Matthew 14:13-21
Have
you ever heard the joke about the person who gains weight so easily that all
she has to do is look at a picture of something fattening and she’ll gain five
pounds? I used to tell that joke all the time. As a person who has always been
“weight conscious,” that joke rings true. I gain weight quickly and with very
little effort. Then I read an article in some magazine that said there was some
truth behind that joke. It had something to do with hormone production and
subliminal thoughts and overeating; I don’t really remember the supposed
science behind it. I just know that once I read that article, I stopped making
that joke. Why tempt fate?
But
I am ever more conscious that my weight consciousness is a first world problem.
While I can become obsessive about having too much food at my disposal, the
latest statistics state that right now six million people are at risk of
starvation in Somalia .
Another 14 million are at risk of starvation in Yemen ,
Nigeria and South
Sudan .[1] “It is the gravest
emergency since the Second World War, according to the United Nations.”[2]
While
I fight against the temptation of overeating, there are, literally, millions
upon millions of people – men, women and children – starving to death.
The
scene that we turn to in our passage from the gospel this morning is not one of
famine, although as we know from the Old Testament, the Near East
was no stranger to its devastating effects. But though the people of Israel
were not suffering starvation on the scale of what is happening in the Horn of
Africa, it is highly likely that food insecurity was a daily reality. Jesus and
the disciples were faced with a large crowd of hungry people.
This story is
commonly known as the feeding of the 5,000. Although at the end of the story,
we hear that number only includes the men present. Besides the men there were
also women and children whose numbers we don’t know. So maybe we should know
this story as Jesus Feeding the 5,000 Plus or Jesus Feeding the 5,000 and More.
This
is the only miracle story that is recorded in all four gospels; and Matthew
includes another feeding story in the next chapter where 4,000 are fed. The
fact that all four gospel writers chose to include this event, even though each
telling is slightly different, indicates that this meal is essential in their
understanding of Jesus: of what he did and who he was.
The
temptation with a story such as this one is to try and explain the miracle that
happened. How did Jesus multiply those five loaves and two fish so that all
those thousands of people would have enough? But is following that line of
thinking just going down a rabbit hole, a distraction? Is the multiplication
the real miracle of the story? Or is there something else at work in this story
that is far more miraculous?
The
first sentence of the passage suggests that we are in the middle of something
much larger.
“Now when Jesus
heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself.”
“Now
when Jesus heard this.” What did he hear? He heard about John the Baptist’s
death by beheading. The irony of that is the decision to behead John was made
at a banquet given to celebrate the ruler Herod’s birthday. It was a very
different feast from the one that would soon be celebrated by Jesus, the
disciples and the crowds of people. John was in the habit of speaking the truth
to Herod about his relationship with Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife. While
Herod didn’t like hearing that truth, he was fascinated by John, and he was
scared to put John to death because he feared the crowds who saw John as a
prophet. Yet at this banquet, which I imagine to have been both a sumptuous
feast and a decadent bacchanal, Herodias’ daughter danced for Herod. Her
dancing pleased him so much he swore to her that he would give her whatever she
asked for. Well she asked for John’s head on a platter. And that’s what she
got.
This
is the news that Jesus was given. That is what he heard. Because of that he
withdrew. He took a boat and went alone to a deserted place. When Jesus withdrew
in that way, he usually did so to pray, to be with God in quiet and peace. I
think he wanted to grieve.
But
his alone time was not to be, because the crowds followed him wherever he went.
Jesus took a boat, and the crowds followed him on foot. When Jesus went ashore, he saw the great
crowd of people waiting for him, and whatever his own needs were, he had
compassion for them. He healed their sick. He cured them of their illnesses. He
had compassion for them.
When
evening fell, the crowds did not leave. The disciples saw that it was late, and
they knew the people were hungry. They urged Jesus to send the folks away. I’m
guessing that they knew the crowds would listen to Jesus’ instructions to do so
without complaint.
“Look Jesus, it’s
late. The people must be famished. This place is deserted. There’s nowhere to
get food around here. Why don’t you send them off to the villages to find some
food before it gets much later?”
However, Jesus
didn’t bite on their suggestion – pun intended.
“They need not go
away; you give them something to eat.”
Yet what can the
disciples give them? They only have five puny loaves of bread and two measly
fish. It’s meager fare for even just two people, much less thousands.
But
the disciples gave Jesus what they had. And in an action that foreshadowed the
Eucharist, Jesus took the bread and the fish, he raised his eyes up to heaven,
he blessed and broke the loaves, gave the food to the disciples, who then
distributed it to the waiting crowds. It was enough. All were fed. The
leftovers of the broken bread numbered twelve baskets. Perhaps it was not a
rich banquet such as the one Herod celebrated, but all were fed.
This
was miraculous, but it was not magic. Jesus did not lift up his eyes and hold
up the food to the heavens, and in an act of prestidigitation make more food
appear. He thanked God, he pronounced a
blessing, and gave the disciples what they’ve given to him. And all are fed.
Perhaps
another change of title is due: The Disciples Feed 5,000 Plus! Jesus told them
to do it. Jesus encouraged them, and showed them that they had the resources at
their disposal. Jesus blessed the food, but it was the disciples who
distributed the food. It was the disciples who did the feeding. Jesus took what
the disciples thought was a meager offering of food on their part and turned it
into a feast of plenty. What they saw as scarcity, Jesus saw as abundance.
We’ve
spent the last weeks reading about parables that compare the kingdom of heaven
as something small that not only grows but is pervasive; that seems unlikely
and meager, but in fact is abundant. Why would it surprise us or anyone that
out of this small portion of food Jesus could feed thousands? As I said
earlier, I’m not convinced that this is the true miracle of the story. What is
most miraculous to me is not that Jesus made a feast out of nothing, but that
Jesus made a feast. Who would have blamed him had he sent the people into
villages to find food for themselves? In clergy circles, it would have been
called setting boundaries. But it seems to me that what this story is about is
not the miracle but what it reveals about God through Jesus. What we really
know about God, we know through Jesus. Jesus, God’s incarnation, revealed the
character and nature of God. Although Jesus went to find a quiet alone place,
when he saw the crowds he had compassion for them. He healed them. He made sure
that they were fed. In the face of overwhelming need, he empowered the
disciples to take what they had and care for the people. The miracle is that
instead of seeing scarcity – which is where I lead from most of the time –
Jesus saw abundance.
How
different would my life be, how different would our ministry be, if we looked
at our resources, at our abilities, at our time and talents and saw abundance
instead of scarcity? How many miracles would happen? How many lives would be
changed? How many hungry people could be fed? How many people would eat and
have their fill?
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia!” Amen.
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