Sunday 27 July 2008 - Divine Disclosure

This sermon is based on the gospel reading for today's second service: John 6:1-21

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Divine Disclosure

One of the resources that I used for studying this week’s Gospel text suggested teaching children the story of the feeding of the 5000 and Jesus’ walking on water by teaching them the difference between magic and miracles. They even came up with this rap rhyme – which is probably too lame for many children, but since I’m middle-aged, I’m quite happy to recite it![1]

Strings of coloured scarves
people sawn in halves
mirrors, wands and cards…
…magic!

Vanishing balloons,
bendy forks and spoons,
rides on witches brooms…
…magic!

Disappearing cots,
Rabbits out of hats,
Anything like that’s…
…magic!

Candles, corn and flowers,
stories by the hour,
miracles of power…
…Jesus!

Hands that heal and care,
God’s love and truth to share
with people everywhere…
…Jesus!

Hungry people fed,
fish and loaves of bread,
risen from the dead…Jesus!

Especially in their younger years, it makes sense to teach children about the difference between ‘magic’ and ‘miracles’.

But today, I want to offer an adult version of this ‘magic versus miracles’ lesson. I hope it won’t frighten you too much, but I want to use a theological word: theophany. Theophany means an appearance of God to humanity, it means a divine disclosure.

John’s account of these two well-known bible stories – the feeding of the 5000 and Jesus walking on water – are accounts of divine disclosures. Both of these stories are theophanies. Yes, both of these events are miracles, but if with think that the main point is simply to say ‘Jesus performed two extraordinary miracles, therefore he must be the Son of God’, we miss out on many layers of richness in the stories. What’s important isn’t so much that Jesus performs miracles as what these miracles say about who he is.

You could make the argument that all of John’s Gospel is devoted to theophany – to divine disclosure. John is the evangelist who makes the direct connection for us that the person who has seen Jesus has seen the Father. John is the evangelist who reports Jesus as saying that he and the Father are one. John’s Gospel is devoted primarily to the revelation of Jesus as the Messiah and the Son of God. So, I think it’s fair to say that this Gospel is devoted to divine disclosure – to theophany.

So what do these stories say about who Jesus is? How do they disclose to us the nature of Jesus beyond his ability to perform miracles?

Many Clues

There are actually a number of images in these two stories. First of all there are two typical Johannine images: Jesus as the bread of life and Jesus as the light of the world.

In John’s version of the feeding of the 5000, it is Jesus himself who distributes the bread and the fishes. Unlike the other Gospels, John’s story is not so much about Jesus asking his disciples to feed the world as it is about demonstrating that Jesus is the one who is the source of nourishment for humanity. Jesus is the bread of life.

And then there is the story of Jesus’ walking on water. Did you notice that, in John’s story, Jesus does not invite Peter to walk on the water with him? Perhaps the most significant details of this particular story are the darkness and the disciples’ fear.

Jesus – the light of the world – comes into the darkness and sheds the light of his presence. It’s almost a fairy-tale ending, with everything turning out alright in the end, but not before the disciples experience a lot of fear and doubt. Where has Jesus gone? When will he come back to us? Can we be sure that he will return to us? Is this really him? Important questions for the disciples in the boat, important questions for the early church and important questions for us today. And Jesus answer to them and to us is: ‘Do not be afraid’.

Jesus as the Mosaic Prophet

And there is yet another divine revelation in this story. Jesus is the latter-day prophet who stands in the tradition of Moses. With his reference to the feeding of the 5000 as happening at the time of the Passover, John makes explicit what is implicit in the other accounts of this story: That this feeding is connected with Yahweh’s provision of manna to the people of Israel in the desert. And the crowd acknowledges this when they say: ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’

And then just in case we fail to be hit in the head with all the obvious symbolism of Jesus’ Messiahship, John – like Matthew and Mark – gives the story of Jesus’ walking on water. A kind of upside-down version of the crossing of the Red Sea. Including Jesus identification of himself as ‘I am’ – translated here as ‘It is I’.

The problem, of course, is with the people’s conception of what it meant to be the Messiah and Jesus’ understanding of Messiahship. The people wanted to turn Jesus into an earthly King and a conquering hero, so Jesus was forced to withdraw to an isolated spot. Jesus knew that his kingdom would have no followers and that it would wield no earthly power. Jesus’ triumph was going to be achieved by dying rather than by killing. A kingship, as Paul said, that would foolishness to both Jew and Gentile alike. Jesus’ upside-down Messiahship is another divine disclosure: about who God is and what his values are.

Conclusion

I think these two stories provide for us a number of pictures of God’s disclosure of himself.

God is a God who holds a banquet and who wants to provide generously for all people, whether that provision seems easy and God-given or whether it needs to be made through the obedience of his disciples.

God is a God who comes to us in the ordinary things of life – bread and fish and bread and wine. And not just these things, of course, but as the Jewish prayers of blessing remind us, God is present in all things.

The God who originally declared his covenant with the people of Israel has declared in Jesus his covenant with all people and for all time.

And finally, God is a God who knows that human beings are sometimes afraid. He knows that we sometimes feel bereft of him as if we were alone in a storm in a small boat in the dark. And he says to us ‘Do not be afraid’. Sometimes his voice can seem feint, but it is a firm promise as well as an invitation.

This is the same God who we meet in the bread and the wine at the Lord’s table. May he be with us now in the ordinary things of his creation. Amen

[1] From Roots Children and Young People, Sunday 27 July 2003, p. 18

Sunday 12 August 2007 - The Authority of Jesus

Today's sermon is a narrative sermon based on Matthew 21:23-32

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If you ask me, the really big trouble started when Jesus entered into Jerusalem in the manner of the Messiah and then proceeded to knock over the tables of the money-changers in the Temple. Both of these activities were a direct slap in the face to the Chief Priests, the servants of that traitor Herod.

