The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes
(John 6:1-21)
It’s always interesting to me to hear people talk about the Bible. There are few things that seem so
quickly to elevate people to passionate argument than the Word of God.
In fact, it seems that these days, whatever the subject matter, one is almost expected to take one
position or another and stick by it, no matter what. Liberal or conservative. Republican or
Democrat. We often tend to be pretty black and white in our arguments.
Now, this isn’t always a bad thing. For instance, I feel perfectly comfortable using the phrase “Word
of God” as a synonym for the Bible, because reliable authorities much greater than myself have
designated it this way, and it’s proved itself over and over again. And I believe with all of my heart
that, from Genesis 1 to Revelation 22, the Bible is the divinely inspired Word of God.
Having said this, sometimes the conclusions that come from this belief can be a little tricky. For
instance, many in this country think that, if the Bible is the Word of God, then every word of it must
be literally true in the same way a history textbook or a work of journalism is expected to be literally
true. The problem with this is that it vastly underestimates the sophistication of the writers of the
Bible. In the book of Genesis alone there are at least five different literary genres, some of which
are not meant to be interpreted literally. Things like poetry, teaching stories, and, some have
argued, even the divinely guided interpretation of ancient oral traditions.
My reason for pointing this out is to hopefully deflate an argument that’s been used recently against
the story of the feeding of the 5000. It goes something like this: Since we know that some of the
literal teachings of the Old Testament don’t correspond with science, then we can pretty much reject
any of the Bible that seems to collide with modern common sense. And in this way of looking of
things, what’s often rejected are miracle stories.
Sadly, it has become increasingly common to look at the story of the loaves and fishes not as a
miracle story, but as a nice, warm, fuzzy account of how people were so moved by Jesus’ words that
they shared their food with each other. That is, the story has been rationalized, so that it’s not
about a miracle but about Jesus simply stimulating people’s intrinsic niceness.
Journalist H. L. Mencken once said, “A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for
a coffin.” And to me this interpretation reeks of cynicism. After all, does not the Bible urge us all
through its pages to have faith in a God who shows His love for His people through great
supernatural acts on their behalf? By even the most conservative account there are well over 100
miracles described in the scriptures.
I would like to suggest that we forever lay to rest this idea that it wasn’t a miracle that happened by
the Lake of Galilee when the 5000 were fed. After all, John refers to this event with the Greek word
semeion. The most complete and respected lectionary of New Testament Greek defines semeion as
“an event that is an indication of confirmation of intervention by transcendent powers; miracle, divine
portent.” The single best word to use to define what happened is “miracle.”
Now that (I hope) we’ve cleared this up, let’s look at some of what this wonderful story means. To
best do this, it’s helpful to look at some Jewish traditions that would be all too easy for us, in our
context, to overlook. The first is the familiarity that active, observant Jews had with the Old
Testament scriptures. There’s a great story that’s found in the book of Numbers about what
happened when Moses was leading the Israelites through the wilderness, ultimately to settle their
new home in the Promised Land. You may recall that this wasn’t a stress-free time for Moses. It
became very much like trying to herd the largest assembly of cats in history, who suddenly were
having euphoric recall about their time in Egypt. (“Aw, the good old days. We were overworked
slaves laboring under the yoke of Egyptian tyranny, but at least we had leeks, cucumbers and
melons to eat.”) There is some controversy over when the term “Oy vey” originated, but it may have
started with Moses right then and there.
And Moses wasn’t shy about dialoguing with God about this. He said, “Where can I get meat for all
these people? They keep wailing to me, ‘Give us meat to eat!’” OK? “Where’s the beef?” Actually
the Israelites had plenty of beefs. The point is, had Moses at that moment had the faith that God
desired from him, he would have answered his own question. The right answer would have been,
“Lord, you are able to provide.” But God, in His love and mercy, says to Moses, “Tell them the Lord
will give them meat to eat.”
But Moses kept arguing. He said, “Are you serious? There’s 600,000 of those whiners out there!”
And God replied, “Is the Lord’s power limited?” Then he provided the Israelites with huge flocks of
quail that flew in. What they thought was paltry provision suddenly became “poultry provision.”
(Sorry.) So in a sense, Moses didn’t originally pass the faith test, but God graciously provided
anyway.
