2 Kings 4:42-44 and Ephesians 3:14-21 and John 6:1-21
To
be a disciple of Jesus is to learn to see and to act differently, to see and
act as Jesus does. It is a process, and one in which our teacher regularly
tests us in order to help us grow. Jesus tests Philip, asking ‘Where are we to
buy bread for these people to eat?’ and he tests us in the same way today, in a
week where the stockpiling of food and medicines has been in the news.
Set
alongside our Gospel passage we heard Paul’s prayer that the saints in Ephesus and in every place may have the power to
comprehend what is the breadth and length and height and depth of the love of
Christ that surpasses knowledge. It is a prayer that cannot contain itself but
spills out in praise to God who is able to accomplish abundantly far more than
all we ask or imagine. But how can we comprehend something so expansive? How
are we empowered to do that?
It
struck me afresh as I sat with our Gospel reading in preparation for today that
both the crowd and the disciples try to grasp hold of Jesus – and fail. The
crowd want to take him by force and make him king (or at least Tetrarch of
Galilee and Perea in place of Herod Antipas). But their imagination is not
expansive enough. The disciples wanted to take him into the boat, because his
walking on the water terrified them; but immediately reach land instead. Whatever
Jesus has in mind is, as Paul would have it, abundantly far more than all we
can ask and imagine, whether we identify with the crowd who want to recruit
Jesus to their cause or the disciples who have been recruited by Jesus to his.
To
comprehend love is not to contain or control love. Indeed, the moment we
attempt to contain or control love, we show that we have not comprehended love
at all.
How,
then, might we comprehend love? Perhaps our Gospel reading gives us a clue.
After the crowd have eaten their fill, Jesus instructs the disciples to gather
up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost. The Greek word for
‘left over’ means ‘that which is over and above’. The ‘left overs’ does make
straightforward sense; but ‘that which is over and above’ carries a deeper
sense: this wasn’t a miscalculation, an over-catering, a waste of food: it was
a demonstration of the abundantly-more-than-we-can-ask-or-imagine.
And
that which is over and above, abundantly more than we can ask or imagine, is
gathered up in twelve baskets. Specifically, these were small baskets, of a
standardised size used in the buying and selling of grain; a standard measure
that safeguarded trust and enabled confidence. They were an agreed shared
value.
What
enables us to comprehend things invisible, like love, and glory, and faith; like
hope, and peace, and grace, and mystery, and wisdom? What enables us to speak
of community, or of the future – things no one has ever seen? What enables us
to speak of the strengths and limitations of how we organise ourselves, work
with others, view one another? These things depend in part on shared values. As
Barak Obama said just the other day in a speech to mark the centenary of Nelson
Mandela’s birth, facts are facts and lies are lies, and cooperation is
dependent on recognising a certain baseline of objective truths. You don’t mess
with the size of the basket; and if you do, everybody agrees that you are in
the wrong.
But
a standardised container is only part of the answer. We come to comprehend love
by gathering up the fragments left over by love – and by recognising that the fragments
represent not the totality, that must be hoarded because we might not have
enough, but the over-and-above that which already filled us. So, how about we have
a go at gathering up some fragments?
Within
the Minster community, in no particular order, we come across fragments of
God’s love in the sharing of a sign of Peace;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in receiving tokens of the broken body of
Christ in our hands and on our lips;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the people who slip into this building
throughout the week to sit, heads bowed in prayer; to light a candle, or pin a
prayer request on the board;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the noticing who isn’t here today and
feeling the weight of their absence, and in the visiting of the elderly and
infirm;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the smiles of our Iranian brothers and
sisters;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the dependable familiarity of our
liturgy;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the coming-together of different
generations and in the diversity of our skin-colour and nationality; our
lived-experience and point-of-view;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the children and grandchildren who are
at home here week by week, and in the welcoming of other families over the
summer;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the stories of Jesus we hear again
whenever we come together;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in every wedding, baptism, and funeral;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the singing of the choir and the ringing
of the bells; the dusting of the pews and the welcome on the door; the
anointing with oil for healing and the serving of refreshments;
we
come across fragments of God’s love in the beauty of the Sunderland sunrise and
sunset, of our beaches, and the horizon where sea meets sky.
And
each of these is just a fragment, left-overs of the miracle of love. Small in
themselves but pushing back where fear and self-interest would hem-in our
breadth and length and height and depth. Another way to understand gathering
fragments is counting our blessings. Counting
our blessings may be a small thing, a
dismissively simple thing; but in a
society contemplating stockpiling resources, it is a deeply subversive thing. Counting our blessings
makes that which is more abundant that we can ask or imagine comprehensible.
What begins as a discipline can become a habit, a disposition that increases
our thankfulness and opens us up to even more wonder – and Paul’s prayer
becomes fulfilled in our lives, to the glory of God.
In
a world shaped more by worry than by wonder, more by fear than faith, that is
Good News. So, throughout the week ahead, gather up the fragments left over, so
that nothing may be lost. You’ll be amazed at how many are fed and satisfied.
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