RECENT SERMONS

Feeding Five Thousand Homily Preached on Pentecost VII,
July 23, 2006
[John 6:1-21]

“Like Moses’ feeding the people of God in the wilderness with manna (Exod 16) or Elisha multiplying barley loaves for hungry men” (II Kings 4:42-44),*  Jesus feeds the hungry mass of people.  The Interpreter’s One-Volume Commentary describes the situation:

“The moral of the story is that the disciples do not yet believe that Jesus can satisfy the need of so great a multitude from so small an offering.  But the unnamed youth who give his lunch represents all who give what they have, without reservation, into Jesus’ hands, that he may make it expendable for many.  More is left over, even so, than what was offered – twelve baskets – one for each of the 12 disciples.”   [page 716]

Neither the size nor the amount of food offered matters – and in Jesus’ hands even left-overs are pretty good.   A basket for each of us, his present-day disciples.  And that’s today’s secret.

Our new Presiding Bishop was taken to task for her job description for the church offered during a TV interview: “to feed the hungry and heal the sick.”  One priest complained: “She’s reduced the role of the priest to a social worker.”   But Jesus was always concerned about practical things – the needs of people.   +Katharine was upholding Jesus’ vision.  Feeding the hungry and healing the sick is how we become Christ Incarnate! 

An emergency is happening around us.  It is not a time for “business as usual.”  None of us can sustain a “permanent emergency” condition, but as Christians we can’t behave as if nothing’s happening.  Hunger in Africa, Gaza, Java, Lebanon, Iraq, Afghanistan, San Jose, etc., etc., is real.  A parishioner imagined all of us suddenly trapped here in church by an earthquake or war  and – obviously – no food.  Communion wafers won’t fill many tummies, the wine won’t hold out that long.  Frances Banakas – ever thoughtful from her stewardess days – quickly ran water into the altar guild sinks until it stopped running, but no food even possible before noon tomorrow.   After a sleepless night we hear people with food outside the door, but they can’t get in.  You can feel the hunger pains and thirst, the adults keeping water for the children.  That’s happening.  Listen in on Jesus’ conversation that day:

Jesus: “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” 
Philip:  “Six month’s wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.”
Andrew:  “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish.  But what are they among so many?”
Jesus:  “Make the people sit down.” 
“Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them. . .”   Sound familiar to what you’ll hear this morning?  “Our Lord Jesus Christ took bread, and when he had given thanks to you, he broke it, and gave it to his disciples. . .”  The bread we receive here means nothing until we share it out there.    

Kahlil Gibran was from Lebanon.  I’ve known his poems for a long time, several are popular at  weddings.  I always thought they were kind of sweetness and light, but one arrived last week that surprised me.   He wrote this poem during the famine in Syria and Lebanon in World War I.  Entitled, “Dead Are My People,” I think it speaks for all innocent people who are being maimed and killed by the wars in the Middle East.

My people died on the cross. . .
They died while their hands
stretched toward the East and West,
while the remnants of their eyes
stared at the blackness of the
firmament. . .  They died silently,
for humanity had closed its ears
to their cry.  They died because
they placed trust in all humanity.
They died because they did not
oppress the oppressors.  They died
because they were the crushed
flowers, and not the crushing feet.
They died because they were peace
makers.  They perished from hunger
in a land rich with milk and honey.
They died because monsters of
Hell arose and destroyed all that
their fields grew, and devoured the
last provisions in their bins. . .
They died because the vipers and
sons of vipers spat out poison into
the space where the Holy Cedars and
the roses and the jasmine breathe
their fragrance.

Saturday’s “Peanuts” cartoon was so poignant for this sad time.  Linus tells Charlie Brown, “When I get big, I want to be a great philanthropist!”  With a thoughtful look, Charlie Brown
responds, “You have to have a lot of money to be a great philanthropist.”  They kind of look at each other, Linus thinking, then says, “I want to be a great philanthropist with someone else’s
money.”  

That started me thinking: what barley loaves or fish do I have?  At eye-level to the side of my laptop at home sits an Oakland Raiders’ drinking glass filled with my pocket change each day when I return home.  Jill gets the pennies, my glass gets the quarters, nickels and dimes.  I wondered what amount might be there, so I emptied it onto the counter, sorted and counted.  The total was more than thirty-seven dollars (which I held up in a plastic baggy).  Since forty is one of the magic numbers of the Bible, I’m going to round off the amount to $40 for the Episcopal Relief and Development, as my loaves and fishes.   What are yours?  Jesus asked his disciples, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?”  Each of us is that young man Andrew found with five barley loaves and two fish.  Don’t worry about the amount.  In Jesus’ hands. . .

*  Interpreter’s One-Volume Commentary, page 716

Copyright: Ernest W. Cockrell,
7/30/06

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