Taking and offering
Commentary
Object:
When do we have enough? When do we feel compelled to take something more, as David did in claiming of Bathsheba, and when are we free to offer what we have, as the unnamed boy did in John’s account of the feeding of the 5,000? Today’s readings provide rich food for reflection on the nature of true wealth and true poverty in our lives with God and with one another.
2 Samuel 11:1-15
Our six-week series of heroic stories of David, who in last Sunday’s reading received God’s promise of an eternal dynasty through the prophet Nathan, comes to an abrupt halt today as we hear the story of David’s treachery against Bathsheba and Uriah the Hittite. While we are given a factual account of the events that led to Uriah’s death in battle by David’s order, much is left out of the story. Why was David in Jerusalem and not out fighting with his army? Why was Bathsheba bathing on the roof where David or others would be able to see her? David was not shy about his desire for Bathsheba -- he sent his servants to bring her to him. So why did he try to cover up her pregnancy when their affair was quite probably palace, if not public, knowledge? If servants had been taking messages back and forth between David’s and Uriah’s households, was Uriah really oblivious to what was happening when David called him back from the battlefield and urged him to visit Bathsheba? Did Uriah knowingly refuse to go along with David’s plans to cover up the pregnancy? Did Uriah know he was carrying his own death warrant back to the battlefield? Could he have thought Bathsheba and the child would be better off in David’s household? So many questions.
The one thing that is clear is that David sinned. Not once but multiple times, and quite terribly, all out of his own selfishness. His power as king and his indulging of personal whims led to the death not only of Uriah but also of several of Uriah’s fellow soldiers, whom Joab pushed into fierce fighting with Uriah in order that Uriah might be killed (2 Samuel 11:16-17). Uriah, along with Eliam (who may have been the same Eliam who was Bathsheba’s father), appears in a list of David’s elite fighting corps of 30-odd men (2 Samuel 23:34, 39). David’s treachery was not simply against a neighbor and a soldier in his army, but against one (or two) of his trusted inner circle who had fought for David for years. Next Sunday’s reading recounts Nathan’s condemnation of David, but the lectionary skips over the ensuing death of David and Bathsheba’s child. Joab, David’s nephew and the commander who carried out David’s orders to have Uriah killed in battle, goes on to disobey later orders from David, and kills David’s son Absalom despite David’s orders to deal gently with this son who has rebelled against him (2 Samuel 12-15). On his deathbed, David tells his son Solomon (whose mother was Bathsheba) to have Joab killed (1 Kings 2:5-6), an order Solomon carries out, even as Joab flees to the tent of the Lord and grasps the horns of the altar (1 Kings 2:28-34). The treachery instigated by David’s claiming of Bathsheba reverberates across the years and generations. Continuing this theme, some preachers may also wish to note that the story following this one in 2 Samuel, which the three-year lectionary omits entirely, is the terrible story of Amnon’s rape of his sister Tamar and of Absalom’s carefully plotted revenge killing of Amnon (2 Samuel 13). David’s sons clearly followed the precedent set by their father in his conduct with Bathsheba, Uriah, and Joab.
Ephesians 3:14-21
Scholarly opinion is divided as to whether Paul himself wrote the letter we call the Letter to the Ephesians, or whether a disciple of Paul’s wrote the letter pseudonymously sometime after Paul’s death. Regardless of author, this letter likely was not limited to the church in Ephesus but was circulated through a number of Christian communities. The prayer that makes up today’s reading concludes a chapter that describes Paul’s calling to bring the gospel to the Gentiles. We can presume from the tone of the letter that it was directed to a Gentile audience and intended to guide them in growth in their lives in faith after baptism. Gentiles baptized at the time of the letter’s circulation would have faced continued challenges to their faith from false teachers and from competing religious traditions. This prayer is as apt today for new and growing Christians as it was at the time of its composition. Throughout Ephesians, the power and glory of God through Christ in history and all creation are praised. In today’s passage, the power of intercessory prayer is also deeply affirmed.
John 6:1-21
Today marks a transition in the summer lectionary from the gospel of Mark, read since the first Sunday of June, to the sixth chapter of the gospel of John, which we will read for five weeks before returning to Mark 7 at the end of August. Last Sunday’s reading excerpted from Mark 6 skipped over the feeding of the 5,000, but today we hear John’s version of that famous story, which is the only miracle of Jesus apart from the resurrection to appear in all four gospels. Matthew, Mark, and John -- but not Luke -- also follow the miraculous feeding with the story of Jesus walking on the water, which concludes our reading today.