And now we have Jesus testing Philip in the same way that God tested Moses. I have to think that
Jesus has a little twinkle in his eye as he asks Philip, “Gee Philip, wherever are we to buy bread for
all these people to eat?” And of course the right answer is, “Lord, you are able to provide.” But like
Moses, Philip fails the test. He throws up his hands and says, “Six months wages wouldn’t be
enough to feed all these people.” If this were final Jeopardy I’m afraid Philip wouldn’t be returning to
compete on the next episode.
But we all know what happens next. Once again, lavish grace triumphs even when we don’t quite
get the whole picture of who Jesus is. And that indeed is what this story is all about. It’s about who
Jesus is. There are a few features of this story that provide us with a pretty clear picture. First is
something that once again would be very familiar to a First Century Jew. Within the Jewish family it
was the father’s role to act as the one who provides and blesses a meal. And here Jesus does
exactly this. John tells us that after Jesus said to the disciples, “Make them sit down,” he “took the
loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the
fish, as much as they wanted.” Rod Whitacre writes, “Jesus is clearly in charge from first to last,
having taken the initiative, and now distributing the food himself. He is acting as the father of a
family, but in giving thanks he refers it back to his [own] Father.” So the first thing that this teaches
us about Jesus is that he’s the head of the family.
Second, he’s the one who uses weakness toward good. And this isn’t just a little good, this is a
good way out of proportion to the raw materials he’s given. With two fish and five loaves of bread he
feeds the multitude. Does that ring a bell in any way? If I may be blunt, does not Jesus do the same
with us? We heard Paul say a couple weeks ago that, when he was afflicted with what he called “a
thorn in the flesh”, God told him, “My power is made perfect in weakness.” Really, God majors in
turning weakness into power. He brought forth great people out of women who’d been barren.
He brought the greatest man, the God-man, His own Son, from the womb of a virgin. Paul writes to
the Corinthians, “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak
things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised
things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are…”
In moments when we’re confronted with adversity and with our own weakness, and even with
impossible odds, may we have the faith and the presence of mind to remember God’s great works,
and to trust that He’s not done with these great works in our own lives. In fact the scriptures make it
clear that the best is yet to come.
Third, in today’s great Gospel story Jesus demonstrates his power over nature. The one who
turned water into wine, healed the sick, cast out demons, raised the dead, stilled the waters and
walked upon them, is the same Jesus who, from his bottomless fountain of compassion, takes pity
upon the multitude and sees to it that they’re fed.
The miracles, the semeion, described throughout the New Testament are not fairy tales, myths, or
metaphors, but direct historical evidence that Jesus was and still is who He claimed to be—the only
begotten Son of God, the One through whom the universe was made and who still has sovereignty
over it.
You know, omnipotence can either be good news or bad news. There are many mythological and
religious traditions that depict God or the gods as being supremely powerful, but not necessarily
safe. Think only so far as the Greek or Hindu pantheons, for instance. And our own God is not One
who we can necessarily reduce to comfy little formula upon which we can project all our fondest
wishes.
The Tutons once again watched The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe a week or two ago. If you
haven’t seen it yet, please do! You won’t be sorry. But if you have seen it, you’ll remember one of
the final scenes, in which Lucy is talking with the faun Tumnus about the great lion Aslan, who
clearly represents Jesus in the world of Narnia. As they watch Aslan walking away from them along
the beach, Tumnus reminds Lucy that Aslan comes and goes as He sees fit, and says, “Aslan is not
a tame lion.” To which Lucy, with her innocent, but thoughtful eyes, says, “No, but he is good.”
The story of the Feeding of the 5000 tells us exactly this. Jesus is God incarnate, the one who, with
his feet firmly planted on the earth he created, shows us, as perfectly as it can be shown, the nature
of God. And God’s nature is not simply One who is all-powerful, but One who is all-loving as well. It’
s He who, in his deep compassion, provided bread for the hungry multitude, and it’s He who today
gives the multitudes the bread of life—the bread that will feed us through all eternity.
As each of us encounter daunting situations and steep odds, may we pass the test and trust Him
enough to see him as the loving father of our family, and say, “Lord, you are able to provide.” Amen.
(John 6:1-21)
It’s always interesting to me to hear people talk about the Bible. There are few things that seem so
quickly to elevate people to passionate argument than the Word of God.
