After this
Jesus went to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, also called the Sea of Tiberias .
A large crowd kept following him, because they saw the signs that he was doing
for the sick. Jesus went up the mountain and sat down there with his disciples.
Now the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near. When he looked up and saw
a large crowd coming toward him, Jesus said to Philip, “Where are we to buy
bread for these people to eat?” He said this to test him, for he himself knew
what he was going to do. Philip answered him, “Six months’ wages would not buy
enough bread for each of them to get a little. One of his disciples, Andrew,
Simon Peter’s brother, said to him, “There is a boy here who has five barley
loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” Jesus said, “Make
the people sit down.” Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they
sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he
had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the
fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, “Gather
up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them
up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had
eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had
done, they began to say, “This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the
world.” 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.
John 6:1-15
“We Are Fed”
My mom and I had lunch together at a wonderful bakery this
week after the funeral of a family friend. As we were waiting for our food to
arrive, I began to realize that we had both spent the time waiting for our food
staring at the multiple bakery cases; sadly, I have to admit I think we may
have been drooling while staring. There were so many desserts—strawberry and
caramel cakes, cinnamon and chocolate rugelah, breads braided and buttered and
twisted into pretty shapes, sugar cookies decorated with minions, petit fours
and cupcakes decorated for baby and wedding showers. Yes, I know we were
drooling. There is something about bakeries and the smells coming out of them
that makes me drool every time. I love to bake, so much so that when my parents
asked me what I wanted for my 40th birthday, I asked for a kitchen
aid stand mixer. I love to mix cinnamon and sugar, love whipping a little cream
up, love melting butter and making frosting. Although I have to admit that my
love of baking shows on my body and prompted my gym membership, I really love
to bake because I love to share it with others. I love food and everything that
comes along with it—the recipes, the sharing, the eating together around
tables, the smiles that sharing food brings to friend’s faces during times of
celebration and times of confusion, in times of lostness and times of grief.
I love to think about meals I’ve shared with others—family
night suppers and covered dish dinners, pizza nights with our students, about
how my family always gathered together in the kitchen where the food was made,
in the smallest room of our house growing up, instead of in the bigger rooms.
There is something about being together with loved ones, even being with
strangers, and sharing the experience of a meal together. One of the meals I
will always remember is a meal I had in Paris —I
was with two of my dearest friends in one of the most wonderful cities of the
world. As we walked by beautiful chapel of Saint Chappelle, we came across an
outdoor café. We sat for several hours, simply sharing cheese and crackers and
delicious soup as we sipped wine and laughed and observed the scenery
surrounding us. I remember that meal for so many reasons—for its simplicity and
beauty, for its easiness that led to relaxation, for the beautiful people with
whom I shared it, for the background music and noises that surrounded us, and
certainly for the gelato we shared on the way home. And, yes, I’m sorry if I’ve
made your stomachs growl a little earlier than usual today!
My hunch is that we can all think of times like this when we
savored every bite and every moment of a meal. We can all remember times when
food has been ample and delicious, when it has brought family and friends and
strangers together in fellowship around a blanket or a table. That is one of
the many reasons I love our story from John’s gospel today—because of the
simplicity of the meal in the way it is shared, because of the fellowship it
brings to its guests, because of the story it tells about our Christ.
Food, and most importantly, the way meals are shared with
us, is a common thread woven throughout our Biblical story, from the first food
eaten in the garden to the manna given to the Israelites in the wilderness;
from the lavish feasts thrown for the kings in our story to the ones who are
lost looking for food; from the first miracle at the wedding feast in Cana to
the party thrown for a prodigal son returned home, from the feast made out of
five loaves of bread and two fish to the final meal offered by Christ to his
disciples; from the breakfast shared after his resurrection to the fact that
Christ’s body is broken and his blood is shed in communion for us all.
