Lectionary Commentaries for July 28, 2024
Tenth Sunday after Pentecost

The opening of John 6 includes Jesus’ miraculous provision of food and his crossing the Sea of Galilee that divinely transports his disciples to the other side. These events form the foundation for Jesus’ Bread of Life discourse in the later part of the chapter (6:25–58). In John 6:1–21, Jesus both feeds the crowd and tests his disciples as he reveals himself, and God, to them. Rather than accepting the crowd’s shortsighted confession, or forsaking his overconfident disciples, Jesus challenges those who follow to know him as the “I am” and, in so doing, to let go of their desire to control him.

Our passage can be divided into three shorter portions. John 6:1–4 provides the setting and introduces the main characters; 6:5–15 describes the feeding miracle and its immediate aftermath; 6:16–21 narrates the disciples’ departure across the sea and Jesus’ later joining them with his revelatory “I am” upon the water. 

In verses 1–4 we learn that Jesus is sitting upon a mountain with his disciples near the Sea of Galilee shoreline. Even though Passover “is near,” Jesus does not seem in any rush to hurry back to Jerusalem after his last encounter in John 5. At the same time, Jesus is continuing his work from John 5, where he first cured a man who was stuck next to the Pool of Bethsaida for 38 years because of his “illness” or “weakness” (astheneia; 5:5). In John 6:3, we learn that Jesus is still curing the “weak” or “sick ones” (tōn asthenoutōn) brought to him. 

Jesus’ “signs” (sēmeia) are a common occurrence in Galilee (2:11, 18, 23; 4:48, 54), and while their revelation is profound, people often need further divine assistance to get the whole picture of Jesus’ identity (see also 2:23–25; 4:43–48; 9:40–41).

With all these people gathered around him, Jesus sets in motion the events of John 6:5–15 with a question directed at Philip but meant for all the disciples gathered with him. Philip was among the first disciples to follow Jesus, having been “found” and called by Jesus in 1:43–44. In fact, Philip is from the same hometown as Andrew and Simon Peter, who will also have speaking roles later in John 6. Instead of commanding Philip as in 1:43, Jesus now questions him: “Where shall we buy loaves so that these ones might eat?” (6:5, my translation). Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t ask if the people should be fed but, rather, how they can be fed. 

Even as Philip ponders (or panics!), the narrator tells us Jesus is not just asking Philip; he’s testing (peirazōn) him. Jesus, it turns out, “already knew what he was about to do” (6:6). This testing element often makes us uncomfortable because it seems more like the devil’s domain from Jesus’ time in the wilderness from the Synoptic tradition (see Matthew 4:1; Mark 1:13; Luke 4:2). In John’s Gospel, however, Jesus routinely challenges those who have confessed faith in him; he is constantly pushing to see just how sincere or robust that faith is (for example, 6:22–71; 8:31–59; 13:36–38). 

Jesus ultimately feeds the crowd with five loaves and two fish that Andrew brings him, leaving enough surplus that his disciples must gather the leftovers in 12 baskets (6:11–13). Jesus’ choice to have the disciples themselves collect the remainder is powerful; he is demonstrating to them that he can provide more than enough. The crowd, it seems, is convinced—at least of something. They try to make Jesus “king,” but he retreats, leaving his disciples for a time and allowing them to make another choice: do they wait or try to cross the sea without him?

Arguably, Jesus’ retreat from the crowd and from his disciples continues the test begun in 6:5. And once again, the disciples’ response is problematic—they leave behind the one they profess to follow! In 6:16–17 the narrator tells us they “went down to the sea, got into a boat, and started across the sea to Capernaum. It was now dark, and Jesus had not yet come to them” (New Revised Standard Version). These disciples have left the “true Light” (1:9) and are now upon the waters of chaos in darkness. Even as the sea begins to churn because of a “strong wind” (anemou megalou), they continue rowing out into the depths. They do not even seem to understand their precarious situation. 

Only when they see Jesus walking toward them upon the water do they become “terrified” (6:19). Rather than condemning them for their fear, however, Jesus calms them with a phrase: “I am; don’t fear anymore.” My translation highlights the revelatory nature of Jesus’ words. This isn’t a simple statement; it is a claim of divine presence. When we picture the scene, we join the disciples in seeing this epiphany, or theophany—an appearance of God in their midst. 

The disciples react much like the crowd in 6:14; they, too, want to claim Jesus for themselves by placing him in their boat. Seemingly during this action, however, the boat slides upon the sandbar, arriving on the other side of the lake. Long before his death and resurrection, Jesus appears suddenly, and he resists the claims others place upon him (see 20:11–31).

In John 6:1–21 we are also tested. We learn that Jesus provides more than we can anticipate and that he does not submit to our small definitions. When we take the surplus loaves and rush out ahead of Jesus, we can quickly find ourselves overwhelmed on dark and stormy seas. Jesus, though, does not abandon us. Instead, he joins us and reveals himself to us, providing a way forward that we cannot explain. Rather than claiming Jesus as one we can control and keep in our boats, then, we recognize that John’s Jesus reveals himself to be so much more. He beckons us to wait for fuller revelation and to hold fast to his hour instead of pushing our agendas upon him. 

Be sure to check out the blog article by Kendall Vanderslice on Preaching the Bread of Life series from John 6.

Elisha carries on the work of his prophet-mentor Elijah—to counter the powers and principalities of the world with the life-giving justice of Yahweh.

Life abundant for those on the margins

This section of 2 Kings revolves around “themes of fecundity, reproduction, and life.”¹ Elisha, who in his pre-prophet life worked as a farmer, is in the midst of these stories. As a prophet and farmer, Elisha co-conspires with God to bring life from compost, a life that provides for the community.

And who is closest to death in these episodes? Those who are victims of systems of the powerful. People on the margins are not given names in these episodes but represent the vulnerable in a society that does not funnel resources that allow for the flourishing of all (women and children, especially widows).

Elisha demonstrates prophetic solidarity with the poor and reveals to us just how close to poverty the prophets at this time were. Prophets of Yahweh do not use their power to get into the economic status of the rich and powerful. Rather, as was foreshadowed in the transition between Elijah and Elisha (2:9b), the prophet is empowered by ruach to feed, heal, and care for those on the margins of society. Their well-being did not come from the systems of political society. It came from God alone. No wonder Elisha’s name in Hebrew means “God is salvation.”

Reliance upon Yahweh persists in this story even though the prophets are living in a state of famine. In the verses preceding 42, Elisha performs a miracle with some flour to rectify an accidental poisoning of stew. The prophets were desperate to gather any growing thing from the ground for the stew, and one man unknowingly added a poisonous plant to the pot. Yahweh, through Elisha, provides for these marginalized prophets, transforming the poisonous forces of political systems into nourishing food.

These are the stories in conversation with this very short story of a miraculous feeding. It may be that the man who came from Baal-shalishah with food (4:42) is a wink to the original audience about the capacity of Yahweh’s prophets to transform the poison of Baal and other idols handed to the vulnerable into life-sustaining abundance.²

Participating in miracles: Echoes of Elisha in John 6

Certainly this text is here in the lectionary to amplify the John 6 feeding story. We are not in a cycle within 2 Kings that tells the full arc of the narrative of the monarchs. This sermon, without also preaching the feeding story in John this week, invites the congregation to know more fully the very prophets and scriptures that would have been on the minds of those who encountered Jesus as he associated with the poor and marginalized, countering the power and principalities of the world with the life-giving justice of Yahweh.

Rather than only preaching the similarities between Elisha and Jesus, we could amplify the co-conspirators who acted faithfully and assisted in the miracles of abundance in both stories. In 2 Kings, it is the servant, who faithfully prepared and shared the first fruits until all were satisfied. In John, it’s the boy (another marginalized person), who gives up his lunchbox contents to Andrew—seemingly unfazed by the masses who no doubt needed more than that to eat and be satisfied. Their faith and action are essential components of the miraculous feedings.

And if you wanted to preach the fullness of 2 Kings 4, you would also see the miraculous outcomes of persistent, faithful women in this book. First, the widow seeks compassionate help from Elisha (not a powerful king) and lets go of the last of her resources (a jar of oil) to provide for and protect her children from being taken into slavery (4:1–7). It should also be noted that her neighbors participate in the miracle as they share their jars with a widow in need. Then, the Great Woman of Shunem persists in receiving resurrection help from Elisha when her child dies (4:8–37). These women, children, and servants know that only Yahweh has the power of regeneration and resurrection. Kings and other idols offer false and empty promises.

The gospel of this text for churches today is that God continues to respond to the cries of those marginalized, starved, and oppressed by false gods and rulers. But we are invited to participate in miracles. It might be more correct to say our participation in miracles of healing in our neighborhoods is necessary. In these texts (2 Kings 4; John 6), God does not act unilaterally without human collaboration to bring life from death.

Notes

1. Song-Mi Suzie Park, “2 Kings 4:1–44: Fecundity, Reproduction, and Life,” in Wisdom Commentary (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2019), 39.
2. Ibid., 57–58.