In fact, it seems that these days, whatever the subject matter, one is almost expected to take one
position or another and stick by it, no matter what. Liberal or conservative. Republican or
Democrat. We often tend to be pretty black and white in our arguments.
Now, this isn’t always a bad thing. For instance, I feel perfectly comfortable using the phrase “Word
of God” as a synonym for the Bible, because reliable authorities much greater than myself have
designated it this way, and it’s proved itself over and over again. And I believe with all of my heart
that, from Genesis 1 to Revelation 22, the Bible is the divinely inspired Word of God.
Having said this, sometimes the conclusions that come from this belief can be a little tricky. For
instance, many in this country think that, if the Bible is the Word of God, then every word of it must
be literally true in the same way a history textbook or a work of journalism is expected to be literally
true. The problem with this is that it vastly underestimates the sophistication of the writers of the
Bible. In the book of Genesis alone there are at least five different literary genres, some of which
are not meant to be interpreted literally. Things like poetry, teaching stories, and, some have
argued, even the divinely guided interpretation of ancient oral traditions.
My reason for pointing this out is to hopefully deflate an argument that’s been used recently against
the story of the feeding of the 5000. It goes something like this: Since we know that some of the
literal teachings of the Old Testament don’t correspond with science, then we can pretty much reject
any of the Bible that seems to collide with modern common sense. And in this way of looking of
things, what’s often rejected are miracle stories.
Sadly, it has become increasingly common to look at the story of the loaves and fishes not as a
miracle story, but as a nice, warm, fuzzy account of how people were so moved by Jesus’ words that
they shared their food with each other. That is, the story has been rationalized, so that it’s not
about a miracle but about Jesus simply stimulating people’s intrinsic niceness.
Journalist H. L. Mencken once said, “A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for
a coffin.” And to me this interpretation reeks of cynicism. After all, does not the Bible urge us all
through its pages to have faith in a God who shows His love for His people through great
supernatural acts on their behalf? By even the most conservative account there are well over 100
miracles described in the scriptures.
I would like to suggest that we forever lay to rest this idea that it wasn’t a miracle that happened by
the Lake of Galilee when the 5000 were fed. After all, John refers to this event with the Greek word
semeion. The most complete and respected lectionary of New Testament Greek defines semeion as
“an event that is an indication of confirmation of intervention by transcendent powers; miracle, divine
portent.” The single best word to use to define what happened is “miracle.”
Now that (I hope) we’ve cleared this up, let’s look at some of what this wonderful story means. To
best do this, it’s helpful to look at some Jewish traditions that would be all too easy for us, in our
context, to overlook. The first is the familiarity that active, observant Jews had with the Old
Testament scriptures. There’s a great story that’s found in the book of Numbers about what
happened when Moses was leading the Israelites through the wilderness, ultimately to settle their
new home in the Promised Land. You may recall that this wasn’t a stress-free time for Moses. It
became very much like trying to herd the largest assembly of cats in history, who suddenly were
having euphoric recall about their time in Egypt. (“Aw, the good old days. We were overworked
slaves laboring under the yoke of Egyptian tyranny, but at least we had leeks, cucumbers and
melons to eat.”) There is some controversy over when the term “Oy vey” originated, but it may have
started with Moses right then and there.
And Moses wasn’t shy about dialoguing with God about this. He said, “Where can I get meat for all
these people? They keep wailing to me, ‘Give us meat to eat!’” OK? “Where’s the beef?” Actually
the Israelites had plenty of beefs. The point is, had Moses at that moment had the faith that God
desired from him, he would have answered his own question. The right answer would have been,
“Lord, you are able to provide.” But God, in His love and mercy, says to Moses, “Tell them the Lord
will give them meat to eat.”
But Moses kept arguing. He said, “Are you serious? There’s 600,000 of those whiners out there!”
And God replied, “Is the Lord’s power limited?” Then he provided the Israelites with huge flocks of
quail that flew in. What they thought was paltry provision suddenly became “poultry provision.”
(Sorry.) So in a sense, Moses didn’t originally pass the faith test, but God graciously provided
anyway.
