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A Different Kind of King                        John 6: 1-21                   July 26, 2009

It's been fascinating, lately, to watch the events that have unfolded following the sad and unexpected death of Michael Jackson.

The 50-year old singer, songwriter, dancer and mega-star was often referred to as the "King of Pop." Now, the King is dead and, a month after his death, theories about what exactly caused his demise continue to swirl around the Internet.

Jackson's medical condition was surrounded by secrecy. Was he anorexic? Addicted to painkillers? We may never know for sure.

The conspiracy theories are the most interesting. Like most conspiracy theories, some are bazaar and some are pretty funny. My favorite is that Jackson faked his death and the CIA now has him in a secure location, working with Elvis and Jimmy Hoffa.

The televised memorial event, of course, attracted media attention from all over the world. And the tributes to Jackson from musicians and dancers and athletes and other media personalities - from Madonna to Shaquille O'Neal - are almost too numerous to count.

Whether you were a fan or not, there is no denying Michael Jackson's position as one of the great entertainers of all time. He had admirers literally all around the world. His signature white socks, his single beaded glove and his trademark "moon walk" dance routine will most likely be identified with him forever.

His record-breaking album, "Thriller" spent an unprecedented 37 weeks at No. 1 in 1982, sold 104 million copies worldwide, and sent seven of its nine songs into the Top 10. Given the way people now buy music on the Worldwide Web, it is probably safe to say that those numbers will never be exceeded.

It is arguable that Jackson actually changed the course of pop music. More importantly, many agree that he shattered the race barrier in popular culture, showing that an African-American performer could be the biggest star in the world.

It's hard not to feel sad when we think about the Michael Jackson story. When I see the pictures of the young artist with his family or the superstar at the peak of his career, and compare them to those of the plastic surgery-distorted, skeletally gaunt face of the man whose life came to a sudden end last month, I find that it's impossible not to be sorry - sorry for the mess that his life had become at the end, sorry for the ways he was exploited by handlers and others who did not have his best interests at heart and sorry, perhaps most of all, sorry for the sons and daughter whom he left behind.

It's also hard to avoid asking "why?" Why did this happen to such a gifted man?"

Actress Jamie Lee Curtis suggested an answer this past week, saying that she believes that it was fame that killed Michael Jackson. "The pain he suffered was from his birth," she wrote, "from his being and becoming the commodity that then made him the omnipotent King of the Pop-Goes-The-Weasel-Jacko-In-The-Neverland-Box that destroyed him."

Curtis may be onto something. Ted Koppel, the former star of ABC TV's Nightline and current news analyst at NPR, argues, "Fame, the real thing, is a curse, not a blessing. And the worst thing about it is that when you really want to, you can't get rid of it. And the world, meanwhile, imagines how wonderful it must be, and each onlooker is wishing that he or she could have their turn in the spotlight." i

"What I wanted more than anything was to be ordinary," Michael Jackson himself once wrote. "What I wanted more than anything was to be ordinary."

Who would have thought it? The "King of Pop," criticized by some for being self-absorbed, may never have wanted to be King after all.

Our Gospel lesson for this morning includes the familiar story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. It is also the story of a man who resisted when the crowds wanted him to be King.

This miracle of loaves and fishes is clearly one of the most well-loved and often-read lessons in Scripture, partly because it is repeated in all four of the Gospel accounts. In fact, the feeding of the five thousand is the only miracle of Jesus that is recounted by Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

John, however, gives the story a somewhat different spin. First, John repeats what is basically the same sequence of events as the other Gospel writers: Jesus tries to get away, he notices the large crowd that keeps following him, he refuses to send them away as his disciples suggest but instead feeds them with the loaves and fishes he has available, all are satisfied and twelve baskets of leftovers remain.

But then, after repeating the familiar story that all of his readers most likely have already heard, John adds his important twist.

"When the people saw the sign that he had done," John writes, "they began to say, 'This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world,' [and] when Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself."

Jesus, John tells us, wanted no part of the crowd's efforts to crown him king.