The David and Bathsheba narrative is a compelling text that warns against unchecked power and lustful impulses. Since its placement in the biblical canon, Jewish and Christian audiences have contextualized this story to reflect on moral lessons.

The text highlights the spatial dimensions within this fast-paced narrative arc. These spatial dimensions assume meaningful boundaries that delineate levels of power. Jerusalem is protected and Rabbah is dangerous. The king’s palace issues commands and the battlefield receives them. Attention to these details can inspire new perspectives on the passage. Specifically, David and Uriah occupy different spaces that reflect their own deployment of agency and, ultimately, their moral standing. Bathsheba’s role underscores her own marginal status. Together, the passage uncovers a structural inequality that allows for the most egregious abuses of power.

David in elite spaces

From the opening verses, it is obvious that David has power and deploys this power. Consider his actions in the opening verses:

Verse 1 David sent Joab

David remained 

Verse 2 David rose and walked and saw

Verses 3–4 David sent (2x) and lay with her

David also stays within protected and elite boundaries. He sends his army to war with the Ammonites as he stays in Jerusalem (verse 1). He does not directly go to Bathsheba nor Joab nor Uriah, but sends for them to come to the royal residence (verses 4, 6). David tries to send Uriah down (verse 8) but fails (verses 9-11). David then plots murder against Uriah by sending him back (verse 12) and using royal power to write a letter (verse 14) that will effectively execute Uriah. 

This is a very different portrayal of David from his battle with Goliath. Rather than engaging in direct combat, David now deploys power from his protected space by writing letters. Rather than fighting battles for Israel (1 Samuel 8:20), David sends others. 

The language shows David as occupying the elevated space of a rooftop (verse 2) and a palace that is higher than the dwellings of others (verse 8), even his military officers. All this time, the soldiers and even the ark of God dwell in tents as David dwells in privileged surroundings (verse 11). The contrast between David in his royal dwelling and the ark in the tent is so stunning that it justifies Uriah’s disobedience to David’s command to go down to his house.

Uriah in battlefield spaces

Whereas David issues commands and dwells in privileged spaces, Uriah declines these opportunities. He is named as a Hittite; thus he is ethnically a foreigner from northern Anatolia, perhaps modern-day Turkey. He is a stated enemy of Israel (Deuteronomy 20:7). He comes from the battlefield at the call of David, but when given the opportunity to go down to his house and enjoy a conjugal visit with his wife, he chooses to sleep at the entrance of the king’s house with the servants. Uriah even receives a royal gift, with expectations of a patron-client relationship in which David would have some authority over Uriah. But Uriah does not listen to David. 

Despite invitations and promises of physical comfort, Uriah refuses to “go down” to spaces of comfort. David then invites Uriah inside the house for food and drink and again, Uriah does not go to his home. At the end of the narrative, Uriah is the victim of a plot to stage a battlefield death. Uriah the Hittite displays considerable character beyond that of King David.

Bathsheba in objectified spaces

A literary analysis of Bathsheba reveals her very limited agency in this narrative. She is introduced in her vulnerability while bathing, yet is in plain sight of the king. She is described at first by nothing except that she was “very beautiful,” only referring to her physical appearance. The Bible reveals her name as Bathsheba, but her identity is tied to her father Eliam and her husband, Uriah. By the end of the passage, she is only known as “the woman” (verse 5, 26). She is a grammatical indirect object in that David “sent messengers to get her.” The very “to get” (Heb. lqḫ) is the same verb used in the Bible for acquiring/purchasing commodities. 

Bathsheba goes up to David’s house. They have sexual relations (it is hard to imagine any scenario where this is consensual), and then she returns. The action of Bathsheba “purifying herself after her period” (verse 4) is consistent with the effort to wash off everything one can after rape. In addition to the physical violence, there is humiliation. David never speaks directly to her. Her only words in the passage are “I am pregnant.” One can imagine her fear and disgrace, even though she was powerless in the events. 

The moral corruption is obvious. But a close literary analysis shows different ways for us to think about corruptness. What are the spaces we occupy? Are they elevated and protected spaces like Jerusalem? Are they figurative palaces where we can summon others to our liking? Are they materially prosperous spaces that allow us a higher capacity for evil? Later passages suggest that David did not deliberate on evil. Rather, David’s privileged positions allowed him to conceal his evil even from his own consciousness. A reflective reading allows us to ask, “Do we inhabit or even long to inhabit these privileged spaces?”

What is the agency that we have? Do we have elevated authority? David’s authority is ascribed through his royal office, his physical strength, and his gender. Uriah also had agency, but he chose not to invoke it. Are there ways we can deny our own agency for spiritual reasons? Uriah did so, but it came at great cost.

