The Heavenly Picnic
The Heavenly Picnic
July 27, 2003
by Donald Hoffman

John 6:1-21

"Why is this night different from all other nights?"
"Avadim hayinu--we were slaves." Every Passover Seder, a child is coached to ask the famous four questions: Why is this night different from all other nights? Other nights we can eat any kind of bread, this night only flatbread. On other nights we can eat all kinds of greens, this night only bitter herbs. Other nights we don't dip our greens, on this night we dip twice. On other nights we sit any old way. This night we recline. Why is this night different from all other nights? The answers always begin, "Avadim hayinu--we were slaves." I'm most interested in the fourth question and answer.

Why on this night do we recline? "Avadim hayinu--we were slaves. We recline at ease to remind ourselves that like our ancestors we can overcome slavery and bondage, for each of us is self-enslaved, and each of us is free to become our own master."

The first Passover was eaten in a hurry, by slaves dressed to journey, with staffs in their hands and walking shoes on their feet. Fast food. But in Jesus's day the Passover Seder is eaten at leisure, by free people reclining, lying on pillows beside a low table. A banquet.

I'm here to tell you that John's Gospel is weird. There are four Gospels in our Bibles, and Matthew and Mark and Luke are very similar. John isn't. The first three Gospels tell lots of the same stories. John mostly ignores those stories. The first three Gospels are mostly about Jesus doing things. John is mostly about Jesus saying things.

And even the sayings are different in John's Gospel. Jesus doesn't tell lots of parables. Jesus doesn't do the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus doesn't teach the Lord's Prayer. Instead there are all these long conversations, actually arguments, with Jesus doing snappy come-backs, and using ambiguous words that sometimes mean one thing and sometimes something else. John's Gospel is very different, and it pictures a Jesus who is different from the other Gospels.

I suspect that John's Gospel is the jazz version of a Christian worship service. In jazz you take a piece of music that everybody is supposed to know, and you ... don't play it. You play all around it. You play your own stuff that hints at the original melody. "They said they were going to play 'Stormy Weather,' and I know that song, and this wasn't hardly like it at all!" And of course, if you have a room full of jazz fans, and you do play something recognizable, your audience will get offended and leave.

I believe that John's Gospel is the jazz version of a Christian worship service. He hardly mentions baptism, but he talks about being born again of water, and having a spring of living water inside us. He never mentions communion, he is the only Gospel writer who doesn't quote Jesus saying the words of institution and passing bread and wine around at the last supper, and yet wine and vines and bread come up over and over. John's Gospel is a jazz worship service. The same themes are there, and Jesus improvises around them.

In John you have to look below the surface for communion and baptism themes. He's not interested in saying what the other Gospel writers say. And John even gives us a warning: this isn't what you think it is; look under the surface:

To begin with, the first hint, John tells us this event is taking place just before Passover, at a time when Passover would be on everybody's mind. John is giving you a hint: when you read this story, think Passover.

Then, after Jesus has fed the crowd they go bonkers! This is the greatest PR stunt in history. Other politicians promise; this fellow delivers. Our leaders told us a hundred years ago that if we'd let the Romans take over we'd have a chicken in every pot, and it never happened. This candidate doesn't talk empty words, he gives a fish sandwich in every pocket. Let's throw out the Romans and elect him. Let's make him king!

So how does the new candidate respond? Does he organize a new political party? Does he get everybody to sign a petition? Does he begin planning a military campaign to throw the rascals out? No, he leaves. He sneaks away.

John is telling us here that this isn't your ordinary miracle. Look below the surface, John is saying. In this Gospel, Jesus intends to make a point, and it's not really political, it's not really about meeting people's wants and needs, it's not really about taking our physical hunger away. This ... is a story about communion. And--remember that earlier hint about Passover?--this is a story about the Last Supper.

The first Passover was eaten in a hurry, by slaves dressed to journey, with staffs in their hands and walking shoes on their feet. But in Jesus's day the Passover Seder is eaten at leisure, by free people reclining, lying down. So what does Jesus do, have everybody sit up straight while he hands out the fast food? No, he tells them to lie down, recline on the grass: this is going to be a feast. Don't eat quick and go home; this is a banquet, and this grassy hillside becomes the dining hall of God, this fast-food fish sandwich becomes the Passover Seder.

