The Work of God

Scriptures:     James 1:16-27, John 6:25-40

Jesus was a great psychologist. He had this uncanny ability to see beneath the surface of a person’s motivation and discover what really made them tick. Think about his encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, as told in the fourth chapter of John – not only did he know some rather incredible things about her past life and relationships with men, but more importantly he knew what she really needed. And now here in John 6 he takes what is a seemingly superficial, awe-stricken attitude on the part of what John calls “the crowd” toward miracles he has performed and gives it a half-twist, putting what in current journalistic slang we would call a “spin” on it to bring his listeners to focus on the meaning of eternal life.

It’s the day after Jesus had helped to crowd to enjoy the blessings of many loaves and fishes (which, incidentally, you’re going to hear more about from Russ this July). It is also after he had walked across the water in order to still both the external storm and the storm in their hearts. He had crossed the Sea of Galilee, going by himself into Capernaum, and there is where the crowd of people caught up with him. Why is the crowd seeking him out? Jesus knows full well that it’s because of his miraculous activity of the previous day, not because of his message about God’s love for everyone. In other words, the crowd was not seeking him out for himself but in the hope of seeing another miracle. Just so, do we find our heads turned by someone, anyone, be they politician, religious leader, even spouse or partner, who promises more than we can find in ourselves.

But now see what Jesus does with this motivation to seek out a miracle. He is realistic enough to accept the fact that for most people what he did was more important than who he is, and he is clear about this when he says, “Very truly, I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves.” Now, this rebuke is really a rather mild one; we can almost see the gentle smile on Jesus’ face as he offers it. And the mildness of the rebuke should give us some pause if we are too quick to question someone’s motivation, for example (thinking about our mayoral election): “Oh, she’s just coming to church because there’s an election around the corner, and she wants to get our vote;” or, perhaps even more mundanely, “Oh, he’s just coming to church because he wants to show off his new suit.” What Jesus then does is to go beyond rebuke to seize the opportunity to offer a remarkable insight about faith. Two things are going on here: Christ is not only teaching us the central truth that we are not to judge others’ motivations lest we be ourselves judged, he is also helping us to see what motivations are important for faith.

When it comes to such things as faith and love a whole different rationale comes into play upon our motivations and actions. When we start to raise questions such as: “Why do I have faith in this person?”, “Why do I love that person?”, “Why do I follow Christ?”, “Why do I believe in God?”, there are different criteria for the “because” answers than for those to such questions as “Why do I go to church?”, or “Why do I choose one job over another?”. Jesus says to the crowd – to us – in this passage that a miracle – such as multiplying the loaves and fish – is at best a secondary motivation toward belief. Miracles grow out of our faith, rather than become the basis for belief. If your faith is based on a miraculous demonstration of God’s existence, you are bound to be ultimately disillusioned. Jesus here is turning askew the way some people try to come to God: instead of saying, as some do, “Show me that you exist and then I’ll believe in you,” Jesus here demonstrates that the way to faith is more like, “Believe in me and then I’ll show you what faith can do.” Our first knowledge of God comes through an act of faith. Our motivation to believe is simply belief itself.

Jesus calls this approach to faith “the food that endures for eternal life.” Belief is based on who God is and how we see God in Jesus the Christ rather than on what God has done or promised. That’s why our communion service is meant to demonstrate not so much the miraculous – not even the miracle of resurrection – but rather the presence of Christ in past, present, and future. Before this crowd Christ identifies himself as “the bread of life”, even as before the Samaritan woman at the well he offers himself as “living water”, which “gives life to the world”. And like the woman at the well the people realized what they were being given and how important it was, and so they respond simply, profoundly: “sir, give us this bread always.’” To identify Christ as “the bread of life”, so that whoever comes to him “will never be hungry” and “will never be thirsty”, is to see in these simple elements a spiritual food that takes us beyond both the ordinary and the miraculous into a new reality which is the ever-present Christ among us.