Compared with the synoptic accounts, the gospel of John tells the story of the feeding of the 5,000 with some distinctive twists. To begin, John tells us uniquely in verse 4 that this miracle took place near Passover. While John does not tell of the institution of the Eucharist during the Last Supper, his recounting of this miracle is clearly eucharistic (“given thanks” in v. 11 is a translation of the Greek word from which we derive the word “eucharist”). Over the next three Sundays, the lectionary covers Jesus’ teaching on the bread of heaven after performing the miracle (John 6:24-58). Here, we find John’s version of the institution of the Eucharist, not at the Last Supper, but on a mountaintop near Tiberias.
In the synoptic gospels, the feeding of the 5,000 comes immediately after the story of the death of John the Baptist. John’s baptismal ministry to the masses is replaced by Jesus’ ministry of teaching and feeding (actions repeated to this day by those churches that celebrate the liturgy of the word followed by the liturgy of Holy Communion). In Mark and Luke, the twelve have also been sent out two by two to share the Good News and have just returned to Jesus full of stories to tell him. But in John, Jesus’ interaction with the disciples and the crowds is different. There is no note of teaching, and the disciples have never left him. Instead Jesus goes up the mountain with his disciples, and when he sees a large crowd approaching he asks Philip “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” in order to test Philip, for Jesus already knew what he was going to do (John 6:5-6). In all the synoptic accounts Jesus has been teaching the crowd until evening, and the disciples urge him to send the crowd away to the surrounding villages to eat. Jesus asks the disciples what food they have, and in sharing it with the crowd it is multiplied. But in John an unnamed boy offers five barley loaves and two fish, and it is this offering that becomes the food for the crowd. John also uniquely specifies that these are not simply loaves but barley loaves. This reference to barley loaves echoes the miracle story in 2 Kings 4:42-44, in which Elisha feeds 100 people with 20 barley loaves, and helps to deepen our understanding of the people’s response “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world” (John 6:14). Jesus has just followed Elisha’s example, but in a far more extraordinary way. In all four gospel accounts the people eat and are satisfied, and twelve baskets of fragments are collected after the meal -- a number clearly reminiscent of the twelve tribes of Israel. Only John’s gospel records any response of the crowd to the miraculous feeding, and in John it is quite dramatic: They proclaim he is a prophet and come near to taking Jesus by force to make him king (John 6:14-15).
The ensuing story of Jesus walking on the water is at its simplest telling in John’s gospel. Matthew adds a part about Peter trying to walk on the water toward Jesus but sinking (Matthew 14:28-31), while Mark notes that the disciples were astounded, but their hearts were hardened and they did not understand about the loaves (Mark 6:52). In John, there is no commentary on the disciples’ faith or doubt. Jesus tells the fearful disciples “It is I,” a clear claiming of the divine name “I am.” With these words, Jesus is revealed not simply as a prophet capable of miracles, but as the incarnation of the true and living God.
Application
I am struck by the contrast between taking, which David in his kingly power does in his conduct with Bathsheba and Uriah, and offering, which the unnamed boy does in John’s story of the feeding of the 5,000. In the United States, our history and dominant culture emphasize the rights of the individual. This works for good as we continue to progress in recognizing and redressing discrimination based on difference -- in such areas as race, gender, sexuality, and physical and mental ability. But it works for ill in fostering an adversarial mindset where relationships can be less valued than the assertion of individual rights or desires. David, in American terms, pursues his happiness when he sends for Bathsheba. But he does so purely out of self-interest, with no regard for Bathsheba’s welfare or the relationships he has with Uriah and Eliam (Bathsheba’s father). The consequences are terrible indeed.
We are often told that we live in a consumer society, and this is true. One of the great changes of the industrial age has been what some scholars call the separation of production and consumption. Once most of what we ate, wore, and used was made locally. We knew where it came from, and we had some part in the economy that grew and processed food, and made clothing, tools, and shelter. We were producers as well as consumers. Today, this act of production/creation of what we use in everyday life is divorced in time and space from our consumption. We don’t see the people, and we don’t know the consequences in society and the environment of the many things we buy, use, and discard. Both advertisers and the government encourage our consumption. I still recall how President George W. Bush encouraged Americans to support the Iraq war effort by going shopping. Previous generations may have made sacrifices and worked harder to support their country in a time of conflict, but now we are supposed simply to keep the wheels of our consumer economy turning, no matter the cost to our families or the wider world. Wherever possible, we are encouraged to buy cheap food, cheap clothing, and ever-cheaper disposable goods that stream into our stores and homes. We take rather than make.
