Down from Heaven
John 6.35-51
Down is down and up is up and the world spins round and round.
Can there be anything new under the sun?
Those of you who listen to this broadcast regularly and have done so the last few weeks might be asking this very question. Noticing that the reading this morning is from John six again, from the sixth chapter of John once again this week, you might be wondering, Can’t there be anything new under summer’s sun?
The sixth chapter of John again and down is down. Up is up. And the world spins round and round.
Saturday spins around again. And again I sit down with a narrow-ruled tablet in front of me, my lucky Bible open before me, and my favorite mechanical pencil in my hand. It’s time to write another sermon.
And, once again, that question comes to haunt my mind, a question asked by countless people both inside and outside of churches: What does Christianity, what does the Bible, have to do with everyday life? Everyday life.
Some preachers tackle this problem by finding in the scriptures certain biblical principles or rules that can be applied to one’s life and its problems. Like doctors writing prescriptions are these preachers. Call them in the morning.
I’ve never been able to do that. Maybe I live under a curse, but neither the Bible nor people’s problems seem all that simple to me. And one size does not fit all.
Other preachers are able to tell stories, wonderful stories, drawn from everyday life that do more than simply illustrate, stories that make both the Bible and everyday life shine with luminous meaning.
My excuse used to be that I don’t know any stories. But this isn’t true; sit me down and get me going and I can tell you story after story after story. I just haven’t been able to figure how any of them figure into a sermon.
And Saturday spins around again. Narrow-ruled tablet, lucky Bible, mechanical pencil, and there is that question. What does any of this have to do with everyday life?
And I wonder. I wonder what the problem is. Just what is the problem with everyday life, anyway?
And maybe, I think maybe the problem might be this: What do people gain from all the toil at which they toil under the sun? A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains forever. The sun rises and the sun goes down, and hurries to the place where it rises. The wind blows to the south, and goes around to the north; round and round goes the wind, and on its circuits the wind returns. All streams run to the sea, but the sea is not full; to the place where the streams flow, there they continue to flow. All things are wearisome; more than one can express; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, or the ear filled with hearing. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.
That’s from the Bible, from Ecclesiastes. And maybe things aren’t that bad for you. But then they might feel worse, I don’t know. I can’t say.
But I wonder if this isn’t really the problem with everyday life. The problem with everyday life is that it’s just that; it’s just everyday life, everyday and common and ordinary, kind of trivial, even tedious at times.
And down is down and up is up and the world spins round and round. Round and round and it is Sunday morning once again.
It is Sunday morning once again. And again it is the sixth chapter of John, round and round.
And they complain among themselves about him. They say among themselves and to each other, Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, I have come down from heaven?
Down is down. They know his father and his mother. Is this not Jesus, the son of Joseph? And up is up. How can he say, I have come down from heaven?
Yes, my friends, up is up. Down is down. And bread is bread.
He said, I am the bread of life. He said to them, to these looking for some kind of sign they can see and believe. They said to him, Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, He gave them bread from heaven to eat.
He said to them, I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever, and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.
But bread is bread. And flesh is flesh. Never the twain shall meet.
I am afraid. I am afraid it is so. The world spins round and round. The more things change, the more they stay the same. And flesh, the way of all flesh, he goes the way of all flesh. All things are wearisome; more than one can express. There is nothing new under the sun.
He’s just one more and he will not be the last one. He’s one more for the Romans to crucify.
And up, up he is lifted. Lifted up is he. He ascends; nailed to his cross, he is lifted up and ascends.
And down, down is he sent. He descends. He is sent down, down to the depths. The way of all flesh, it is the way of all flesh, even the Word made flesh.
And it is wearisome to me. All things are wearisome; more than I can even say.
Vanity of vanities. The Ohio River rolls on endlessly and yet the Gulf of Mexico is never full. The eye is not satisfied with seeing. I wonder what’s on television? Or the ear filled with hearing. Maybe this new CD is good and will save my soul. What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done. There is nothing new under the sun.
What is up is up. What is down is down. The world spins round and round.
Saturday spins around again. There’s my tablet, Bible, and pencil. And what’s this got to do with anything, anyway?
They knew his mom and dad. And bread is bread. Flesh is flesh. And the way of all flesh, he goes the way of all flesh, just one among the tens of thousands the Romans crucified.
And it is wearisome to me. To me, all things are wearisome to me. More than I can say.
Thanks for listening. Again, I’m Neal Kentch… What? What is that you say? Are you wanting to tell me something?
Now, look here. Let’s get things straight. I’m the preacher. I’m the one who says what’s what.
You say, are you trying to tell me? Are you trying to tell me no? No? I’ve not got it right? Isn’t that how the story goes? What do you mean that that isn’t the end of the story? Don’t be ridiculous. Up is up and down is down. The world spins around and around. There is nothing new under the sun.
No? Are you sure about that? You feel that strongly about that, then, do you?
Is there something deep inside of you? Is there a voice of one crying out from even the depths of your own heart, telling you no? Is there some small voice telling you, whispering maybe, saying, It does matter? Is there a spark of hope burning within you? And you say you cannot give it up? You cannot give it up, this hope for yourself, for those you love, even for the world? It matters to you that one is weeping, another hungry, and another is poor? These things matter? Is this what you are saying? It matters that much to you?
Are these the kinds of things you are trying to tell me?
These are the kinds of things I try to tell you, Sunday after Sunday. Maybe it is true, then. Maybe that isn’t the end of the story. Maybe it is the voice of Jesus Christ we hear. Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, and whispering these things from within our own hearts.
Neal Kentch, Salem United Church of Christ and Corydon Christian, August 10, 2003