The Sunday Next before Advent (November 21, 2021)

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be alway acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

Today, we reach the end of the lectionary year and our Gospel reading is the Feeding of the 5,000. Now this is not the first time in the Church year we read a feeding narrative. The Markan version of the story makes an appearance on the Seventh Sunday after Trinity which was July 18th, a sermon I’m sure everyone vividly remembers. It raises a question I was thinking about this week: how do you preach a story you’ve already preached?

One could re-use an earlier sermon but that feels a tad lazy. I also considered pointing out that John’s Gospel doesn’t have a Last Supper account like the other three Gospels do and that many scholars think John 6 is his Eucharistic text because of his formula in verse 11 where Jesus takes, gives thanks, breaks bread, and gives it to his disciples. Further, I would have pointed out that this story is linked to the Bread of Life Discourse that follows in which Jesus states plainly that “Except ye eat the flesh of the Son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you.” But I’m not going to do that…at least I’m not going to be as on the nose as that.

So what are we going to talk about in this story today? I’d like to think about God’s provision for us.

In the first part of our reading, Jesus poses a problem to the Disciples. In this way, John’s version of the story differs from the way the other Gospels present it. In the others, the disciples bring the problem of hungry crowds to Jesus’ attention. But here, our Lord is the one who brings it up. And we’re told he “lifted up his eyes,” and noticed great crowds amassing. This phrase in biblical narratives tends to anticipate a major turn of events; when Moses is sitting under the tree at Mamre, he “lifted up his eyes” and saw his three mysterious guests. Here, Jesus raises up his eyes to see the crowds which will afford him the opportunity to see a miracle. So he raises the question to Philip: “Whence shall we buy bread?” But John lifts the veil for us so we can see what’s really going on: “This he said to prove him: for he himself knew what he would do.” Philip doesn’t rise to the occasion; he points out the massive task: not even two hundred pennyworth (or denarii) would supply enough bread. For perspective, one denarius was the average wage for a day’s work. So, not even 10 month’s work would be able to pay for the amount of food that was needed. Almost immediately and somewhat comically, St. Andrew brought a lad over with five loaves and two fish, but realizes it’s just a drop in the bucket: “What are they among so many?” So, at the end of verse 9, we’re left with a seemingly insurmountable problem — a problem that is meant to take us back to the wilderness wandering of Israel in the Exodus where the people complained about a lack of food only to be fed with the manna from heaven.

And so Jesus has the crowd gather together and sit down. He takes loaves, gave thanks, and gave it to his disciples. This formula is reminiscent of the Words of Institution, one of the reasons why this chapter of John’s Gospel is often read a proto-Eucharistic treatise. The miracle here in John is the multiplication of loaves and fish so that all were fed to the point of being satiated. In fact, there was so much leftover that Jesus instructed his disciples to gather what remained. And it was enough to fill twelve baskets, twelve being a significant number: twelve tribes, twelve apostles, etc. That there are twelve baskets leftover highlights the continuity between Old Testament Israel and the community Jesus births we now know as the Church. Really these aren’t two distinct communities but the Old is elevated into the unfolding mystery of God’s revelation and becomes the Church. as it looks in the present.

The Gospel authors love to report for us the response of the crowds to Jesus. John is no different, as he records them saying, “This is of a truth, that prophet that should come into the world.” Now, we might think this praise is an understatement; Jesus isn’t just a prophet after all. It’s true, the crowds didn’t have the Nicene Creed to help them understand exactly who Christ was. But that they called him a prophet actually confirms that he is the Messiah because it’s allusion to Deuteronomy 18:18 which was the Old Testament reading for Evening Prayer on Friday where God promises Moses that “I will raise them up a Prophet from among their brethren, like unto thee, and will put my words in his mouth. Jesus is this prophet.

The theme or message of our reading today is that God provides for his people. Just like he sent manna from heaven to the Israelites who were wandering in the wilderness, so he sent bread to those who were following Jesus, and so he sends us provision in the Holy Eucharist. But what I really want us to look at today are the leftovers, the 12 basketfuls.