But once we’ve gotten a glimpse of this new reality our former motivations are brought into question. Like the crowd, therefore, we may well be led to ask the perceptive question, “What must we do to perform the works of God?” And, once again, Jesus turns the question on its side, responding in a way that must have initially baffled them: “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” What Jesus is saying is that it is the person and the presence of the Christ that is ultimately important for the life and work of faith. Our “works” – that is, our specific actions – are only possible because of the presence of Christ. The “work of God” cannot be separated from the “word of God” – which is Christ himself. To accept the “bread of life” – as we do when we take communion – is a different kind of response to the love of God made real in Jesus the Christ than is buying, or baking, or working for bread – of even, as had been the case with this crowd just the day before, accepting bread as a miraculous gift.

Now, the problem here, of course, is that this insight into the nature of faith can easily be perverted into a “do-nothing” attitude. Yes, we are saved by grace through faith. Yes, what we do is not going to change our relationship to God. Yes, we cannot buy or work our way into God’s grace through good deeds. Yes, the work of God is simply to believe in God’s Son. The main problem with a “works-righteousness” is that it causes us to try to judge our own spirituality in terms of what we have done – and this is to play false with the whole New Testament, to try to use our religion to “manage” God. But God is not managed.

However, once we know that our work is not what saves us, we should not then fall into the trap of seeing it as unimportant. Our actions are our response to God’s grace. Whether it’s working in the Thrift Shop or for the bread run or the food pantry here in our local church, or whether it’s joining with others to find ways to speed disarmament and world peace, or whether it’s (as the letter of James says) “to care for orphans and widows in their distress”, these deeds which spring forth from our faith give shape and meaning to the motivations which have led us to faith in the first place.

Last August we observed the 65^th anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima – although “anniversary” seems almost too celebratory a word in this context. And isn’t it incredible that for those of us who were alive during World War II we have now reached a point where those of us who remember Hiroshima are well beyond retirement age. When I was with the National Council of Churches I participated in the shooting of a documentary on housing, part of which was set in Japan, and while there I was able to visit the peace park that now exists on the site where that bomb was dropped. I experienced in an incredibly profound way (as do most who come there) the hope that has grown up out of the ashes of such an immense tragedy. When you look at those thousands of small origami paper cranes left there by school children, you realize that it is the hundreds of thousands of individual actions which build that hope. The work of God is being done in that place.

Bill J. Leonard, writing in The Christian Century, ties these many strands together when he says, “We remember Golgotha, Hiroshima and all the terrible places when we come to the table. Here we speak again of ultimate tragedy of innocence, of evil and of the wages of sin. We speak of body and blood, of life and death given for the world. But at the table we remember something else: …that the death of Christ carries with it the promise of resurrection for the faithful and the innocent. To long for peace, to remember the terrible places, is not the end.”

We do not believe in God or in God’s salvation because of our work. But because we do believe in God we are given work to do – especially the work of bringing peace into a fragile world. Even if, somehow, miraculously, by our actions such peace does come, that will not save us. But it will be a witness to that grace which comes from the work of God – that work which is to believe in God’s Son – and which we now receive through this bread and wine of life.

 

Amen.

Dave Pomeroy

First Congregational Church, UCC
Las Vegas, NV
June 5, 2011

prayer

Lord God of light and wisdom, we constantly want more light to shine on our human endeavors and that greater wisdom prevail in the affairs of human beings. Help us not to close our minds to the truth that comes from you. So often the forms of what we believe to be religious life get in the way of perceiving wisdom from your perspective. Help us to be on the alert for new ways of understanding which we can then apply to our problems. So often we are too ready simply to accept patterns of thought which we have been given from our past. Help us to search out your insights even in the unlikely places, so that we will discover truth wherever it may appear. So often we think that truth can come only in specific, pre-packaged forms which conform to our own expectations.

Lord God of sensitivity and service, we constantly need to become more sensitive and to be shown paths of service. If we are to do your will, we can begin by demonstrating sensitivity to the needs of others – and then acting upon that sensitivity. Help us to be more aware of what is being said beneath the surface of our conversations. So often we are willing to take what is presented to us on face value. Help us truly to listen when a concern is being presented. So often we are too concerned about telling our problem. Help us to seek out needs beyond our circle of friends or community activities. So often we are constrained by that which we know and which is familiar. In all things: being sensitive, giving service, searching for light and wisdom, we seek to follow the example of your Son, in whose name we pray, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen