John 6:1-21
Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.”
Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus 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. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”
——
In her book Pastrix, Nadia-Bolz Weber tells the story of the time she decided to plan a full-blown Rally Day celebration for her small, alternative congregation in Denver, Colorado.
What she wanted was to gather all the members of her congregation together at one time, after being scattered over the summer. She wanted to bring energy to her then-new mission start of a congregation.
And so she bought a bunch of hamburgers and chips. And rented a cotton candy machine. And had high hopes for a party of sixty or seventy or more folks following worship.
Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias. A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples. Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get a little.” One of his disciples, Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” Jesus said, “Make the people sit down.”
Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus 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. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.”
——
In her book Pastrix, Nadia-Bolz Weber tells the story of the time she decided to plan a full-blown Rally Day celebration for her small, alternative congregation in Denver, Colorado.
What she wanted was to gather all the members of her congregation together at one time, after being scattered over the summer. She wanted to bring energy to her then-new mission start of a congregation.
And so she bought a bunch of hamburgers and chips. And rented a cotton candy machine. And had high hopes for a party of sixty or seventy or more folks following worship.
Twenty-six people showed up for worship and the picnic.
She reflects, “Everyone was in a good mood except me. The extra burgers were cooked up, wrapped in foil, and later given to hungry people in Triangle Park. Every car that rolled up to the stop sign by the church was offered a cone of cotton candy, and some even took it. It was like the reverse of the loaves and fishes story.”
After nursing her feelings of disappointment and resentment and failure all afternoon and all evening, she awoke in the middle of the night with a realization:
She says, “I [had been] too wrapped up in myself and my feelings and unmet expectations to even notice…the joy people had in being together and handing out cotton candy in the street. I hadn’t really noticed that some hungry people in Triangle Park got to eat iron-rich burgers for dinner that night. I had decided the event was a failure since there wasn’t the right number of people and no one chipped in any money. How small.”
She continues, “I was reminded again of the loaves and fishes. Thousands of people were sitting around listening to Jesus when his disciples realized it was getting late and no one had ordered pizza. So there they were, faced with feeding all those people who they frankly wished would just go away, and Jesus said, “Well… what do you have?”
“What do we have?” they asked. “We have nothing. Nothing but a few loaves and a couple of fish.” And they said this as though it were a bad thing.
The disciples’ mistake was also my mistake: They forgot that they have a God who created the universe out of “nothing,” that can put flesh on dry bones “nothing,” that can put life in a dusty womb “nothing.” I mean, let’s face it, “nothing” is God’s favorite material to work with. Perhaps God looks upon that which we dismiss as nothing, insignificant, and worthless, and says, “Ha! Now that I can do something with.” I had looked at the twenty-six people at Rally Day, and when Jesus asked, “What do you have?” I said, “Nothing.” And I had missed it all.
This story of the loaves and fishes is the only miracle of Jesus that is recorded in all four gospels. It is a story of “nothing” transformed.
Five loaves.
Five thousand people.
Here’s the miracle: all ate and were satisfied.
And here’s a miracle behind the miracle: somebody first offered up what seemed like nothing.
And here’s a miracle beyond the miracle: there were twelve baskets of extra food, gathered up so that even more hungry mouths could be fed.
This is a miracle story of nothing and a miracle story of abundance, and a story of how the gap between the two is narrower than we so often realize.
How often are we reluctant to share our gifts because we don’t think that they are enough? Because we don’t think they’d make a difference? Because we don’t think that what we have is good enough? Because we are disappointed with ourselves? Because we write off our “somethings” as “nothings?”
She reflects, “Everyone was in a good mood except me. The extra burgers were cooked up, wrapped in foil, and later given to hungry people in Triangle Park. Every car that rolled up to the stop sign by the church was offered a cone of cotton candy, and some even took it. It was like the reverse of the loaves and fishes story.”
After nursing her feelings of disappointment and resentment and failure all afternoon and all evening, she awoke in the middle of the night with a realization:
She says, “I [had been] too wrapped up in myself and my feelings and unmet expectations to even notice…the joy people had in being together and handing out cotton candy in the street. I hadn’t really noticed that some hungry people in Triangle Park got to eat iron-rich burgers for dinner that night. I had decided the event was a failure since there wasn’t the right number of people and no one chipped in any money. How small.”
She continues, “I was reminded again of the loaves and fishes. Thousands of people were sitting around listening to Jesus when his disciples realized it was getting late and no one had ordered pizza. So there they were, faced with feeding all those people who they frankly wished would just go away, and Jesus said, “Well… what do you have?”
“What do we have?” they asked. “We have nothing. Nothing but a few loaves and a couple of fish.” And they said this as though it were a bad thing.
The disciples’ mistake was also my mistake: They forgot that they have a God who created the universe out of “nothing,” that can put flesh on dry bones “nothing,” that can put life in a dusty womb “nothing.” I mean, let’s face it, “nothing” is God’s favorite material to work with. Perhaps God looks upon that which we dismiss as nothing, insignificant, and worthless, and says, “Ha! Now that I can do something with.” I had looked at the twenty-six people at Rally Day, and when Jesus asked, “What do you have?” I said, “Nothing.” And I had missed it all.
This story of the loaves and fishes is the only miracle of Jesus that is recorded in all four gospels. It is a story of “nothing” transformed.
Five loaves.
Five thousand people.
Here’s the miracle: all ate and were satisfied.