The young boy in John’s story works out of a different mindset -- not of pursuing his own personal pleasure and taking whatever he feels he has a right to have, but of offering what he has, however small that may be. He keeps good company with the widow and her mite. Paradoxically, though he has little, because he feels free to offer what he has he lives out of a place of generosity and abundance, and this generosity and abundance is magnified in the miracle Jesus performs. David, with all his power and riches, acts out of a spirit of poverty when he sends for Bathsheba. He is not satisfied with what he has; he wants more, and he takes no heed of the cost.
My husband grew up in Calcutta, India, and we travel there every couple of years to see his family. At home in Massachusetts, I volunteer with our local food pantry and with a ministry to the homeless in downtown Boston. These experiences give me much to reflect on when it comes to poverty and wealth. The poor in Calcutta often live in communities and families rich in connections and mutual support. When this is true, their material poverty matters less. Others in Calcutta are recent migrants or refugees, far from familial support and/or suffering from past trauma, and their circumstances in so many ways are far more desperate. Among the homeless I converse with in Boston, some are at peace with themselves and their circumstances in remarkable ways, while others fight addictions and are filled with bitterness about their lives. Poverty and wealth are about so much more than the money we have and the things we do or do not possess. Recognizing what we have and feeling free to share it are the marks of true wealth. The unnamed boy did not consider his five loaves and two fish too paltry to bother with. He gave what he had, and that offering made all the difference. Perhaps, as some argue, his offering inspired others in the crowd to share what they had, so everyone was fed. If that was the case, it is miracle enough. Perhaps Jesus truly did feed 5,000 people from five barley loaves and two fish. I don’t know. What I do know is that when we offer what we have to God and give it away, remarkable things happen. The hand and the heart that are open to give are also open to receive. In this culture of consumption that depends on our wanting ever more, we may need to help each other see the things we already have and the gifts and abilities we already possess. Whenever we have enough to give away, we are rich. Whenever we spend our energies and efforts conspiring to get one thing more, we are poor -- no matter how much we may already have.
2 Samuel 11:1-15
Our six-week series of heroic stories of David, who in last Sunday’s reading received God’s promise of an eternal dynasty through the prophet Nathan, comes to an abrupt halt today as we hear the story of David’s treachery against Bathsheba and Uriah the Hittite. While we are given a factual account of the events that led to Uriah’s death in battle by David’s order, much is left out of the story. Why was David in Jerusalem and not out fighting with his army? Why was Bathsheba bathing on the roof where David or others would be able to see her? David was not shy about his desire for Bathsheba -- he sent his servants to bring her to him. So why did he try to cover up her pregnancy when their affair was quite probably palace, if not public, knowledge? If servants had been taking messages back and forth between David’s and Uriah’s households, was Uriah really oblivious to what was happening when David called him back from the battlefield and urged him to visit Bathsheba? Did Uriah knowingly refuse to go along with David’s plans to cover up the pregnancy? Did Uriah know he was carrying his own death warrant back to the battlefield? Could he have thought Bathsheba and the child would be better off in David’s household? So many questions.
The one thing that is clear is that David sinned. Not once but multiple times, and quite terribly, all out of his own selfishness. His power as king and his indulging of personal whims led to the death not only of Uriah but also of several of Uriah’s fellow soldiers, whom Joab pushed into fierce fighting with Uriah in order that Uriah might be killed (2 Samuel 11:16-17). Uriah, along with Eliam (who may have been the same Eliam who was Bathsheba’s father), appears in a list of David’s elite fighting corps of 30-odd men (2 Samuel 23:34, 39). David’s treachery was not simply against a neighbor and a soldier in his army, but against one (or two) of his trusted inner circle who had fought for David for years. Next Sunday’s reading recounts Nathan’s condemnation of David, but the lectionary skips over the ensuing death of David and Bathsheba’s child. Joab, David’s nephew and the commander who carried out David’s orders to have Uriah killed in battle, goes on to disobey later orders from David, and kills David’s son Absalom despite David’s orders to deal gently with this son who has rebelled against him (2 Samuel 12-15). On his deathbed, David tells his son Solomon (whose mother was Bathsheba) to have Joab killed (1 Kings 2:5-6), an order Solomon carries out, even as Joab flees to the tent of the Lord and grasps the horns of the altar (1 Kings 2:28-34). The treachery instigated by David’s claiming of Bathsheba reverberates across the years and generations. Continuing this theme, some preachers may also wish to note that the story following this one in 2 Samuel, which the three-year lectionary omits entirely, is the terrible story of Amnon’s rape of his sister Tamar and of Absalom’s carefully plotted revenge killing of Amnon (2 Samuel 13). David’s sons clearly followed the precedent set by their father in his conduct with Bathsheba, Uriah, and Joab.
