The Rev. Allan Sandlin, associate rector> click here for the Scripture for the day
2 Kings 4:42-44
John 6:1-21
So, here's the thing. I'd already written a decent introduction to this sermon. It was all about pot-luck dinners. I had in mind all the great church suppers I've experienced in my life and I'd come up with mouth-watering descriptions of some of them, just to get you thinking about food. Because one theme running through this morning's lessons is an abundance of food.
I was all set to talk about how the disciples couldn't figure out how they were going to feed all those people. They were worried and anxious, they just knew that five loaves of bread and two fish wouldn't last long no matter how frugally they divided the portions.
But Jesus confounded their timid expectations and provided an extravagant, abundant feast. Everyone went home with full bellies: no one went hungry.
But two things kept interrupting my thinking about that sermon. As much as I love this story, and I do love the story of the feeding of the 5,000, I couldn't let go of the fact that it's not the only story in this morning's gospel. Every time I just about settled down with the feeding of the 5,000, the image of Jesus walking on the water kept coming back into my head.
That's one thing. The other reason I gave up on the pot-luck supper sermon is that I kept thinking about you. Not that we haven't enjoyed some delicious meals together here at Holy Trinity. But I was thinking about the adult forum last Sunday morning out in the narthex and the concern in your voices over the sudden and tragic deaths of two parishioners.
And I was remembering those who are facing surgery and the one who just finished another round of chemotherapy. I was conscious of those of you who've lost a parent or a brother or a spouse in the past few months. I was thinking about my friend who just lost his job and others who are worried about their jobs.
And then I went back to the gospel. And I thought about those disciples. Those disciples who were, after all, not so very different from us. They were worried about running out of resources, they were scared of what they might lose, and even with Jesus standing right in front of them, they could not see the hope, the vision of how he was making all things new.
It's right there in the text, how they responded when Jesus tested them. Knowing full well what he had in mind to do, Jesus asked Philip, "Where on earth are we going to get enough bread to feed all these people?" Well, Jesus knew where that bread would come from. He knew because he was going to provide the bread, he was going to bless that bread and, at least in John's version of the story, he was the one who would take each morsel of bread and put it into the outstretched hands of those hungry, fearful people.
Of course, in John's gospel, Jesus himself is the bread. But you'll have to come back next Sunday for that.
And it wasn't just the disciples who were running scared. Take a look at the reaction of the crowd who showed up for the picnic. After they'd eaten their fill and after the 12 baskets of leftovers had been gathered up (because Jesus, being the captain of the Green Team, didn't believe in letting anything go to waste), they were stunned. They were impressed. One of them said to his friends, hey, he looks a lot like that old prophet Elisha did when he provided food for our great-grandparents. Maybe they'd been reading from the same Hebrew Scripture we read this morning.
At any rate, they were all set to make Jesus king because they thought that he could take care of their needs. But they jumped to the wrong conclusion. We know it was the wrong conclusion because of Jesus' reaction. He wanted no part of it. So he just slipped away while they were setting up the throne and polishing the crown.
The people thought they'd found a king who was so mighty, so powerful that he would deliver them from all their troubles, he would take away their loneliness and their heartbreak and cure their illnesses. Everything would be glorious and bright and shining and most of all, they'd all be happy. That's the kind of king they thought they needed. That's who they wanted Jesus to be for them. They were terrified of the reality of life, of the messiness and unanswerable questions and the senselessness that they kept bumping up against. I think that's why they wanted to make Jesus king. And who can blame them?
My friend Bob was born with hemophilia. As he was growing up, every single day, his parents feared for his life. Every time he fell, or got a small scrape or cut, they knew it could cause him to bleed badly. From his early childhood forward, he needed transfusions regularly and he wore braces on his legs. He spent weeks and months in and out of the hospital. His parents loved and cared for him and I don't doubt that they prayed to God for a cure, for answers to their questions about the unfairness of this disease.
In the late 70s, back before the nation's blood supply was more carefully screened, Bob contracted HIV through one of those transfusions. Miraculously, for reasons that I think are still uncertain, he never developed AIDS. Later on, he came down with Hepatitis C. And it was the hepatitis that began to destroy his liver.
