Sermon for 11th Pentecost
For You
By The Rev. Eric Christopher Shafer -
Jesus seems to like surprises. At least that is how St. John’s Gospel sees Jesus.
Today’s Gospel lesson continues a series of lessons from John chapter 6, lessons that I like to think about in terms of our sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion. And surprises.
In today’s text Jesus encounters a crowd and surprises them with what he says. This is the same crowd who Jesus has just fed in the Feeding of the 5,000. And now, the crowd seems to be caught off guard, surprised, even upset by what Jesus is saying. And they do not appear to like what Jesus is saying either.
It started with that miraculous feeding, which is not too bad of a way to be surprised: to get a free and unexpected dinner when you are hungry. But, right after that miracle, Jesus vanished, leaving the crowd behind feeling rather confused and disappointed. And so they follow Jesus, finding him, finally, on the other side of the lake as today’s text tells us.
And from here on out, things only seem to get worse.
First, Jesus accuses them of opportunism: “Ah, you’re only here because you want another free meal,” he scolds. And, truth be told, he was probably right. But Jesus is not content with being merely right, and so, to rub it in a bit, Jesus goes on with his lecture: “Do not work for the food that spoils,” he persists, “instead, work for the food that lasts for eternal life.”
Well, that gets their attention. Sounds pretty good – a little suspicious, maybe, but tempting all the same. “Okay,” the crowd says, “we’ll go with you on this one - what kind of work do we have to do to get this food?”
“Just believe,” Jesus says, “just believe that I am the one God sent.” At this point the crowd balks, wondering just who in the world this guy thinks he is. After all, let’s be clear about what Jesus is offering. I mean, he’s holding out the shinny apple, the first prize: Jesus is offering the bread of life – you know, the food of myth and legend, the nectar of the gods, the stuff which grants life eternal.
And so, the crowd is skeptical, and who wouldn’t be?
It is a little like this: Suppose you have a terminal illness and you have resigned yourself to that fact. Then one day your the doctor tells you the latest tests suggest it might be something else altogether, something more treatable. I mean, you want to believe it, this surprise for the better, more than anything in the world. But, what if they’re wrong, these well-intentioned people who have surprised you with good health news? What if they are just plain wrong?
This, in a nutshell, is what is so hard about the gospel and the sacraments, Holy Communion and Baptism. For they come into our lives, disrupting the neat order we’ve arranged, and surprise us, even shock us, by making these audacious promises of life and wholeness.
On a day-to-day basis, most of us have gotten pretty good at defending ourselves from the pain and frustration and hurt and despair of life in this world. And then these promises of God are announced to us and they only betray the foolishness of our self-reliance and, at the same time, promise us more than we could have ever hoped for.
Think about it: at Baptism we pour water over an infant’s head and announce to her God’s promise to be with her forever, to go with her wherever she may go, to hold on to her through all that life has to offer – including even death – and to grant her life eternal. And that is some promise.
And exactly the same happens in Holy Communion, the Lord’s Supper. For each time you come to the Table you are promised nothing less than forgiveness, acceptance, wholeness: in a word, life, both now and forever.
And the thing about all this – about forgiveness and acceptance and the like – is that such things, as we know, just cannot be gained or earned, coerced or accomplished. Like love, these things can only be given as a gift by one to another. In this case, they are free gifts from God to us.
Communion and baptism are God’s external and objective words of love and forgiveness, given in a form which we can receive, water, bread and wine. The sacraments are God’s physical, visible words for God’s physical, visible people.
And the thing is, just as with Jesus’ words to the crowd, such a promise is as frightening as it is comforting, for such a promise raises hopes and expectations to dizzying heights.
Thus, St. John reports that the people naturally ask, “what miracle will you perform so that we may see it and believe you?” In other words, “Prove yourself, Jesus.” And my, but doesn’t that sound familiar, for how much easier faith would be if God would just do what God’s supposed to do and give us a sign, give us a miracle.
But God, you see, our God rarely does what God is supposed to do. For our God is a God of surprises, of upheavals, of reversals.
And so rather than do what God is supposed to do, God does the unexpected: instead of pronouncing judgment in the face of our sin and selfishness, God offers mercy; instead of justice, love; instead of condemnation, forgiveness; instead of coming in power, God came in weakness; and instead of giving us a miracle, God gives us God’s own self.
Martin Luther often stated that the whole of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection are summed up both succinctly and eloquently in the two words we hear when coming to the communion table: “for you.” This is Christ’s body, given for you. This is Christ’s blood, shed for you.
This is the heart of our faith as Christians – Jesus Christ who was with God and is God from the beginning and participated in the creation of the heavens and the earth is the same Lord who cares so desperately for us that he gave his life for ours on the cross and gives himself still in the bread and wine.
Perhaps this, in the end, is the hardest thing of all for us to accept about the sacraments: that they contain God’s unexpected, surprising, unforeseen gift of God’s own self. For, as we have already said, we can defend ourselves against much of the pain, and disappointment, and grief of this life. But, against this gift, against God’s surprising and disarming love, we are helpless, just as God’s promise comes to us again at the communion table just as it did when as helpless babes we were brought to the baptismal font.
Forgiveness and mercy for you and for me. That is the surprising, audacious, somewhat startling, and ultimately life-giving promise given to us by God through Jesus Christ which we mark in the sacraments.
And that is also Christ’s invitation to us in worship, to come to not only hear God’s unexpected word of forgiveness and mercy, but also to take and eat and share it.
So, come and receive the surprise of your lives. For those who come to Christ will never be hungry, and those who believe in Christ will not thirst.
Those who come to Christ will never be hungry and those who believe in Christ will never thirst. This is Christ’s body, given for you. This is Christ’s blood, shed for you.
Nothing less than forgiveness, acceptance, wholeness for you. In a word, life, now and forever. For you.
Amen.
(With thanks to the Rev. Dr. David Lose).
The Rev. Eric Christopher Shafer
Senior Pastor - Mt. Olive Lutheran Church
Santa Monica, California
Sunday, August 4 & 5, 2018
