John 6: 1-15

Do You Believe in Miracles?

A church mission committee once hatched a plan to raise money for denominational mission work, and at the same time teach the congregation something about world hunger. The congregants were invited after church one Sunday to a fellowship meal—no cost, no potluck, lunch was free.

 The congregants dutifully trooped into the fellowship hall after the morning worship service ended, where 18 tables, each seating 10 people, were already set up.

The mission committee hadn’t done anything special with the set-up—plates, napkins, silverware sat at each place setting, just like any other fellowship dinner. Salt and pepper, sugar and sweetener and butter, all rested in their usual spots and a single plant sat on the center of each table, each in a terra cotta clay pot.

What was different was that, even though an indistinguishable mix of food smells made their way into the fellowship hall, the kitchen doors were closed, and no food was in sight.

The mission committee invited everyone to sit down wherever they pleased, and they would then receive further instructions. So everyone sat down, chatting with one another about the morning sermon, and wondering what the mission committee had cooked up for them.

 Once everyone settled in, the chair of the mission committee told the people at each table to look under their potted plant for a number. Someone from each table looked, and sure enough, they all found slips of paper with the number one, two, or three on them.

After the numbers were revealed, the chair explained what would happen next. The people at the seven tables with number two's assigned to them would send a representative to the kitchen for a tuna casserole to serve among themselves, family-style.

The people at the 10 tables with a number three would bring their plates to the kitchen window, where they would each be served a small portion of plain white rice. Period.

And what about the one remaining table? The table that had a number one? Well the people at this table were the lucky ones. Their basic plates and flatware would be replaced with fine china and real silver, and they would dine on steak, salad, twice-baked potatoes, and a decadent chocolate dessert, served to them by members of the mission committee.

Oh, and they would get served first.

The congregation quickly figured out the lesson here. The one lucky steak table represented the way affluent people in the First World ate, while those at the tuna casserole tables ate the simple meals of the Second World.

The unlucky ones who ended up at the number three tables ate like Third World poor people—if you can count consuming sticky bits of rice as eating!

People talked and laughed uneasily among themselves as they enjoyed—or tolerated—their meal.

But then, something happened that the mission committee didn't expect. The people at one of the number two tables noticed they had plenty of tuna casserole left over, even after everyone at their table had been served.

They also noticed that one of the number three tables had several small children sitting there who were looking more than a bit confused at the rice on their plates, as though they were trying to decide if they should complain, or just eat and be quiet.

Then a two-year-old started to cry. One of the members of table two picked up the pan of tuna casserole and quietly took it to the number three table with the crying child.

 The room fell silent for a few seconds. The chair of the mission committee started to protest, "Hey, wait a minute! You're not . . ."

But sure enough, another table two shared its food with another number three table. And another. And another. Soon everyone was sharing their food with everyone else.

Even some of the people at the number one table gave their slices of cake to the children at the other tables. Everyone had enough to eat; no one went away hungry.

 Now, I realize this was a population that was hardly starving. Even those who had received only rice could have easily gone home after the lunch and mission presentation and supplemented their meager meal with the kind of food reserved for table number one.

But what started as a lesson in hunger became a lesson in sharing. You might call it a miracle. Certainly, if this were to happen in "real life," it would be a miracle, indeed.

Today's New Testament scripture text gives us a biblical miracle of sharing and abundance. Jesus and his disciples are tired; they have been teaching, preaching, and healing all over Galilee, and they want food and rest.

Yet the crowd finds them, and the crowd is hungry, first for the presence of Jesus and what love and teachings Jesus can depart. Jesus is nearly depleted, yet he has compassion, and out of his compassion comes the first miracle of the story, that of love and endurance.

He continues to teach, going on for so long that the disciples have to remind him that people have physical hunger needs, too. The disciples note the people need to eat and Jesus in response tells the disciples that he expects them to feed the gathered crowd.

Feed 5000 men, plus women and children?  With what?

A generous boy shows up with five loaves and two fish. That amount might feed 10, depending on the size of the loaves, but certainly not this crowd.  Jesus takes the food though, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to his disciples.

Not unlike communion, come to think of it. And then the disciples hand it out to the crowd, where five loaves and two fish become enough food for everyone, with 12 baskets of leftovers, besides.

Some scholars have given a rational twist to this story. The real miracle, they say, is when the crowd sees the boy give his provisions to Jesus, and sees Jesus bless the food and distribute it freely, the crowd is moved to, each one, take out his or her own little store of food and share it with others who didn't bring any, so that everyone has enough to eat.

I certainly don't want to downplay the very real miracle in this interpretation. Sharing when you only have a little to share is a miracle enough, for it takes courage and trust to share under such circumstances.

If I only had one loaf of bread, and a long trek home, I might have good reason to horde that bread so I could sustain myself on the journey back. It might take something extraordinary to convince me to share that load with those sitting with me and trust God will provide food for the trip home.

 I do not believe, however, that we should downplay, or deny, Jesus' miracles, or his ability to do them. I suspect that more food did come out of hiding once the five loaves and two fish started making the rounds.