It is easy to read this passage with judgment against David. This is not incorrect. But perhaps another reading alerts us to examine our own spaces and, thereby, the spaces of our own complicity in doing harm. The repercussions of unchecked power are enormous.

Psalm 145 is the last of a group of eight psalms at the end of Book Five of the Psalter that are ascribed, in their superscriptions, to David (Psalms 138-145).¹

It is an acrostic, in which in each verse of the psalm begins with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Acrostic poems were the works of highly skilled literary artists and functioned in ancient Israelite literature in a number of ways. Acrostics were most likely memory devices to aid in private and public—that is, individual and corporate—recitation. In addition, they literarily summarized all that could be said or needed to be said about a particular subject, summing it up from alif to tav, from A to Z.

Adele Berlin, in a festschrift for Samuel S. Iwry, comments on the structure of Psalm 145: “The poet praises God with everything from A to Z: his praise is all inclusive. More than that, the entire alphabet, the source of all words, is marshaled praise of God. One cannot actually use all of the words in a language, but by using the alphabet one uses all potential words.”²

The Babylonian Talmud tractate Berakot 4b states that Psalm 145, like the shema (Deuteronomy 6:4-5: “Hear, O Israel, the LORD is our God; the LORD alone. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.”), is to be recited three times a day and everyone who does so, “may be sure that he (or she) is a child of the world to come.”

Psalm 145 appears in the Jewish Prayer Book more than any other psalm in the Psalter. Also, the Dead Sea Psalm scroll 11QPs^a contains a version of Psalm 145 in which the refrain, “Blessed is the LORD and blessed is his name forever and ever,” is included after each verse, indicating some sort of liturgical use.

All indications are the words of this psalm were and are a vital part of the faith of the Jewish people.

Within the twenty-one-verses of Psalm 145, David, the great king of Israel, leads the Israelites and all of creation in words of praise and thanksgiving to God as king over all. The heart of the psalm is found in verses 10-18, verses that describe God’s sovereignty over creation and God’s care for that creation.

In verse 10, David states that all of God’s works (all that God has created) will give thanks and all of God’s faithful ones will bless God. The word “faithful ones” is hasidim, a word derived from the word hesed. Hesed, translated most often in the NRSV as “steadfast love,” has to do with the covenant relationship between God and God’s people (see Exodus 19:3b-6a). Thus a better translation for hesed might be “covenant love,” and a better translation for hasidim in verse 10 might be “covenant partners.”

Verses 11-13 of the acrostic psalm celebrate the sovereignty of God in a masterful way. The corresponding acrostic letters of these verses, inverted, spell out the Hebrew word for king, mlk. And within the verses, the word ‘kingdom’ appears four times, at the beginning, the middle, and the end. These appearances form a triangular structure, with its apex at the end of verse 12 and its base at the beginnings of verses 11 and 13.

• Verse 11: They shall speak of the glory of your kingdom, and tell of your power,
• Verse 12: to make known to all people your mighty deeds, and the glorious splendor of your kingdom.
• Verse 13: Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures throughout all generations.

Having firmly established the sovereignty of God in verses 11-13, the psalm singer continues in verses 14-18 by cataloguing the gracious acts of God on behalf of creation. Significantly, the catalogue consists of verbal actions on God’s part.

These verbal actions are conveyed linguistically with active participles, emphasizing the ongoing nature of the acts. Thus the verbs describing God’s actions may be translated better in verse 14 as “the LORD is upholding … and is raising up;” in verse 15 as “you are giving to them;” in verse 16 as “opening your hand … satisfying;” and in verse 18 as “the LORD is being near.”

Such ongoing care from God is extended to “all who are falling, who are bowed down” (verse 14); “all who look to God” (verse 15); “every living being” (verse 16); “all who call on God, who call on God in truth” (verse 18). God’s sovereignty brings peace, security, well-being, and abundance for all who embrace the kingdom of God.

The message for the church today is simple and yet complex. In the midst of turmoil and uncertainty in the world, praising God as sovereign is the solution.

But what does that mean? We can speak the words, but how do we put them into action? God is indeed sovereign but we must be the hands and feet of God in God’s world—what some scholars call “a communitization” of kingship.

In the ancient Near East, the role of the king was to provide a safe place of habitation for humanity. That safety included dwelling places, farm land, drinking water, abundant harvests, increase of animals, and fertility within the family (see Psalm 72).

