Sunday 28 July 2024

Being Hungry

 Homily for Trinity 9 (Proper 12) 28th July 2024 Year B

2 Kings 4.42-44; Ephesians 3.14-21; John 6.1-21


The feeding of hungry people is an imperative. I was reminded just the other day that we need to start planning for our Harvest Festival. This year we hope not only to collect gifts of food, clothing and toiletries for the work of the People’s Kitchen with homeless people in Newcastle, but also to raise money for the work of Christian Aid. Their work of development and relief is essential – reaching out to people threatened by starvation, who live without clean water supplies that we should take for granted, who lack medical provision or even the most basic form of shelter. I realise that actually we can’t these days always take clean water for granted in this country: there are too many instances of sewage discharges into our rivers and along the coast; and our National Health Service is not what it should be. Millions of people have that experience of not being able to get on the so-called property ladder – so many experience sub-standard housing. These are matters which Government needs to tackle. But there’s a responsibility given to us as well. “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink…” Do we measure up to that test of our Christian faith? We need to be able to respond to people’s need wherever we find it.  All the more necessary, then, that we should support those Christian agencies which exist to do that on an international level.

It's in a time of famine that the prophet Elisha finds himself with a hundred people to feed and only 20 loaves of barley in his sack. “How can I set this before a hundred people?” Elisha’s servant enquires. But he receives Elisha’s reply: “Give it to the people and let them eat, for thus says the Lord, ‘They shall eat and have some left.’” He does what he is asked: “He set it before them, they ate and had some left.”

This is a story about relieving people in their need. We hear it today because it’s a sort of Old Testament parallel to our Gospel reading and the feeding of the 5,000. But there’s a difference of scale: 20 loaves for a hundred people – that’s quite different from finding you have just five barley loaves and two little fish for several thousand! 20 loaves between a hundred people… Perhaps you could do something with them if only people were ready to share. But with so little between so many in our Gospel reading, that tells us that this is not a story about what you can do if only you’re prepared to share. That would be quite impossible. Today’s Gospel is a story instead about being hungry and discovering where you are going to be fed.

The feeding of the Five Thousand is not a miracle staged by Jesus for the sake of impressing the crowds. It’s not a lesson in what you can do if only you look out for each other and are prepared to share. Jesus didn’t even count on having that huge number of people with him. In his version of the story St. Mark tells us that Jesus is actually trying to get away from the people to what he calls “a desert place,” a place where he can rest. St. John’s Gospel tells us that he has gone up “the mountain” with his disciples – something we know he does when he wants to pray. But the crowd keeps following. Matthew, Mark and Luke tell us how Jesus then sets about teaching and healing the people – until the disciples say to Jesus that he should send them away before it’s too late for them to find something to eat. In St. John’s account, which we read today, it’s different. John doesn’t tell us anything of what Jesus does with the crowd. He simply sees them, he recognises their huge numbers and he recognises their need. Most especially he recognises their hunger. 

Jesus puts the question, “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” But it’s a test: the Gospel writer says that Jesus knows already what he will do. They don’t have enough money. There don’t seem to be any shops if they had. Sharing isn’t going to be enough – even when they find a boy with five loaves and two little fish. It’s Christ himself that makes the difference – and he will make the difference when we recognise our need, our need of him.

Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, has said that what we need above all if we wish to be nourished by Christ, is to recognise that we are hungry. We are not called to be self-sufficient. Even sharing can’t satisfy everybody. But in this gathering of the huge crowd we have people drawn to Christ because they recognise their need of him. That’s where we start: by admitting that we are hungry, that we need to be fed. What Jesus offers is far beyond our understanding. The disciples find the boy with his five loaves and two fish – but at the same time they can’t see what use they will be: “But what are they among so many people?” they ask.

“Make the people sit down,” says Jesus. He can take the smallest offering. It’s Jesus himself who will make the difference: giving thanks, sharing it, giving people as much as they want. There are no limits here. “What do you need?” Jesus is asking – and he gives it. “What are you hungry for?” – and he feeds them.

The difference is Christ. It may seem odd after this miracle of the feeding of the 5,000 to add on the story of Jesus walking on the waters of the lake. But the point is in Jesus’ words: “It is I; do not be afraid.” It’s enough that Jesus is recognised, seen to be who he is. When Moses hears the voice of God speaking from the Burning Bush, it’s with the words, “I am who I am.” Now Jesus is saying, “It is I.” That’s all we need to hear.

St. John’s account of the Feeding of the 5,000 tells us that it happens near to the Jewish Festival of the Passover. It’s the Festival which speaks of how God delivered his people from slavery in Egypt; it’s a Festival celebrated with a meal; and for Christians the occasion of the Last Supper at Passover time was to be Jesus’ gift to us of his Body and his Blood, shared in bread and wine. He takes the bread and gives it saying, “This is my Body, given for you.” He asks if we can share his cup – and with the wine he shares tells us “This is my Blood, shed for you.”

It's nothing we do ourselves that will nourish us with spiritual things. Jesus wants us to be fed. We need only to be hungry – and to bring that hunger so it can be satisfied in him.


Wednesday 10 July 2024

Choral Evensong

 


Wednesday 3 July 2024

In praise of St. Thomas…


I was actually going to use the title “In praise of doubt…” I’m writing on 3rd July which is the Feast of St. Thomas the Apostle. Most famously he’s known as “Doubting Thomas.” Read the Gospel for the day and you can see how he got the name. Jesus appears to the disciples on the evening of the first Easter Day, but Thomas isn’t there. He must have felt that he’d missed out. And he only has their word for it. The Resurrection is not something he can take in – it’s beyond his experience. So when the other disciples tell him, “We have seen the Lord,” he replies:

‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands,

and put my finger in the mark of the nails

and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’

I really feel for Thomas. Elsewhere in the Gospels you can find glimpses of how he struggles to comprehend Jesus. And now after three years of faithfulness to him he misses out on something that has evidently been life-changing for his friends. And so he says, “I will not believe.”

But we’re wrong to write him off as “Doubting Thomas.” This is Thomas who is quite open about how he feels, ready to admit what it is his heart, sharing his disappointment and inability to enter into the joy of the other disciples. He is not “Doubting Thomas” but “Honest Thomas.”

I’m writing on the last day of political campaigning before the General Election. I can’t know what the outcome will be even if the pundits are pretty sure. What I can say is that we need more honesty. So many lies have been told, so many false promises made. So often political advantage is seen as being earned by projecting energy even if it’s misdirected, or giving the answer politicians think we want to hear, even if it’s not true. There’s nothing worse, it seems, than taking the time to give an answer, or admitting that you need more time to work it out – except perhaps to be considered boring. Perhaps we can at last have some political leaders who might just dare to say, “I don’t know, but I’ll work on it.” Above all to be honest. “Peace be with you.” Jesus will say to Thomas. May we all know that peace! 


Taken from the July / August issue of our Parish Magazine - read the whole issue by clicking here, or explore the Blog Tabs