And here’s a miracle behind the miracle: somebody first offered up what seemed like nothing.
And here’s a miracle beyond the miracle: there were twelve baskets of extra food, gathered up so that even more hungry mouths could be fed.
This is a miracle story of nothing and a miracle story of abundance, and a story of how the gap between the two is narrower than we so often realize.
How often are we reluctant to share our gifts because we don’t think that they are enough? Because we don’t think they’d make a difference? Because we don’t think that what we have is good enough? Because we are disappointed with ourselves? Because we write off our “somethings” as “nothings?”
This story tells us that all of our gifts—big, small, novice, experienced, young, old, skilled or not—all of our gifts given to us by God!—are sufficient to offer up in faith. This story tells us that it is faithfulness that God desires, and not perfection. This story tells us that we do not have to singlehandedly save the world. We simply need to be willing to break bread with our neighbors. And by sharing our gifts, hungry people will be fed, body and spirit.
This is true in seasons of barley loves. This is especially true in seasons of abundance.
When those thousands of people finished eating their fill of fish and bread, they paid attention. They noticed that there was still good food. They remembered their own hunger, just moments’ prior. And so they collected what was left, that nothing would go to waste, that others might have a chance to eat as well.
Twelve baskets to be shared. Twelve baskets of good to be done in the world. Twelve baskets of abundance. Twelve baskets to be offered in faith, just the same as those first five loves and two fish were offered.
It’s hard to know how to feel about the two edge-of-space flights taken in recent weeks by extremely wealthy businessmen. There’s the excitement of technological advancements and new frontiers, yes. But there’s also the discomfort of knowing that for the same cost as a ticket, they could have eradicated hunger in their home nations and beyond.
What do we do with our twelve baskets’ full?
Hanging in my office, I have a framed print of a table prayer that reads, "To those who are hungry, give bread; to those who have bread, give the hunger for justice.”
When we have an abundance of bread does our faith not also demand of us an abundance of spirit and an abundance of generosity and an abundance of courage to help reshape the world around us?
The poet Justin McRoberts writes, “Part of what it looks like to expect good is to do as much good as I can do with what I have already been given.”
The miracle of the loaves and fishes is a miracle of generosity, of gifts offered in faith, of God’s abundance, of a vision of the coming kingdom where no one is hungry or thirsty or lacking for anything.
What will we do with our barley loaves and our twelve baskets?
What courage and generosity does Jesus ask of us, and model for us?
What ways will God use and multiply our gifts beyond our wildest imaginations?
We enter into the miracle of the loaves and fishes each time our hearts are moved to generosity. We enter into the miracle each time we take God’s gifts to us—our “nothings” and our extra baskets alike—and offer them back to God’s service. We enter into the miracle each and every time we have the courage to believe that hungry mouths can and will be fed, and that we are called to be a part of it.
May God open our hearts to recognize miracles of generosity in our midst. May God humble our hearts to release us from our resentments and our fears of inadequacy. And may God give us opportunities, each and every day, to share ourselves and our gifts, trusting that what we offer will be used and multiplied by the God who turns “nothing” into new creation, and death into abundant life.
Take your five loaves. Take you two fish. Take your twelve baskets.
And know that, with God’s help, they will become a miracle in this world.
When those thousands of people finished eating their fill of fish and bread, they paid attention. They noticed that there was still good food. They remembered their own hunger, just moments’ prior. And so they collected what was left, that nothing would go to waste, that others might have a chance to eat as well.
Twelve baskets to be shared. Twelve baskets of good to be done in the world. Twelve baskets of abundance. Twelve baskets to be offered in faith, just the same as those first five loves and two fish were offered.
It’s hard to know how to feel about the two edge-of-space flights taken in recent weeks by extremely wealthy businessmen. There’s the excitement of technological advancements and new frontiers, yes. But there’s also the discomfort of knowing that for the same cost as a ticket, they could have eradicated hunger in their home nations and beyond.
What do we do with our twelve baskets’ full?
Hanging in my office, I have a framed print of a table prayer that reads, "To those who are hungry, give bread; to those who have bread, give the hunger for justice.”
When we have an abundance of bread does our faith not also demand of us an abundance of spirit and an abundance of generosity and an abundance of courage to help reshape the world around us?
The poet Justin McRoberts writes, “Part of what it looks like to expect good is to do as much good as I can do with what I have already been given.”
The miracle of the loaves and fishes is a miracle of generosity, of gifts offered in faith, of God’s abundance, of a vision of the coming kingdom where no one is hungry or thirsty or lacking for anything.
What will we do with our barley loaves and our twelve baskets?
What courage and generosity does Jesus ask of us, and model for us?
What ways will God use and multiply our gifts beyond our wildest imaginations?
We enter into the miracle of the loaves and fishes each time our hearts are moved to generosity. We enter into the miracle each time we take God’s gifts to us—our “nothings” and our extra baskets alike—and offer them back to God’s service. We enter into the miracle each and every time we have the courage to believe that hungry mouths can and will be fed, and that we are called to be a part of it.
May God open our hearts to recognize miracles of generosity in our midst. May God humble our hearts to release us from our resentments and our fears of inadequacy. And may God give us opportunities, each and every day, to share ourselves and our gifts, trusting that what we offer will be used and multiplied by the God who turns “nothing” into new creation, and death into abundant life.
Take your five loaves. Take you two fish. Take your twelve baskets.
And know that, with God’s help, they will become a miracle in this world.