2 CHRONICLES 36:14-23

PSALM 122

EPHESIANS 2:4-10

JOHN 6:4-15

Sermon – March 26, 2006

Healing and Bread

To experience today’s Gospel reading, I’d like to invite you to share with me a journey of the imagination. Please close your eyes, and imagine that you are experiencing a warm, sunny Spring day. You’re on a sailboat with several other people, crossing a large lake. The area around the lake is hilly, with rocky outcrops interspersed with broad, grassy areas dotted with wild flowers.

Your fellow passengers are chatting in what sounds something like Hebrew. All are wearing robes made out of coarse material. Men sit in the boat separately from women and children. Suddenly you come to a dock, and everyone – the crew included – spills out. Everyone else seems to know where they are, why they are there and where they want to go, as they scramble up a rough path heading into the hills.

You follow along slowly. As you look at the path ahead, you are disgusted to see what looks like litter strewn on both sides of it. It seems so out of place in this beautiful, rustic, deserted land. Then you come close and realize that it’s like no litter that you have ever seen before.

First you come across bandages, some still covered with pus. They have been ripped off and thrown away, as though they were not needed anymore. Then there are the slings that once supported broken arms but also were thrown away by their owners, left to blow in the little breezes.

Then you start finding crutches.

That must be what they are. They, too, are left by the side of the path, no longer needed by their owners. And stretchers. You’ve never seen so many discarded stretchers in your life. And canes – many well worn, showing signs of long use. But their owners don’t need them any more. You start to get goose bumps.

And then you stop, frozen in place. Slowly, you pick up a white cane.

Now you know for sure when you are, where you are, and who all these people were with as they walked up this long path. There’s another white cane, then another.

The only way someone would discard a white cane and continue walking, unaided, was if they had met Jesus. If the face of Jesus was the first sight they had ever seen. For some others, his was the first voice they had ever heard. The words of Isaiah come pouring into your mind:

“Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sign for joy.”

And you start to run – run as you have never run before in your life. You crest the top of the hill and – you are not too late.

There he is, unmistakable. Somehow, you can both hear and understand his voice. Words you have read or heard before come to you, fresh and vivid.

Then he pauses. The crowd is vast – the men alone, all on one side of the hill, must number 5,000, and there may be at least as many women and children. You have come in right at the border of the two groups.

The crowd is getting restless. Some, apparently, have been here quite a while, and you notice that the sun has dropped noticeably in the sky since you arrived at the dock.

Suddenly, there is a commotion near you. It’s a small boy, trying to make his way through the crowd, carrying a basket with two fish and – five, that’s right, five loaves. It must be his whole family’s meal. He elbows his way right past you and you can see that they are barley loaves, the kind bought by people who can’t afford wheat bread. The boy himself is barefoot, dressed in rags, and he smells. “Excuse me, excuse me, I’ve got to get to Jesus,” he keeps saying. Some in the crowd make way, others grumble about “that pushy kid”, while more than a couple try to steal from his basket.

Finally, you can see him reach the top of the hill, where Jesus, now speaking too softly for you to hear, is conversing with one of his disciples, who is shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, then showing Jesus the only two coins in his own money pouch.

The boy tugs on the robe of another disciple, who bends over to hear him. The adult covers his mouth to stifle a laugh. The boy stamps his foot insistently. You can almost see the tears on the boy’s dirty cheek. Embarrassed, the disciple turns and touches the shoulder of the disciple whose two coins are now securely back inside his robe, whispers, and then they escort the boy to Jesus.

Jesus solemnly receives the boy’s offering, and picks him up, hugs him, and twirls him around in his arms. Then he gives the boy a front row seat next to him and motions for everyone to sit down.

You watch as Jesus takes bread, raises his eyes and his hand to heaven in blessing, breaks the bread and starts distributing it. The little boy is the first one to get a piece, right from the hand of Jesus, who smiles and winks at him.

Somehow the disciples have come up with a dozen empty baskets, which Jesus keeps filling, and filling, and filling. They fan out across the whole crowd. Jesus takes a basket too – and heads right for you, accompanied by the little boy, who carries his basket, now overflowing with bread and fish.

Jesus walks up to you, looks deep into your eyes and says, “I have healed many people here who had many problems. What do you want me to do for you?” You swallow, stammer and finally whisper to him your deepest need.

Jesus puts both of his hands on your head and begins to pray quietly. Every cell of your body tingles when he touches you. You feel a rush of well-being, then deep serenity, and clearer purpose. He takes his hands down from your head, picks up a piece of bread and puts it in your hand while saying, “This is my body given for you.”

And then he smiles and says, “I will be with you always, even to the end of the Age.”

And then he vanishes, as well as the boy, the crowd and the hillside, and you open your eyes and find yourself back in the 21^st Century and in St. Barnabas.

But you remember that Jesus’ words, thanks to the Bible, are still with you, that his healing power is still active in the world, and that he still offers his people food for their journeys through the Holy Eucharist. Our understanding, our healing, and having all our other genuine needs fully met will not be complete in this lifetime, but we are fed by him with some understanding, healing and bread for our journeys, all made possible by his presence, as he promised, wherever two or three are gathered together in his Name.

(The Rev.) Francis A. Hubbard

St. Barnabas Episcopal Church