And yet, Jesus is capable of taking what little we have and multiplying it so that the little we share can serve many. This miracle interpretation, to me, is not an either-or, but a both-and.

Not only that, people saw the miracle that Jesus performed, and they believed in him. They saw him feed five thousand people with only five loaves and two fish, and they recognized him for who and what he was.

Jesus fed a whole hungry crowd with one kid’s lunch! If I’d have been there, I’d have believed in him, too! But I wasn’t. And I haven’t seen any really good miracles lately …how about you?

 And oh, how this world needs miracles. We too have hungry crowds that we don’t know what to do with. And it’s not a few thousand people, but a few billion!

To be sure, we are compassionate people, and it causes us pain, quite literally, to see the pictures and hear the stories of starving children and adults … of dead children and adults, in the Sudan, in the streets of Brazil, in North Korea, and even in our own country.

I mean, we’re Christians, right?  We want to do something! But we’re not sure what. A miracle would sure be nice. But I wonder if what we need these days isn’t a different kind of miracle.

The feeding of the five thousand was more than a simple act of feeding hungry people. It was also a kind of "proof" to those people that Jesus was who and what he said he was. And it seems to me that we must do the same sort of thing.

In feeding the hungry, we must "prove," in a sense, that we are who we say we are. That we are compassionate. That we are Christians. That we are followers of Jesus Christ, who fed the hungry and had compassion on all who suffered.

And to be compassionate means more than just feeling sorry. I am certain that the vast majority of people like you and I feel sorry for those in need.   After all, even the disciples felt sorry for the 5000 who were hungry. 

Weren’t the disciples the ones who brought it to Jesus’ attention that it was getting late?  

Weren’t the disciples the ones who brought it to Jesus’ attention that they were in a remote place?  

Weren’t the disciples the ones who brought it to Jesus’ attention the need for the people to go into town and get supper?

It wasn’t as if the disciples were heartless.   I think we at least have this in common with the disciples, we feel sorry for the less fortunate, for the hungry.

But, it is not enough to just feel sorry.   We are called to follow not the disciples but Jesus.   Jesus did not feel sorry for the 5000. Jesus had compassion.   Compassion is more than sorrow, it is sorrow accompanied by an urge to help. And not just an urge – but actual action.

But what can we do?  Sometimes it is all we can do to feed ourselves – how can we feed the world?

Well, first, we need to realize that the problem of world hunger is not that there’s not enough land to grow food on. At least, that’s not the problem yet. The problem is that the food isn’t where the hungry people are! And that we can do something about.

In many ways, all of them very indirect, we keep food from going where it needs to go. Our national government buys up excess grain from farmers, in order to help them out financially … But too often, we dump the grain in silos and leave it to rot, rather than releasing it onto the market and depressing prices.

Now I’m not arguing for or against farm subsidies. I am saying that if we are going to spend all that money – taxpayers’ money, your money and my money – that it ought not to be wasted on rotting grain.

Coffee grown in Central America goes to feed our caffeine habits – and the profits go to big business and the local farmers are left out in the cold.  Fishing off the coast of South America doesn’t go to feed hungry people there – but comes north to be made into cat food for our cats.  And it goes on and on.

 Now I don’t mean to imply that America is entirely responsible for the world’s hunger problems, or even hunger in this hemisphere. But we are partly responsible.

And by that I mean us, not just our government, not just all those other Americans out there

We are part of a long chain linked to poverty in our world. And we are partly responsible for the mess we have helped to create. But even more, we are responsible for doing what we can to get our world out of this mess.

 Now, I can see the little wheels of cynicism starting to turn in some of your heads. Alleviate world hunger? "That," you say, "would take a miracle."

Precisely. As a matter of fact, it will take many miracles. Jesus fed five thousand, but you can bet there were many other hungry that he didn’t get around to. He did what he could, without becoming paralyzed by what he couldn’t. We must do the same: our own small miracles in our own small way.

 It has occurred to me that a part of the miracle of this story is the response of the child who offered his own lunch. It’s unlikely that he somehow "knew" that Jesus would turn that into a meal for the whole crowd.

It’s even less likely that he thought five loaves and two fish would make any dent in the hunger of that many people.

But he didn’t let that stop him from offering what he had. He didn’t say to himself sadly, “I can’t make any difference with my little contribution, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut.”

And he didn’t say, “this is mine and I don’t have to share it … why didn’t everyone else come prepared like I did?”

He gave what he could, and didn’t worry about what he couldn’t. And Jesus took that gift, and did something amazing with it.  

This morning, after the congregational meeting, we will have the chance to do something about world hunger. After a very short DVD we will invite you to write letters to your elected representatives.  I hope you take advantage of that opportunity. 

But, I understand that this might not be for you.  If that is the case, then I hope that you do something else.  Write a different kind of letter – letting our representatives know that hunger is an issue we take seriously and so should they. 

Or do something … else.  Just don’t nod and do nothing.

By taking such steps, we are not only helping the hungry in a small way. We are also showing the world who we are. Compassionate. Faithful followers of our Lord, who went about doing good.

By this kind of miracle, not only will hungry people be fed, but others will see our good works, and maybe even join us. We can do miracles. Thanks be to God!

Amen.