Who knew?

Pentecost 10 August 5, 2012

      There is a lot of confusion in the scriptures cited for this day.  Confusion and not knowing.  From the reading from Exodus where we hear that the people don't know God and even less do they know what he's sent to feed them with---because it is not like any other bread they’ve known they call it “manna,” which, in Hebrew literally is a question: “What is it?”  They don’t know, but they apparently ate it---even without knowing exactly what it was or how it could be food---it sustained them just the same.

      The story tosses off a point that is maybe an important clue, a solution or answer to the question of, “what is this?” in the fact that the stuff couldn’t be saved up and stored for use at a later time.  Some people ignored the directive to just collect enough for that day, only to find the stuff they tried to store for later, had maggots in it and it smelled bad.  God, who revealed himself to be “I am, who was, who is and who will be,” wanted the people to trust him for their daily bread.  The people knew God could free them from slavery to Pharaoh, but could God take care of their daily needs?  They don’t know.

      Several hundreds of years later, they STILL don’t know as the crowds following Jesus continue to worry about the same sort of things.  Jesus and the disciples, having fed everyone, go back across the lake.  But the crowd, apparently not wanting to let go of a good thing, go looking for him.   They seem to have a sense of entitlement or ownership of this bread-maker Jesus, as they demand to know, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” Jesus accuses them of only wanting to fill their bellies again when they should be working for “imperishable,” or spiritual food. They’ve received both food for their bellies and food for their hearts, their souls---but they are unaware.  
     Then the people take up Jesus’ comment, and want to know what kind of work they should be doing that would be pleasing to God and so, presumably, to get imperishable food. Are they still imagining something like an imperishable, i.e., never-ending, free lunch? 

     Jesus answers that the only “work” that matters is trusting in the one God sent. It is another way of getting at the same thing God was trying for with those early Israelites in the desert, that the people would come to know God and trust God to meet their needs---not only the physical ones, but also the spiritual ones---which carries the implication that they actually have spiritual needs they seem unaware of.  Again, they don’t know.    
      Then the people ask for a sign like Moses did by providing the ancient Israelites with manna (which is kind of interesting, since Jesus has just fed 5000 of them!)  Jesus points out that it wasn't Moses who provided the manna.  It was God and it has been God all along, and God will continue to be trustworthy in this way.   But the people still don't get it.
      Finally they impatiently demand this bread Jesus is talking about.  Jesus responds that he  himself is the bread.  They don't have to make Temple sacrifices, refer to covenant or law---Jesus, in his own person, makes access to God freely available.  If you want a relationship with God that will nurture you, body and soul, that relationship begins with a relationship with Jesus, the One sent by God.  We can only guess at their response to this proclamation.
     The two groups of people, those from the first reading in the desert with Moses---and these out in the wilderness with Jesus---have at least a couple of things in common.  First of all, they do not yet know who God is, even when God is feeding them, or standing in the midst of them working miracles.  Another striking thing is that neither group of people have the sense to be grateful.   Another is their general behavior is the same, both before and after getting their bellies filled:  They are complaining, insulting, demanding, fearful, controlling and did I say demanding? One might imagine they’d be grateful, but if they are, nothing is said about it.   Maybe, they just don’t know enough to be grateful.  In all of these ways, the people of God haven’t changed much---they are just like us. 
     The wonderful, beautiful thing about this is, somehow---that’s okay.  We are, like the Prodigal Son, forgiven before we even have the sense to ask.  We are the ungrateful, the tormentors, the deserters, the shrill uncaring crowd---we are those for whom Jesus prayed with his dying breath:  “Father, forgive them, for they know not---they do not know what they are doing.”  There is no condemnation, just God’s persistent, tireless, steadfast love that will not, will never give up on us---that seeks out and finds us, feeds and protects us, even from ourselves.  Through John’s gospel, Jesus stands for God when he identifies himself: “I am,” the Bread of Life, I am the Resurrection, I am the Good Shepherd.  In Jesus, God wants us to know---to finally and fully know---that Jesus reveals God’s own self clearly so that all people may have access to God.  Or, if we go all the way back to the first chapter of John’s gospel, we can see the goal is that all people can become “children of God.”
      We  also have a part to play in this real-life drama across the centuries.  We are invited to share in Christ’s table, in the Holy Communion where Jesus is at once our gracious host and also the meal, the very Bread itself.  He not only invites us to be his guests at his Supper, he sends us out---in turn---to be living bread according to his example, making the world a little better place for those we encounter.
     A story is told about a business executive who was so disillusioned by the demands of his job and the pressures of working in a difficult environment that he had just about given up trying to live up to Jesus' example in his daily life.   But, one morning while getting ready for work, the man promised himself that he would try very hard to bear witness to Jesus in his words and actions---at least on that one day.
     A few minutes later, he set out to catch the train into work. The man thought he had left home in plenty of time, but by the time he’d stood in line and bought his ticket, he realized that he was running late and would have to hurry to catch the train. Charging across the lobby, he bounded down the last few steps just as he heard announced overhead, his train was about to leave the station. In a mad dash to catch the train, the businessman bumped into a small child carrying a jigsaw puzzle.  Pieces scattered everywhere. The man paused, saw the child in tears, and looked again at the train doors that were about to close.  With an inward groan, he walked toward the child, smiled, and bent down to help him pick up the puzzle pieces.  As he did, the train pulled out of the station. The child, who had by now stopped crying,  watched the man intently as together they picked up all the pieces.  When the last piece had been placed safely inside the puzzle box, and box closed,  the little boy looked up at the man, and asked, hesitantly, "Mister, are you Jesus?"
     Are you Jesus? The question caught him off-guard.  But thinking about it, he realized that for that moment, in that place, with that child, under those circumstances, through his actions he had, indeed, been Jesus.¹    And, even in spite of himself, he’d also kept his promise that day.
     May it be so for you and for me---if not on this day, then SOME day—in some moment, in some place, with this or that person, under those circumstances, through your actions, you will, for sure, be Jesus.  Even in spite of yourself.

1.      Louis W. Accola. Given for You: Reflections on the Meaning of the Lord's Supper (Lutheran Voices) (p. 66). Kindle Edition.