Bob and his wife Anne live and work in Boston. Seven years ago his doctors in Boston placed him on the waiting list to receive a new liver. Ten times during those years, they were called to the hospital when it seemed possible a liver would become available. Ten times they went home with Bob still sick.
Then came a phone call from a doctor at Emory University Hospital saying that if Bob was willing to be part of a highly unusual procedure for transplantation, they could offer him some help. Bob said yes.
About a month ago now, the doctor called and told Bob and Anne to keep their bags packed and 3 weeks ago, the doctor called again and said come. A new liver could become available any time now, he said.
On Wednesday night of the week they arrived in Atlanta, they came over to dinner at our house. They were full of questions for us about the time in 2002 when I received my own new liver. Gretchen and I shared stories with them about those last months leading up to the transplant. They listened to us talk about how sick I became while waiting. And they heard Gretchen offer hope through her descriptions of our life together post-transplant.
It was a wonderful, luminous evening. On the way out the door, Anne said "Wouldn't it be something if the phone call came tonight?" And it did.
And now a little over two weeks later, Bob has his new liver. His body is learning how to live with this new organ and he's doing very well. He's out of the hospital and beginning to move out into the world-having dinner with friends, talking to his children on the phone, anticipating visits from his parents, enjoying some very hearty meals.
Here's the most amazing thing: his new liver gives him the same hope I now enjoy for a longer life. But having a new liver also means he no longer has hemophilia. For the first time in his life, he doesn't have to anticipate the next transfusion or worry quite so much about nicks on his chin when he shaves.
Every time I see their faces now and hear their voices, I sense their overwhelming gratitude for the gift God has given them. And it's all about extravagance and abundance, overflowing joy...
Here's another story of God's abundant grace. You may have heard that the General Convention of the Episcopal Church took place in Anaheim, California last week. Lots of us thought it would be another messy, contentious meeting, with angry voices and loud protests, with strong differences of opinion on the matter of human sexuality. Instead, the stories we heard were mostly about people pulling together, respectful of their differences and eager to get on with the work of the gospel.
For instance, before Convention began, the bishops and deputies were handed the proposed three-year budget for the Church that included cutting out all funds for the Millennium Development Goals. But they responded by not only restoring the 0.7% to the MDGs but they added another 0.7% to help fight domestic poverty. Funds may be scarce in the coming triennial, but our Church has said this is something God calls us to do, to risk, to spend our money on.
The Convention also passed two resolutions that bear witness to where we are as a Church with respect to the ministry of gay and lesbian people. While clearly reaffirming our commitment to the Anglican Communion, these resolutions also affirm the presence, the ministry and the witness of gay people in our midst.
The Episcopal Church has been here before. Just as God broke down the walls
that kept black people and white people in the 1950s and 60s from worshiping together... just as, in the 1970s and 80s, God broke down the walls that kept women from serving on the vestry or as chalice bearers or as preachers and priests, I believe God is breaking down these walls. And that is good news.
This good news points toward God's unexpected, generous grace in over-flowing baskets, reversing our expectations of scarcity. Dispelling our suspicion that there just isn't enough love and trust and respect to go around, to help us make it through the night...
Back in the 6th chapter of John's gospel it was sometime after sunset, the crowds had all gone home and the disciples had gotten tired of waiting around for Jesus. They were eager to get back to Capernaum and so they got into a boat and started rowing across the lake. You had to know things were not going to go smoothly, out of the Sea of Galilee in the middle of the night, without Jesus.
Sure enough, the waves start splashing in over the sides of the boat, the wind is howling. Maybe it was Philip who held his lantern up high over his head to help them see better. They couldn't believe their eyes. There came Jesus, walking on the water. And then, the scripture tells us, then they were terrified.
I wonder. What is it that terrifies you this morning? What worries you and keeps you awake at night?
You know, Jesus isn't the kind of king who'll be coming to the rescue. However, he will do with us what he did with the disciples. If we're paying attention, we'll recognize he's already in the boat with us and he'll see us all the way home.
And he's bringing along some bread for the journey. He's still feeding people with that life-giving, deeply satisfying bread. There's more than enough to go around and it's the only bread that we really need. It's food that sustains, food that nourishes and it's right here, right now, free for the taking.
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