Insofar as this story is about the Eucharist, we play it out each week because we usually consecrate more Host than we have communicants. The remaining Host get gathered up and stored in ciboria in the aumbry downstairs in the chapel or in the tabernacle over the altar. As long as Sacrament is stored in either, their respective Sanctuary lights are left on as a continual reminder for us of God’s provision and his presence, which is further accentuated when we use that Reserved Sacrament to visit the infirm or shut-in.

But the leftovers point us to a bigger truth: that God grants us “more than we can ask or imagine,” according to Ephesians 3:20. In our Gospel today, he not only feeds thousands of people, he gives us leftovers, emphasizing the gratuitousness of his grace. He didn’t have to create us at all, but he did. He didn’t have to redeem us when we betrayed him through sin, but he did. He didn’t have to feed the people, but he did. He didn’t have provide them leftovers, but he did. So it’s not a surprise that we have the twelve basketfuls at the end of the story. It’s in keeping with the pattern of how God works in the world.

We find ourselves here at the end of yet another Church year and this is a good opportunity for us to gather up the basketfuls. What does that mean? It means reflecting on how God has blessed us. How has he blessed us this year? I can think of many ways we’ve been blessed since the beginning of the last Advent. Since then, we’ve been able to fully reopen. We can reflect on how God has protected our parish during the pandemic with very few cases. We were able to have in-person Christmas and Easter services. Our music and choir programs have returned and sounds as good as ever. In spite of COVID generally slowing church growth across the United States, we were able to have six confirmations and three receptions during a successful Episcopal visitation. We’ve also had a number of baptisms and even some weddings. Our missions committee has ensured that we continue to make our community a better place with their hard work, allowing us to offer or participate in offering Gospel light and hope to a dark world that desperately needs it. As the Anglican Province of America, we have entered into a new era by having a peaceful transition of power as Bishop Chad was enthroned as our new Presiding Bishop. It’s been a busy year, it’s been a strange year, but God has been faithful to provide for us. There might be more things you would add to that list, both for St. Paul’s and I’m sure you as an individuals or families. But when we take a moment to appreciate what God has done for us, it should produce in us a spirit of Thanksgiving: “We, thine unworthy servants, do give thee most humble and hearty thanks for all thy goodness and loving-kindess to us, and to all men.” And this time of year is perfect for entering into a mindset of Thanksgiving, especially as we enter into next week. But thanksgiving should give way to resolve. Now it’s been said that “New Years resolutions go in one year and out the other.” That’s probably because it’s very difficult for us to change ourselves without God’s empowerment. But as baptized Christians, we have the Holy Spirit working in our hearts, we have the Sacraments affording us strength and pushing us towards holiness and righteousness.

Our propers for today work wonderfully because the Gospel reading urges us to be introspective about what God has done for us this year while our collect urges us forward: “Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people; that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may by thee be plenteously rewarded.” Fr. Mason and Fr. Thomas have both taught us about faith recently. Fr. Mason spoke about faith and its relationship to hope and love, the theological virtues. Last week, Fr. Thomas talked to us about faith’s role as quickening our hearts, the foundation for our spiritual progress. In both cases, I think the common denominator was that faith propels us forward. It was a great act of faith that caused the boy to offer his meager offering of loaves and fish, a faith that stands as a foil to the disciples who were wracked with doubt.

So I encourage, exhort, and challenge you to spend some time in faithful prayer and reflection this week about our upcoming Church year. Pray for God to clarify what he was teaching you last year. Pray him to show you what he wants from you: what does he want you give with your time; how does he want you to use your unique gifts to edify his Church and proclaim the Gospel, and how does he want you to give financially? These are all important things for us to meditate on as we enter this new liturgical year together. But above all and through all, we have to remember our dependence on him and resolve to come back to his Altar again and again.

“Although we are unworthy, through our manifold sins and wickedness, to offer unto thee any sacrifice; yet we beseech thee to accept our bounden duty and service.”

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.