And now we have Jesus testing Philip in the same way that God tested Moses. I have to think that
Jesus has a little twinkle in his eye as he asks Philip, “Gee Philip, wherever are we to buy bread for
all these people to eat?” And of course the right answer is, “Lord, you are able to provide.” But like
Moses, Philip fails the test. He throws up his hands and says, “Six months wages wouldn’t be
enough to feed all these people.” If this were final Jeopardy I’m afraid Philip wouldn’t be returning to
compete on the next episode.
But we all know what happens next. Once again, lavish grace triumphs even when we don’t quite
get the whole picture of who Jesus is. And that indeed is what this story is all about. It’s about who
Jesus is. There are a few features of this story that provide us with a pretty clear picture. First is
something that once again would be very familiar to a First Century Jew. Within the Jewish family it
was the father’s role to act as the one who provides and blesses a meal. And here Jesus does
exactly this. John tells us that after Jesus said to the disciples, “Make them sit down,” he “took the
loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the
fish, as much as they wanted.” Rod Whitacre writes, “Jesus is clearly in charge from first to last,
having taken the initiative, and now distributing the food himself. He is acting as the father of a
family, but in giving thanks he refers it back to his [own] Father.” So the first thing that this teaches
us about Jesus is that he’s the head of the family.
Second, he’s the one who uses weakness toward good. And this isn’t just a little good, this is a
good way out of proportion to the raw materials he’s given. With two fish and five loaves of bread he
feeds the multitude. Does that ring a bell in any way? If I may be blunt, does not Jesus do the same
with us? We heard Paul say a couple weeks ago that, when he was afflicted with what he called “a
thorn in the flesh”, God told him, “My power is made perfect in weakness.” Really, God majors in
turning weakness into power. He brought forth great people out of women who’d been barren.
He brought the greatest man, the God-man, His own Son, from the womb of a virgin. Paul writes to
the Corinthians, “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak
things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised
things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are…”
In moments when we’re confronted with adversity and with our own weakness, and even with
impossible odds, may we have the faith and the presence of mind to remember God’s great works,
and to trust that He’s not done with these great works in our own lives. In fact the scriptures make it
clear that the best is yet to come.
Third, in today’s great Gospel story Jesus demonstrates his power over nature. The one who
turned water into wine, healed the sick, cast out demons, raised the dead, stilled the waters and
walked upon them, is the same Jesus who, from his bottomless fountain of compassion, takes pity
upon the multitude and sees to it that they’re fed.
The miracles, the semeion, described throughout the New Testament are not fairy tales, myths, or
metaphors, but direct historical evidence that Jesus was and still is who He claimed to be—the only
begotten Son of God, the One through whom the universe was made and who still has sovereignty
over it.
You know, omnipotence can either be good news or bad news. There are many mythological and
religious traditions that depict God or the gods as being supremely powerful, but not necessarily
safe. Think only so far as the Greek or Hindu pantheons, for instance. And our own God is not One
who we can necessarily reduce to comfy little formula upon which we can project all our fondest
wishes.
The Tutons once again watched The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe a week or two ago. If you
haven’t seen it yet, please do! You won’t be sorry. But if you have seen it, you’ll remember one of
the final scenes, in which Lucy is talking with the faun Tumnus about the great lion Aslan, who
clearly represents Jesus in the world of Narnia. As they watch Aslan walking away from them along
the beach, Tumnus reminds Lucy that Aslan comes and goes as He sees fit, and says, “Aslan is not
a tame lion.” To which Lucy, with her innocent, but thoughtful eyes, says, “No, but he is good.”
The story of the Feeding of the 5000 tells us exactly this. Jesus is God incarnate, the one who, with
his feet firmly planted on the earth he created, shows us, as perfectly as it can be shown, the nature
of God. And God’s nature is not simply One who is all-powerful, but One who is all-loving as well. It’
s He who, in his deep compassion, provided bread for the hungry multitude, and it’s He who today
gives the multitudes the bread of life—the bread that will feed us through all eternity.
As each of us encounter daunting situations and steep odds, may we pass the test and trust Him
enough to see him as the loving father of our family, and say, “Lord, you are able to provide.” Amen.
The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes
John 6:1-21
John 6:1-21
July 26, 2009
The Rev. Jane Ross,
Deacon
The Rev. Jane Ross,
Deacon
 |
| |
 |
| |
 |