As one scholar puts it "Jesus wanted to slip into the world to save it uncharacteristically by way of a cross, so he had to keep his plan a secret. Had word got out that Jesus really was the celebrity savior everybody wanted, they would never have let him be the Suffering Savior they needed." ii

Why, we might reasonably ask, did Jesus refuse to act like a celebrity? Just what would have happened if Jesus had yielded to the pressure of the crowds and allowed them to make him King?

Jesus certainly could have used his celebrity status for good. He could have established an earthly Kingdom and possibly overthrown the Roman government. It must have been really tempting.

Fame, after all, is addictive. As much as any narcotic. Few humans can resist its lure. History is full of examples that underscore that truth. The sad story of Michael Jackson is only the latest one.

Yet, despite the fact that he was fully human, Jesus did resist the temptation to be famous. He resisted it and, instead of allowing the crowds to make him king, he willingly sacrificed his life. Something celebrities never do.

The sign that Jesus gave when he fed the five thousand - the sign that caused the crowd to recognize him as the Messiah - is one of the signature moments of Jesus' ministry.

Meals were always important events in the world in which Jesus lived. There were rules about what you could eat and rules about the people with whom you could share a meal. Meals were spiritual events. Holy events.

And the meal the crowd shared that day, sitting on the grass, was no exception. When he feeds the crowd, Jesus reveals himself as the one who satisfies hunger - the one who meets the most basic, fundamental need we humans have. And he demonstrates that his meal is not just for the few but for everyone.

The crowd saw Jesus as one who could lead them in an uprising that might defeat the oppressive Roman army. They saw him as one who could use his celebrity and power to help them accomplish their dreams.

Instead, Jesus offered them the bread of life. And left it at that.

We know, of course, that the bread of life was not enough for the crowd. We know that the same crowd who wanted to crown him king soon turned into an angry mob that cried "crucify him, crucify him."

The question, then, becomes, "is the bread of life enough for us?"

If Jesus were to return today as the rock-star celebrity the crowd wanted him to be and if he attracted a similar, present-day, adoring crowd that marched down Bridgeboro Street or Main Street or onto Capitol Hill in Washington, it would be easy for us to join in and cheer for his coronation.

The challenge, for us, is to find ways to follow Jesus, the giver of the bread of life, when we know, in our heart of hearts, that a rock-star celebrity scenario is not going to happen.

The most likely interpretation of what actually happened when Jesus took the five loaves and two fish and fed five thousand people with them gives us a clue about how to follow him:

What most likely happened that day is that Jesus took what he had, blessed it and passed it around, with confidence that it would be enough for everyone. And as the baskets of food passed through the crowd, each person, moved by Jesus' example, was inspired to share some of the lunch he or she had tucked away for the day's journey. You know they had something. In an inside pocket, perhaps. A piece of cheese, a hunk of bread, some dried fruit - something. Any of us would. Not enough to share, perhaps, but something.

But one by one, as the basket came around, instead of just taking, each person added their something as well and the meal grew and grew, so that when the disciples collected the broken pieces at the end there was more left over than they had when they had begun.

Not much of a miracle, you may be thinking. Just human beings being generous, sharing what they have, even when it's just a little in the first place.

Actually, it may be that this story represents the biggest miracle of all - not a miracle that somehow changed bread and fish but a miracle that changed people. A miracle that changed a group of people from a "this is mine, you worry about yours" mentality into a people who willingly shared without regard to what's in it for them.

The crowd, that day, never grasped the meaning of what happened. They had received the bread of life and yet they wanted more. They wanted a king. A rock star.

May God grant us the wisdom to know that the bread of life is all there is. And the wisdom to know that when we willingly share it the bread we have is enough - more than enough - to satisfy our needs.

                                                                             AMEN

i   From an interview recorded on NPR's "Talk of the Nation," June 11, 2009
ii  From "Reflections on the Lectionary" by Daniel Harrell. Christian Century, July 14,2009, P. 21

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