospel, John 6:1-21.
Prayer
Let us pray…
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)
Homily
John’s gospel washes over us,
filling our eyes with sights
and our ears with sounds.
From the first verse,
where the apostle begins
with words that sound
almost like lyrics,
we hear and see Jesus.
He is the Word,
God himself present among us.
He is living light
shining in the darkness.
He is pure, creative speech
embodied in a man,
the Son of the Father.
Soon after John the Baptist
declares Jesus to be the Lamb
alive with the Spirit,
two men approach Jesus,
curious about him and wondering
whether to become his disciples.
He invites them to find out: “Come and see.” (John 1:39, NRSV)
They will soon see and hear for themselves.
John uses the word “sign”
to point to the acts of Jesus
that reveal him to the world
as the Word, as God in the flesh.
And the signs are amazing.
Jesus turns water into wine
at the feast celebrating the wedding at Cana.
He heals the sick son
of a royal official in Capernaum.
He cures a man who was unable to walk
for thirty-eight years.
These are the signs
that stir the crowds in amazement
and send the people following
after Jesus, as our reading tells us:
“A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick.” (John 6:2, NRSV)
They are dazzled by the light,
filled with wonder and curiosity
—perhaps some skepticism and doubt—
and abuzz with speculation
about what is really happening
with this man who is God’s Word enfleshed
and walking in their midst.
The big question
for them—and for us—
is what to make of the signs?
What does it mean
that this rabbi turns water into wine,
dismisses a child’s sickening illness,
and makes whole a man’s withered limbs?
What is going on with the world
when Jesus can receive five barley loaves and two fish,
give his Father thanks,
break the loaves and fishes,
and share the meal with thousands,
so that all who eat are satisfied,
and twelve baskets of leftovers remain?
What is happening with this man
when he can walk on water
in the midst of rough seas and strong winds
and by his presence
calm the fears of seasoned fishermen?
We can answer these questions
by saying that
whatever happened then
with water and wine and fevers and limbs,
with loaves and fishes and waves and wind,
happens now to us, in our midst,
with baptismal water and word,
with Eucharistic bread and wine,
with restorative oil and hands and prayers.
This is a true answer.
The Word of God who became flesh
and dwelt amid his people
in ancient Palestine,
who was lifted up on the cross in glory
like Moses’ desert serpent,
is the same Word
who encounters us today.
He washes over us in baptism,
making us children of God
who enjoy life in his light.
He becomes one with us
in the flesh of bread
and the blood of wine
so that we may share
his life with the Father in their Spirit.
He soothes us with peace and wholeness
through the touch of oil and hands
and the words of prayers for healing
so that we may know
the blessings of rest and restoration.
These are the signs that Jesus
shares with us,
his acts that show us God.
There isn’t really any hidden God,
no secret and veiled true God
out there or up there somewhere
beyond our sight and out of earshot.
These signs show us God himself
and tell us the truth that he embodies in Jesus Christ.
That’s why John the evangelist
ends his opening hymn to the Word
by saying:
“And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14, NRSV)
So when we see and hear the Word,
when we walk in the light of the Son,
when we listen to his words
and see his signs in our lives,
we are living in the presence of God
just as the disciples were.
This is what we know to be that fullness of truth.
This is what we trust in our lives as that fullness of grace.
But even so, we still can be filled with wonder,
bothered by doubts,
plagued by spirits of fear.
In this way,
we’re not much different from the disciples.
Philip had seen Jesus’ signs,
the turning of water to wine,
the healing, the restoration to wholeness.
But when Jesus said,
“Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” (John 6:5b, NRSV),
Philip answered from the darkness of his doubt:
“Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” (John 6:7, NRSV)
We can hear our own voices echoing Philip’s reply.
When have we faced circumstances
where God asks us how we might respond
in faith, trusting that grace and truth,
living in the light and walking in the Word?
He asks, and then we respond,
not from faith, but from fear,
seeing only the limits and blockages before us.
And so we say to God:
“We probably need to be realistic. Times are tough. People are busy. Let’s not set ourselves up for failure by asking one another for action and commitment when we know the answer will be ‘no.’”
No matter what the situation,
we like to tell ourselves
that attitudes like this
are mature, responsible, and clearheaded.
But in truth,
they are reactions of fear
more than they are responses of faith.
And the Word for us is just what it was
for the disciples clinging desperately
to any handhold in the small fishing boat
tossed by the wind and waves on the Sea of Galilee.
The Word for us is the Word himself,
Jesus Christ, in the flesh,
coming to us and giving himself to us,
and saying, “It is I; do not be afraid.” (John 6:20, NRSV)
And when he speaks,
his words come in waves washing over us
with the power of the Spirit
to touch us and to change us.
And then,
just as water became wine,
and sickness became health,
and lameness gave way to wholeness,
and loaves and fish were multiplied,
our fear becomes faith
in the Lord of loaves and fishes. Amen.