Of course, no one is going to ask me, seeing as I’m a woman…

I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced. My name is Esther; I was – still am – a disciple of Jesus. Oh, not one of The Twelve, you understand, but I spent a great deal of time following Jesus around and listening to his teachings during his lifetime.

I was a young widow, you see. My husband had been killed in an accident just weeks after we were married. No-one wanted me after that. I was bad luck, they said. Cursed. My choice was to rely on charity or, well…I don’t even want to think about the other alternative.

When I was at my lowest, I met Jesus and the crowd of disciples following him. They willingly made me part of their community, took care of me and even encouraged me to contribute to their work.

It’s no exaggeration to say that Jesus and the crowd of his disciples saved me, and I don’t just mean in a literal, physical way, although they did that too. I didn’t become a disciple of Jesus just for the charity, you see. Jesus touched my heart. He was talking of renewal: of the renewal of the people of God and of individuals. A New Creation.

And, as his followers during his lifetime, we were living that renewal, proclaiming the good news of God’s love and regard for people like me: the poor, the captives and the outcast. We were actually changing peoples’ lives as we told them the good news that they matter to God and that God has a plan for them.

Anyway, enough about me. I was talking about that day in the Temple.

Jesus had knocked over the tables of the money-changers, which enraged the Chief Priests and Elders. You see, the High Priest is the ultimate authority in the Temple and no one has the right to challenge the way things are done in the Temple except the Messiah. Jesus even quoted Isaiah, implying that the Temple was his house.

So, it wasn’t surprising that the Chief Priests wanted to know how it was that Jesus thought he had the right to do these things.

Did Jesus think that he was doing these things by God’s authority? That’s the question I think that they really wanted to ask him. Of course, they didn’t think that Jesus had God’s authority; they seemed to think that Jesus was fooling himself, or maybe even that his authority came from Satan.

So Jesus said to them: I was baptised by John. Where do you think that John got his authority?

Well, obviously, the Chief Priests didn’t think that John’s baptism was from God, but they could hardly say that in front of all of us and in front of the crowd in the Temple! On the other hand, if they acknowledged that John’s baptism of Jesus had been blessed by God’s Spirit, then they would have been acknowledging Jesus’ authority as Messiah. So they were caught between a rock and a hard place.

You could tell that Jesus’ answer made them angry. This upstart rabbi from Galilee, standing against the rightfully appointed Priests of the Lord, claiming in deed if not in word to be the Messiah. This country bumpkin had got the upper hand by answering them – the sophisticated Jerusalem experts – in a superb, probing, rabbinic form.

There was tension in the air. You could cut it with a knife. We all wondered at the time whether Jesus wanted to get himself killed.

But Jesus didn’t stop there! In for a penny, in for a pound, he began to tell a parable about two brothers. For everyone who knew Jesus – whether his supporters or his enemies – it was obvious who the two brothers represented. It’s people like me – and worse, tax collectors and prostitutes, Samaritans and thieves – who are like the first brother. The one who actually went out and worked for the father even though he said that he would not.

Why was it obvious, you ask? Well, because Jesus had spent so much of his time associating with those of us who the religious authorities didn’t consider worthy enough to worship God.

It’s not that Jesus didn’t have time for the so-called holy people. He talked with them, debated with them and he accepted their hospitality. If the authorities had repented, Jesus would have willingly taken them into his Kingdom too. It wasn’t a simple role-reversal that Jesus was after. He wasn’t trying to exclude the priests and elders from the Kingdom of God the way that they excluded us.

It’s just that Jesus also did have time for the rest of us – the discarded people of society. Jesus showed us that we matter too. He’s demonstrated to us that God has faith in us and that God values us. Jesus told us that we too are beloved children of God and that God wants us to be part of his Kingdom too!

Jesus showed us that repentance really is possible for everyone. That a person can never fall so low that God won’t forgive him.

Of course, the second son represented the Chief Priests and Elders. The one who gives every appearance of being his father’s faithful servant but who then doesn’t act on his promise. That was another big slap in the face to the religious authorities. You can see why they began to think about getting Jesus out of the way.

Of course, all that was many years ago. And as the years have gone by, Jesus’ parable about the two brothers comes back to me every now and then.

At the time that Jesus told it, I saw myself clearly as the first brother. I was, after all, a widow, a discarded woman, someone branded cursed and unlucky but Jesus’ disciples took me in and made me part of their family.

As I’ve grown in the Lord, though, I’ve sometimes found myself acting or thinking like the second brother – the one who acted righteous but didn’t actually do his father’s will. I suspect that all people of faith have found themselves in the same position at one time or another.
I’ve also come to see that sometimes the church itself acts like this.

It’s not a comfortable thing to see, of course. But I think that this is the way that the Lord helps both the church and his individual disciples to grow.

God wants us to proclaim his good news both as individual believers and as a church. Through the death and resurrection of Jesus, all of humankind is offered the kind of second chance that I was offered. When the church lives and functions at its best, it can offer to the world a tiny glimpse of God’s New Creation.

God’s good news is that, in the New Creation, all people are to be invited to his wedding feast; not just invited guests but also those in the highways and the byways. The rich and the powerful, the poor and the vulnerable, all are invited to the table of the Lord.

Sisters and brothers, I see that you will soon come before the table of the Lord. Before you do, I invite you to give thanks to the Lord that you have been included in his celebration feast. I also invite you to think about how you as a church can proclaim the good news to the world in which you live…the good news of the Lordship of Christ and of God’s extravagant generosity toward all of humankind.

Amen