Ephesians 3:14-21
Scholarly opinion is divided as to whether Paul himself wrote the letter we call the Letter to the Ephesians, or whether a disciple of Paul’s wrote the letter pseudonymously sometime after Paul’s death. Regardless of author, this letter likely was not limited to the church in Ephesus but was circulated through a number of Christian communities. The prayer that makes up today’s reading concludes a chapter that describes Paul’s calling to bring the gospel to the Gentiles. We can presume from the tone of the letter that it was directed to a Gentile audience and intended to guide them in growth in their lives in faith after baptism. Gentiles baptized at the time of the letter’s circulation would have faced continued challenges to their faith from false teachers and from competing religious traditions. This prayer is as apt today for new and growing Christians as it was at the time of its composition. Throughout Ephesians, the power and glory of God through Christ in history and all creation are praised. In today’s passage, the power of intercessory prayer is also deeply affirmed.
John 6:1-21
Today marks a transition in the summer lectionary from the gospel of Mark, read since the first Sunday of June, to the sixth chapter of the gospel of John, which we will read for five weeks before returning to Mark 7 at the end of August. Last Sunday’s reading excerpted from Mark 6 skipped over the feeding of the 5,000, but today we hear John’s version of that famous story, which is the only miracle of Jesus apart from the resurrection to appear in all four gospels. Matthew, Mark, and John -- but not Luke -- also follow the miraculous feeding with the story of Jesus walking on the water, which concludes our reading today.
Compared with the synoptic accounts, the gospel of John tells the story of the feeding of the 5,000 with some distinctive twists. To begin, John tells us uniquely in verse 4 that this miracle took place near Passover. While John does not tell of the institution of the Eucharist during the Last Supper, his recounting of this miracle is clearly eucharistic (“given thanks” in v. 11 is a translation of the Greek word from which we derive the word “eucharist”). Over the next three Sundays, the lectionary covers Jesus’ teaching on the bread of heaven after performing the miracle (John 6:24-58). Here, we find John’s version of the institution of the Eucharist, not at the Last Supper, but on a mountaintop near Tiberias.
In the synoptic gospels, the feeding of the 5,000 comes immediately after the story of the death of John the Baptist. John’s baptismal ministry to the masses is replaced by Jesus’ ministry of teaching and feeding (actions repeated to this day by those churches that celebrate the liturgy of the word followed by the liturgy of Holy Communion). In Mark and Luke, the twelve have also been sent out two by two to share the Good News and have just returned to Jesus full of stories to tell him. But in John, Jesus’ interaction with the disciples and the crowds is different. There is no note of teaching, and the disciples have never left him. Instead Jesus goes up the mountain with his disciples, and when he sees a large crowd approaching he asks Philip “Where are we to buy bread for these people to eat?” in order to test Philip, for Jesus already knew what he was going to do (John 6:5-6). In all the synoptic accounts Jesus has been teaching the crowd until evening, and the disciples urge him to send the crowd away to the surrounding villages to eat. Jesus asks the disciples what food they have, and in sharing it with the crowd it is multiplied. But in John an unnamed boy offers five barley loaves and two fish, and it is this offering that becomes the food for the crowd. John also uniquely specifies that these are not simply loaves but barley loaves. This reference to barley loaves echoes the miracle story in 2 Kings 4:42-44, in which Elisha feeds 100 people with 20 barley loaves, and helps to deepen our understanding of the people’s response “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world” (John 6:14). Jesus has just followed Elisha’s example, but in a far more extraordinary way. In all four gospel accounts the people eat and are satisfied, and twelve baskets of fragments are collected after the meal -- a number clearly reminiscent of the twelve tribes of Israel. Only John’s gospel records any response of the crowd to the miraculous feeding, and in John it is quite dramatic: They proclaim he is a prophet and come near to taking Jesus by force to make him king (John 6:14-15).