Yes, the stories of food and the meals we share are woven
throughout our Biblical witness—and this particular story of the feeding of the
5,000, is a wonderful part of our story together, a crucial part of it. It is
the only miracle story shared with us in all 4 Gospels, which should tell us
something about its importance. On the surface, many of the details of this
narrative are simple. The neat number of 5,000, the little boy who has the
barley loaves and the fish, that the numbers of them both add up to the number
of creation days, the pastoral, green setting of the mountainside.
But there is something extraordinary in the simplicity,
something extraordinary in this miracle. Our text tells us that 5,000 are fed,
but that normally only includes the men gathered—that number is probably three
times more when women and children are included. 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish
for countless numbers of people. A little boy has gathered the food, a little
boy who has been seen as less than human, only valuable for what he can gather,
as children are seen in Biblical times. A little boy brings all of that food,
and Christ calls him out, acknowledging him for the miracle he has helped to
begin. What is gathered is shared, shared so much that the text tells us they
all had all they wanted, shared so much that those gathered are full, full
enough to even have fragments and leftovers to share.
There are so many things to love about this text, but I
think I love this little, crucial, necessary one the most: Jesus says to the
disciples, “Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.”
Jesus knows that there are even more folks with whom to share, and 12 baskets
full of fragments are gathered to share with those who are in need. On this
miraculous day, Jesus has fed all of those gathered, foreshadowing his death
and resurrection, foreshadowing the promised banquet we will all share with him
in heaven. But he doesn’t just stop with the feeding—he orders the disciples to
gather what is left, reminding them that there is always enough to be gathered
and shared, telling them that there will always be enough for everyone in need,
calling them to share. And he is telling us the same thing. No matter how many
are gathered, there will always be enough to share—and it is up to us to gather
it and share it.
I shared the story of that lovely meal in Paris with all of you because it has always
been one of my favorite times, a lovely experience. But there have been other
meals that were more than that—meals that transformed and changed me. When our
students and I spent a week in Haiti, I tried to be constantly aware of the
food around us and the way it was shared—the snacks we took with us on the
plane to share with those around us, the meals cooked for us as we sat around
tables, the rice and beans we fed to children who were mentally and physically
disabled, the day we were each given a kid for whom to buy pizza and burgers
and hot dogs and fries. We take these foods for granted every day, but I will
never forget the look in their eyes as they ate these things that were special
delicacies for them. All of these times were transformational, but what I
keenly recognized was that there was nothing leftover. Uneaten rice and beans
were scooped off of plates and saved for another meal on another day. We were
always asked to take only what we needed, not just what we thought we wanted.
Even the wrappers from cookies and chips, something we Americans always throw
away, were saved to be recycled into jewelry to be sold so the profits could be
given to those in need. Simply put, trash cans were small (partly because of
the poor sanitation system in the country, party because not much is thrown
away). There was no room for much to be thrown away—leading the way for more to
be given to those in need. Even in the poorest country in the Western
hemisphere, more were fed than we ever could have dreamed of, more than enough
to go around.
“Gather up the fragments left over,” Jesus says, “so that
nothing may be lost.” Christ gave this miracle to those countless numbers of
folks gathered on the hillside that day. And he shares it with us. It is up to
the disciples and us who call ourselves followers to lose nothing, to make sure
we are all fed. My favorite writer, Barbara Brown Taylor, puts it this way:
Go look at your loaves. How many
do you have? Any answer will do. Now follow the leader. Take what you
have—whatever you have—take it into your hands and hold it lightly, very
lightly. Then bless it—thank God for what you have and make it holy by giving
it away for love. Then break it—sorry, but you have to tear it up to share it,
there is no way to keep it all in one nice piece. And finally, give it—to
whoever is standing in front of you, beside you—spread it around, and never
mind that there does not seem to be enough for everyone. It is not up to you to
feed the whole crowd, to solve the whole problem, or to fix the whole world. It
is up to you just to share what you have got, to feed whatever big or little
hunger that happens to be standing right in front of you. The rest will come.
Because God is God, the rest will come. For now, for your part, how many loaves
have you?
How many loaves have you? How many fragments have we? What
do we have to give, since we have been given so much, since we have been fed
our daily bread? Thanks to be God.
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