(I'll admit you can't see this in the English translation. Greek has a bunch of words that all get brought over into English as "sit," but several of those words actually mean "recline." The problem is cultural: almost nobody lies down to eat any more. We don't even think of that as comfortable. They did. It was a sign that you were a free person, not a slave. It was a sign that you had leisure, and didn't have to hurry through the meal. Avadim hayinu--we used to be slaves, and we had to eat in a hurry, we had to eat sitting up or standing; but now we are free, now we are cultured, now we are elegant, and we can recline in luxury at the table and take our time.)

So Jesus has the crowd lie down, recline, as if they are getting ready for a banquet. I can tell you, these folks aren't used to that. This isn't King Herod and his crowd, having a banquet every night, reclining at every meal, surrounded by scurrying slaves to answer their every wish. No, these are day laborers who can't find a job. Why else would they have the time to follow Jesus around? They can't find work; they're poverty stricken; they almost never get enough to eat; the single moment in the whole year when they do recline, at the Passover in their own homes, their feast is a miserable excuse for luxury.

These are the Bob Cratchetts of Palestine. Remember the story in Charles Dickens's Christmas Carol? The family sits around a scrawny turkey, divides a Christmas pudding that is almost big enough to give everybody a bite, with Tiny Tim slowly withering away, and they talk about how God has blessed them. Well, Bob Cratchett and his family are far better off than your average day laborer of 2000 years ago.

And now Jesus treats these people like royalty. They recline on the luxurious grass. They get enough to eat, more than enough, probably for the first time in weeks. Sure, you and I would think of this food as barely edible. But for these folks it's a banquet.

This is a communion story. For this Gospel's earliest readers, it reminds them of the very first Passover, and all the Passovers since. It reminds them of God feeding their ancestors with manna in the desert. It reminds them of the loaves of bread set out every day in the ancient tabernacle. It may even remind them of a strange story of the prophet Elisha multiplying barley loaves to feed a hundred men, with scraps left over.

It will also remind them of the Last Supper Jesus has with the disciples, breaking bread, sharing wine, reclining together. It will remind them of the heavenly banquet waiting for us some day in the future.

You could say that this is a miracle, showing that God always meets our needs. But this is more. You could say that we should get out there and feed the hungry. But this is more. This is about Passover. This is about communion. This is about the great banquet waiting for us in heaven.

Have I mentioned to you that John's Gospel is the jazz version, taking the themes of worship from the other Gospel writers and improvising beautiful music around them? Well, there's even more jazz going on:

John never mentions a temptation in the wilderness. Mark passes it off in a sentence. Matthew and Luke develop it into a large story: Jesus is tempted to make bread; Jesus is tempted to work a show off miracle in Jerusalem; Jesus is tempted to become king. John doesn't have that story, and yet: here is a story where Jesus makes bread. Immediately afterward is a story where Jesus seems to show off, walking on water, but only to a few men in a boat. And here we have a story of people trying to make Jesus king; but he refuses, and instead treats them all like royalty.

In other words Jesus has rejected all the temptations told in Matthew and Luke. Jesus will make bread, but only when he has a greater goal in mind. Jesus will demonstrate his glory, but only to a select few who already believe. Jesus refuses to become king, because he intends to make us all into kings.

It's too bad we have to take our communion sitting up. It would be better to recline. It's too bad we eat it as fast food. It would be better to take an hour. It's too bad we this tiny bite of bread, this tiny sip of wine. It would be better to have a church picnic like we did last week. Maybe all those would be better, but it is still communion, and we are still kings and queens, princes and princesses reclining in the banquet hall of God.

It really doesn't matter if you are sitting up on a hard McDonald's bench eating French fries. It really doesn't matter if you are driving with one hand, and reaching for a sandwich with the other. It doesn't matter if you are in your back yard with a grilled hot dog and a pile of potato salad, or eating cake and ice cream at a toddler's birthday party. Every bite you ever eat, every sip you ever drink, should remind you of the Lamb's great feast of bliss and love.

Why is this meal different from all other meals? Avadim hayinu--we used to be slaves, but now we are royalty! Jesus honors us with a banquet.

(Comments to Don at crestnch@televar.com.)

Creston Christian Church, Creston, Washington, USA