FINDINGS II
Proper
13- B - August 2, 2009
John 6: 24-35
(Exodus
16: 2-4, 9-15; Psalm 78: 23-29; Ephesians 4: 1-16)
 By Harry T. Cook
7/27/09
RUBRIC
With this coda to the multiplication-of-the-loaves narrative
we find ourselves enmeshed in a ham-fisted interweaving of disparate texts.
There exist data to suggest John 6:1-14 -- in essence the feeding story -- was in
wide circulation at least from the time of Mark who included two separate
versions of it, one with the figure 5,000 with 12 baskets left over and the
other with 4,000 with seven baskets left over. In the first version, Mark has
Jesus get into a boat following the feeding. In the second, Jesus goes by some
means to Bethsaida. In the Matthean version, his disciples depart the scene in
boat and Jesus joins them later after a stroll across the waves. In Luke, the
crowds are fed and the story ends.
What we are to take from the textual mish-mash and the
contradictions is the fact that the story, however told and with whatever ending,
if any, is a powerful narrative that became central to the early church's
understanding of itself.
WORKSHOP
The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) omits from the narrative
vv. 22 and 23 of John 6, which constitute a kind of low-grade mystery about how
those of the ever-present crowd thought Jesus got from one side of the lake to
the other, their having seen that the disciples had gone alone in the only available
boat. The inference is invited to the effect that Jesus made the journey by
some supernatural means. That would have meant nothing unusual to John in that
he established his theology from the beginning as he, or his editors, were
careful to stipulate that the Jesus who lived and moved and had his being in
real life was the universal force of intelligence (logos) in possession of a
human being.
He or she who struggles with this text should stop and
ponder what seems to be a key word in it. It occurs at v. 23, which churchgoers
will not hear in the reading of the gospel at liturgies this coming weekend --
unless some scripturally alert celebrant or deacon includes the RCL's omission,
which would be appropriate. The word is a Greek one: "eucharistaysantos" -- as
in "The Lord had given thanks."
Is it an oblique reference to the shape of the early
Eucharistic liturgy - and to the shape of the contemporary one as well?
John puts Jesus in a de-bunker's role when at v. 26 when he
depicts Jesus telling the crowds that they were seeking him only because they
had eaten their fill of the bread he had produced. He said they should have
been seeking "signs." What signs? Such as those mentioned at 2:1-11 (Cana) and
at 5:1-9 (in Jerusalem)?
If it is true that people who tended to be attracted to
Jesus or figures like him were those among the poor and destitute, one can see
why they followed him from place to place perhaps hoping for another free
lunch.
This is the point at which the theologians show up and spoil
everything. John has Jesus admonish his admirers not to "labor for the food
which perishes, but for food which endures to eternal life" (6:27).
Referenced at this point is the scene depicted in the Exodus
reading of this proper, which in a way presages the scene in the gospel: the
Israelites are tired, hungry and annoyed. They have been led into the
wilderness away from Fat City where they had bread to a place where they do
not. Yahweh is depicted as intervening by raining down bread from on high,
saving Moses and Aaron from possible lynching. Next morning: a flaky substance.
The people say, "Mah-nu" -- as in "What is this?" Hence, manna. It was, in
fact, a naturally occurring, tasty and nutritious substance excreted by
insects. (Don't miss the connection with the responsory meant to follow the
Exodus reading: Psalm 78: 23-29.)
The Israelites might have said to Moses the same thing the
crowd is depicted as saying to Jesus: "Lord, give us this bread always." John's
Jesus is made to say that he himself is that bread or sustenance critical to life.
HOMILETIC COMMENTARY
I accuse John or some later editor of a bait-and-switch in
the coupling of the feeding narrative with the post-feeding story. The former
by itself lays out a humanist response to human need: people are hungry either
through their own poor planning or because they have no regular access to food.
The only humanist and humane response is to do all in one's power to give them
to eat.
In my early retirement, I am keeping a promise made many
years ago to a fellow priest -- now deceased -- to become a counselor at a
church-based social service agency he founded and of which I have been supportive
for many years. In that counselor position I meet people from the central city
of Detroit who range from poor in the extreme to destitute beyond belief -- to
whom something so simple as a bottle of water and a sandwich means the
difference between severe thirst and well-nigh unbearable pangs of hunger.
Even though there are a few identifiable Christian symbols
displayed, and those in an unobtrusive manner, here and there in our building,
the staff and volunteers are composed of persons of different religious
affiliations and of none. When people come to us for the simplest of needs --
food, clothing, bus tickets to get them from place to place, help with needed
prescriptions or obtaining replacements for stolen identity cards -- we are
interested in them only as individuals and meeting those legitimate and
legitimated needs. Off the waiting area there is a small apse that, to a
religiously oriented person, could appear to be a chapel. People can go in
there or not. Stand. Sit. Kneel. Whatever.
Our Sunday soup kitchen is open to all between noon and 3
p.m. with no questions asked. The only requirement of those who come is to be
considerate of others, to be sober and otherwise not anti-social. No one asks
them what they believe or whether they believe. Our concern is to give them
bowls of hearty soup, sandwiches and fresh fruit to go with their coffee or
tea. Most Sundays of a year, volunteers from individual congregations prepare
and serve the food. No sermons given. No commitments asked.
Mah-nu? What is it?
As a dear friend of mine says, "It's what we do."
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