The ensuing story of Jesus walking on the water is at its simplest telling in John’s gospel. Matthew adds a part about Peter trying to walk on the water toward Jesus but sinking (Matthew 14:28-31), while Mark notes that the disciples were astounded, but their hearts were hardened and they did not understand about the loaves (Mark 6:52). In John, there is no commentary on the disciples’ faith or doubt. Jesus tells the fearful disciples “It is I,” a clear claiming of the divine name “I am.” With these words, Jesus is revealed not simply as a prophet capable of miracles, but as the incarnation of the true and living God.
Application
I am struck by the contrast between taking, which David in his kingly power does in his conduct with Bathsheba and Uriah, and offering, which the unnamed boy does in John’s story of the feeding of the 5,000. In the United States, our history and dominant culture emphasize the rights of the individual. This works for good as we continue to progress in recognizing and redressing discrimination based on difference -- in such areas as race, gender, sexuality, and physical and mental ability. But it works for ill in fostering an adversarial mindset where relationships can be less valued than the assertion of individual rights or desires. David, in American terms, pursues his happiness when he sends for Bathsheba. But he does so purely out of self-interest, with no regard for Bathsheba’s welfare or the relationships he has with Uriah and Eliam (Bathsheba’s father). The consequences are terrible indeed.
We are often told that we live in a consumer society, and this is true. One of the great changes of the industrial age has been what some scholars call the separation of production and consumption. Once most of what we ate, wore, and used was made locally. We knew where it came from, and we had some part in the economy that grew and processed food, and made clothing, tools, and shelter. We were producers as well as consumers. Today, this act of production/creation of what we use in everyday life is divorced in time and space from our consumption. We don’t see the people, and we don’t know the consequences in society and the environment of the many things we buy, use, and discard. Both advertisers and the government encourage our consumption. I still recall how President George W. Bush encouraged Americans to support the Iraq war effort by going shopping. Previous generations may have made sacrifices and worked harder to support their country in a time of conflict, but now we are supposed simply to keep the wheels of our consumer economy turning, no matter the cost to our families or the wider world. Wherever possible, we are encouraged to buy cheap food, cheap clothing, and ever-cheaper disposable goods that stream into our stores and homes. We take rather than make.
The young boy in John’s story works out of a different mindset -- not of pursuing his own personal pleasure and taking whatever he feels he has a right to have, but of offering what he has, however small that may be. He keeps good company with the widow and her mite. Paradoxically, though he has little, because he feels free to offer what he has he lives out of a place of generosity and abundance, and this generosity and abundance is magnified in the miracle Jesus performs. David, with all his power and riches, acts out of a spirit of poverty when he sends for Bathsheba. He is not satisfied with what he has; he wants more, and he takes no heed of the cost.
My husband grew up in Calcutta, India, and we travel there every couple of years to see his family. At home in Massachusetts, I volunteer with our local food pantry and with a ministry to the homeless in downtown Boston. These experiences give me much to reflect on when it comes to poverty and wealth. The poor in Calcutta often live in communities and families rich in connections and mutual support. When this is true, their material poverty matters less. Others in Calcutta are recent migrants or refugees, far from familial support and/or suffering from past trauma, and their circumstances in so many ways are far more desperate. Among the homeless I converse with in Boston, some are at peace with themselves and their circumstances in remarkable ways, while others fight addictions and are filled with bitterness about their lives. Poverty and wealth are about so much more than the money we have and the things we do or do not possess. Recognizing what we have and feeling free to share it are the marks of true wealth. The unnamed boy did not consider his five loaves and two fish too paltry to bother with. He gave what he had, and that offering made all the difference. Perhaps, as some argue, his offering inspired others in the crowd to share what they had, so everyone was fed. If that was the case, it is miracle enough. Perhaps Jesus truly did feed 5,000 people from five barley loaves and two fish. I don’t know. What I do know is that when we offer what we have to God and give it away, remarkable things happen. The hand and the heart that are open to give are also open to receive. In this culture of consumption that depends on our wanting ever more, we may need to help each other see the things we already have and the gifts and abilities we already possess. Whenever we have enough to give away, we are rich. Whenever we spend our energies and efforts conspiring to get one thing more, we are poor -- no matter how much we may already have.
