Penelope Bridges, Sermon from 8 am service (at the 10:30 am service we had a guest preacher)
For family reasons, I’ve recently been thinking about songs that include the name Mary. Not so much the Blessed Virgin Mary, but, rather, poems and nursery rhymes. There’s Mary had a little lamb, of course; and Mary, Mary quite contrary. [Sing the song]. Lovely images, a sweet nursery rhyme to sing to my baby granddaughter when she arrives in the fall. But did you know that the pretty words conceal a less wholesome and rather malevolent intent?
The song was created as a satirical commentary on Queen Mary I of England, often referred to as Bloody Mary. Quite contrary, because of her violent efforts to reverse the Protestant reformation in England. Silver bells, because of her devotion to Roman Catholic ritual. Cockle shells, because of her marriage to King Philip of Spain, whose royal symbol was a seashell. Pretty maids, because of scurrilous rumors that she was gay. You might say that this rhyme is a kind of parable, a story with hidden significance and a sting in the tail.
Our Hebrew Scripture reading today has a powerful parable: the story of the poor man and his ewe lamb. If you were here last week you heard the unsavory tale of how King David allowed lust to overrule his judgment; how he abused his power to sexually assault Bathsheba, the beautiful wife of one of his generals – a general who was away from home, engaged in a military campaign on David’s behalf; how, when the woman became pregnant, David tried to cover up his crime by first getting the husband drunk in the hope that he would sleep with his wife; and then by having him killed in battle; after which David added Bathsheba to his collection of wives and concubines. Rape, cover-up, conspiracy, and murder. That’s quite a rap sheet.
Now, in the sequel to that episode, here comes the prophet Nathan, David’s advisor and conscience, successor to Samuel, to tell the king a story about a poor man and his treasured ewe lamb. Nathan is demonstrating great political skill here. It’s not generally a good idea to march into the king’s presence and directly accuse him of wrongdoing: that approach is likely to end badly for the accuser. But a parable can find its way into someone’s consciousness without them even realizing what it means. Like the nursery rhyme, Nathan’s story sounds innocuous, and David misses the point completely, expressing outrage at the way the rich man, with all his flocks and herds, treated his less fortunate neighbor. But then Nathan drops the hammer: YOU ARE THE MAN. And the true object of the story, and the seriousness of David’s crimes, is revealed to him.
In our Gospel story, Jesus has fed the hungry crowds, and they follow him everywhere in the hopes of getting another free meal. But when he starts talking about the food that endures for eternal life, about bread from heaven, they are baffled. They don’t understand that the bread he is talking about isn’t made from flour, water, and yeast. They can’t make the jump to the metaphor.
In both cases, King David’s lust and the Gospel crowd’s hunger, short-term appetites rule. King David has Uriah killed so that he can possess Bathsheba immediately. The action destroys his credibility as king and sets him and his family on a path of internal conflict, power struggles, and tragedy. In the Gospel, the people are focused on the meal they just enjoyed – the miraculous feeding of the multitude – and on how they can get a steady diet of it, rather than taking a step back and considering what it might mean. What they are asking for, and what Jesus is offering, are very different. They see only what’s in front of their noses, while Jesus is gazing into eternity. The crowd fails to understand the loaves and fishes as a sign of the covenant relationship between God and God’s people, of the abundance of life that God offers those who follow God’s ways. A little bit later in this same chapter John tells us that many of the disciples left Jesus after this episode, because his teaching was too hard. Once the free food ran out, they weren’t interested any more. There’s a lesson there, for those of us who go through times of feeling less than fully nourished by the church.
When do we focus too much on what is right in front of us, failing to see the big picture, the more distant possibilities? As we consider our choices when the election rolls around in November, will we be thinking about the tax break that will benefit our own household, or the social services that will keep thousands of families out of poverty? Will we sit back knowing that we are OK in California, while one third of women in this country have lost their right to reproductive choice? And today, are we complaining about the cost of utilities, rather than joyfully participating in measures to reduce waste, conserve energy, and save the planet?
Can we imagine a world where everyone has enough to eat – “give us this bread always” – instead of a world where we throw away a huge percentage of the foodstuffs that we grow? And even that possibility, as important as it is, falls far short of the vision that Jesus holds out for his followers: it’s not just about having something to eat, it’s about a kind of life where we aren’t obsessed with scarcity, because we can trust that God will take care of us, no matter what happens. As Jesus says to the crowd, “This is the work of God, that you believe (or trust) in the one whom God has sent.”
As shocking as the story of David and Bathsheba is, there is a redemptive element to it, and we find it in the way David reacts, once his eyes are opened and he realizes how far he has strayed from his own moral compass. Everyone is human, everyone is flawed. David’s actions with Bathsheba and her husband are ample proof of his imperfections, and yet he is the beloved of God. When Nathan accuses him and pronounces the punishment that will follow, David responds appropriately: “I have sinned against the Lord”.
In the verses following our reading, we will learn that the child born to Bathsheba is struck down and dies; and that David observes a period of extreme distress and mourning, which is widely noted by his people. This repentant behavior is the sign that he is indeed a man after God’s own heart, even though he has sinned so appallingly. After the mourning period, David and Bathsheba produce another son, and on Nathan’s instructions they name him Jedidiah, which means Beloved of the Lord. And so once again we learn from Scripture that God is to be trusted, that God’s loving kindness never ceases, and that no matter what we do there is always a way back.
The Gospel story doesn’t have quite such a neat and tidy moral: we are still early in John’s Gospel, and there’s a long way to go before the disciples and the crowds start to figure out just how much Jesus is offering them. But we know the rest of the story; we know that Jesus will reveal himself to be God incarnate, the great I AM; we know that Jesus will submit to the powers of evil and ultimately triumph over death itself. We know that God’s promises will be fulfilled in Jesus, and that we, like those crowds, are offered bread from heaven, bread that will last, bread that continues to give life to the world.
Like those ancient crowds we are still on a journey of discovery, a lifetime of learning the greatness of God’s love. And so, as the letter to the Ephesians tells us, “We must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body’s growth in building itself up in love.” This is our calling, to grow together into the full stature of Christ, so that the sacred bread which we eat, which is the body of Christ, may fill us up and ultimately bring us to the fullness of God’s Kingdom. Lord, give us this bread always. Amen.
