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Table of Plenty |
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3 August 2008 The way Matthew tells the story, Jesus has just heard of the death of his mentor, the guy who got him into the ministry of ushering in the realm of God, with his baptism in the Jordan River. John doesn’t die of old age; he doesn’t die of natural causes. He dies at the hands of the Jewish puppet-ruler Herod, who according to Matthew, makes a rash promise to his niece that she may have whatever her little heart desires. Apparently her heart is a vindictive one; she asks for—and receives—John’s head on a platter. Today’s reading begins as John’s disciples share the sad news with Jesus. So Jesus does the most natural thing in the world—he withdraws to an isolated place…only it’s not isolated enough. The crowds follow him; he has compassion on them and heals the sick. Then in this desolate place, evening falls. The disciples show at least practical concern: it’s late and they know people are hungry. Send them away so they can buy food. Because in this desolate place, there aren’t any 7-11’s or Mickey D’s, not even a Starbuck’s. Then Jesus says, “You feed them.” Do you hear it? Echoes of another feeding in the wilderness play like a riff around a theme: following the exodus from Egypt, God feeds the people Israel manna in the wilderness. Whatever the wilderness, wherever the place of desolation, Jesus commissions his followers to be compassionate, to bring the bread of life to those who are hungry. And if stories of Israel being fed in the wilderness form the riff, the theme is as recognizable as Jesus Loves Me, This I Know. Jesus takes the loaves and after giving thanks, breaks them, and gives them to his disciples. On the night he was betrayed, after giving thanks, Jesus takes the bread and breaks it and gives it to his disciples. Even when life is its most difficult, in the wilderness, even in places of desolation and grief and confusion and anger and pain, God is present to us and invites us to share that transforming presence with others. A couple of weeks ago one of the internet magazines I read told of the death of the writer’s colleague and friend, Anne Van Dusen. Claudia Greer writes that the best soup, hands down, she ever tasted was a container of homemade soup that Anne brought to work and shared. Claudia enthused over the gift, and asked for the recipe. ‘Anne smiled, waved her hand, and said, ‘Oh, that’s refrigerator soup; I made it from the leftovers in my refrigerator.’ ‘But this is fabulous! I want to duplicate this!’ ‘Well,’ Anne explained, ‘every container of refrigerator soup is unique. It’s never the same from one cook to the next, and it’s never even the same from one cooking to the next. That’s the mystery and challenge of this soup. You need to go with what’s in your refrigerator on any given day, to accept those ingredients and work with them, to take their particular combination and make something delicious. And once you do that, you need to share it; refrigerator soup is meant to be shared and savored with other people.’[1] Jesus takes five loaves and two fishes. He accepts the ingredients at hand. After giving thanks, he breaks them, and gives them to his disciples, to be shared and savored with other people. Or again: “during a famine in Lithuania, poor, hungry people left the cities and swarmed over the countryside, searching for food. Throngs of hungry people passed through the village where the rabbi’s parents lived. The rabbi’s mother Rachel ground grain with a hand mill, and every morning baked bread to give to the hungry. One day, more people came than usual, and there was not enough bread to go around. But the oven was still hot and the bowls were full of dough. Rachel quickly took some of the dough, kneaded it and formed loaves, slipping them into the oven. Of course, the hungry people had to wait. Some of them complained; a few of them even cursed her. That was when Rachel lost it and dissolved into tears. The rabbi did his best to comfort her. ‘Let them curse. Just do your work and fulfill the commandment of God. If they praised you and showered blessings on you, perhaps it would not be fulfilled so well.’[2] People hungry for justice, people hungry for healing, people hungry simply for bread to eat or a kind word on a miserable day—people pretty much like you and me; these are the people gathered along the shore in the desolate place with Jesus…and his disciples. Disciples who know enough to know they should pay attention to people who are hungry. But in spite of multiple shared meals with people from all walks of Palestinian peasant life, despite a day filled with healing, the disciples expect the crowds to fend for themselves. Ever the host, ever the teacher, Jesus instructs his followers. Take. Bless. Break. Give. Sometimes we will be called blessed and asked to share the recipe for refrigerator soup. Other times we may be cursed. But the instruction remains the same. Take. Bless. Break. Give. As we do so, we remember Jesus. *~*~* [1] Refrigerator Soup: A Tribute to Anne, Claudia Greer, Alban Institute, 7.14.2008. |