In our twenty-first century world, many people do not have the basic elements of safe habitation—whether as a result of poverty, societal violence, disease, or outright neglect. We must, in God’s name and as the hands and feet and heart of God, support those who are falling. We must lift up those who are bent down, give food in its time, open our hands, and hear and respond to cries for help.

Notes

1. Commentary first published in 2009.
2. Adele Berlin, “The Rhetoric of Psalm 145” in Biblical and Related Studies Presented to Samuel S. Iwry, edited by Ann Kort and Scott Morschauser (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1985), 17-22.

Ephesians 3:14-21 is the conclusion of the first half of Ephesians.¹

Like Galatians and Romans, Ephesians consists of two fairly distinct halves, with the first half focusing on theological discussion and the second half on moral exhortation. This week’s passage thus wraps up the weighty theological section of Ephesians before the letter turns to more practical instruction. This wrap-up is in the form of a prayer, which concludes with a magnificent doxology. The prayer connects back with the opening section of the letter, the latter having been in the form of a blessing of God (Ephesians 1:3-14).

Like the letter’s opening blessing of Ephesians 1:3-14, 3:14-19 consists of a single sentence in Greek. Most modern English translations break the passage up into several sentences to make it easier to follow for modern readers. The New Revised Standard Version adds “I pray” at the beginning of the new sentences in verses 16 and 18 so that the sense of the continuing prayer is not lost on the reader. The closing doxology (verses 20-21) is also a single sentence.

In the opening of the prayer, Paul emphasizes the unity of humankind under God: “the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name” (verses 14-15). The Greek word for “family” here is patria, which can also have the sense of a clan, ethnic group, or even nation. That every patria receives its name from God simply means that God is the origin and head of every community in existence. This expression sums up what has been the chief argument of the first half of Ephesians, that in Christ Jews and Gentiles have been brought together to form one body, the church, which is the temple—the dwelling place—of God.

The language of bowing his knees before God in the opening expression of the passage underscores this unity—the only other two places in the Pauline corpus where knees bend is in reference to the acknowledgement of God by all people at the end times. The reference in Philippians 2:10 is perhaps better known: “…at the name of Jesus every knee should bend…”; the use in Romans 14:11 is similar. Paul’s bending of his own knee in the context of recognizing God as the universal Father thus looks forward to that end-times moment when God’s glory will be manifest in all and all things will be gathered to him (see Ephesians 1:10). This is the glory that is “forever and ever,” as the last line of the passage expresses it (Ephesians 3:21).

The body of the prayer centers on the Trinity-empowered character of believers. There is a distinctly inward focus to the description. The first petition is for the audience to be “strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit” (Ephesians 3:16), and the second is “that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith” (verse 17). The meanings of these two petitions are very similar, making the dual references to the Spirit and Christ striking in their Trinitarian implications. It is noteworthy here that, while today it is usually assumed that Christ lives in Christians’ hearts from the moment of conversion, Paul here makes it a matter of prayer that Christ should do so—we should earnestly desire it, but perhaps we should not assume it so easily!

The petitions of verses 18-19 continue this inward focus, but here the emphasis is on the mind. Verse 18 petitions for “the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth.” The breadth, length, height, and depth of what? Paul does not actually say, but since the verses before and after both speak of the love of Christ, love seems the best answer, unless what is meant is the even larger “fullness of God” (verse 19). “To know the love of Christ” is the petition of verse 19, which is wonderfully ironic since Christ’s love is described as a love “that surpasses knowledge.” Verse 17 describes Christians as “being rooted and grounded in love.”

While the petitions do have this inward focus, we should not think that they are thus divorced from action. Here we should remember that after this passage comes the second half of Ephesians, where the focus is entirely on how Christians are to treat one another in the community. Love, which has already been an important term earlier in the letter (see Ephesians 1:4, 15; 2:4), is one of the chief virtues of the church as described in Ephesians 4-6.

Christians are to be “bearing with one another in love” (Ephesians 4:2); we are to “live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us” (Ephesians 5:2). Altogether the word “love” (this is agape love) is used twenty times in Ephesians, ten times as a verb and ten times as a noun. For such a short letter it is an impressive frequency. Thus the focus on inward character in our passage should be seen as designed to produce concrete expressions of love in the lives of church members.

The closing deservedly famous doxology continues the focus on God’s work in us but also reminds us of the ultimate goal of such work: the glory of God. Just as Romans tells us that the Spirit prays for us when we do not know how to do so ourselves (Romans 8:26), here we are told that what God can accomplish in us is “abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20). To such wonderful news we can only reply, echoing the final verse, “To God be the glory!”

Notes

1. Commentary first published on this site in 2018.