Feeding the 5000, bread, fish and compassion ......
So far 2020 has been unreliable in a number of ways.
The obvious sign of unreliability is the manner in which the wearing of masks has become enforceable by law.
There have been masks worn, especially in urban areas as a protection against poor air quality, as a child growing up in Manchester in the days the City was engulfed by a dark and dirty smog, I would be cautioned by my Mother to wear, if not a mask, then certainly 'wrap a scarf around your face'.
Certainly Masks and Japanese tourists have been a combination in many European resorts for some years. But now they are compulsory here in the UK when shopping or generally outside.
The common sense is clear, it is completely logical to protect both yourself and those around you, both what you exhale and what you breathe in.
But the unreliability has extended to the weather.
There have been days when it has been impossible to plan. I have counted four seasons in a day. Low temperatures and rain in the morning, high winds in the afternoon, dark clouds giving way to sunshine in the evening when supper became a picnic on the lawn.
The story we read this weekend in Matthew's Gospel is a familiar story.
At he heart of the story is miracle, mystery, the reliability and the generosity of God.
The story starts with a mystery:
Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself.
What did he hear?
He heard that John Baptist had been beheaded. His cousin. His Baptiser. His friend. I guess that's what you do when you hear news of that kind. You withdraw, you find a deserted place, you remember, you recall and you wonder and you pray.
But there was no peace for Jesus to mourn.
The crowd followed him so he responded in the only way he knew, the way of compassion, and he:
'cured their sick'
Jesus exercised the compassion he felt for the crowds that followed Him, they gave Him no peace, they were enthralled by His teaching and so, even as he was grieving for the one who foretold of His coming as Messiah Jesus response was compassion. So he healed their sick. The blind received sight. The dumb spoke. The lame walked. His compassion extended beyond and into the evening. This caused the disciples some anxiety:
"This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves."
So now we move into the familiar story of the miracle, told in each gospel with some minor editing, but always with the same remarkable effect.
The feeding of the 5000. Five loaves, two fishes, blessed and broken feeding 5000, if you only count the men, as Matthew does, simply adding that there were women and children as well, 'besides' as the text has it.
I did on one occasion preach a demythologised reading of the story. Unfortunately a member of the congregation took issue with my view that maybe, just maybe, some of the Crowd had brought their packed lunches but didn't wish to share them until Jesus' actions encouraged them, maybe I suggested the true miracle was that human selfishness was overcome by Jesus' example of generosity in practice.
But then the story is told by each Gospel writer. I personally like St Mark's version where he notes that: 'the grass was green' Mark's Gospel was written after Mark had visited Peter in prison and you can almost hear the memory shining through, 'it was that time of year and the grass was green' says Peter to the young scribe remembering the strange time and the events themselves.
We move from grief, through compassion, to healing as Jesus responds to the crowds that follow him.
The disciples were concerned also. Concerned to protect Jesus. Concerned to ensure that the Crowds were fed, either as here, being encouraged to go and buy food or, the disciples, in St Like's telling 'we can go and buy 200 denarius of bread'?
As we reflect on and seek to understand this miracle two major strands of thought emerge. The theological strand seeks to emphasise the way in which the story becomes a Eucharistic parable, Bread is taken, blessed and broken and all are fed.
Just as the bread of the Eucharist is taken, blessed and broken.
There is here, in this unpredictable year, a reminder that, so many of us, for a whole variety of good reasons, are keeping a Eucharistic fast. Bread is not broken, Wine is not spilt. The phrase we use is 'spiritual communion' and we hope and pray for that day when we can receive the Eucharist once more.
The social reading of this miracle, is that Jesus compassion is calling us to feed the hungry.
During this Covid emergency, food banks have struggled to feed the hungry and because of the fears of transmission food parcels have to be prepared in advance.
There is still a need to feed the hungry in our world today. According to the World Food Programme 800 million people do not have enough food to lead a healthy active life. That is about 1 in 9 people on earth.
So clearly the question posed by this story is;
What are we Christians doing to feed the hungry today, during this pandemic and into the future?
The obvious sign of unreliability is the manner in which the wearing of masks has become enforceable by law.
There have been masks worn, especially in urban areas as a protection against poor air quality, as a child growing up in Manchester in the days the City was engulfed by a dark and dirty smog, I would be cautioned by my Mother to wear, if not a mask, then certainly 'wrap a scarf around your face'.
Certainly Masks and Japanese tourists have been a combination in many European resorts for some years. But now they are compulsory here in the UK when shopping or generally outside.
The common sense is clear, it is completely logical to protect both yourself and those around you, both what you exhale and what you breathe in.
But the unreliability has extended to the weather.
There have been days when it has been impossible to plan. I have counted four seasons in a day. Low temperatures and rain in the morning, high winds in the afternoon, dark clouds giving way to sunshine in the evening when supper became a picnic on the lawn.
The story we read this weekend in Matthew's Gospel is a familiar story.
At he heart of the story is miracle, mystery, the reliability and the generosity of God.
The story starts with a mystery:
Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself.
What did he hear?
He heard that John Baptist had been beheaded. His cousin. His Baptiser. His friend. I guess that's what you do when you hear news of that kind. You withdraw, you find a deserted place, you remember, you recall and you wonder and you pray.
But there was no peace for Jesus to mourn.
The crowd followed him so he responded in the only way he knew, the way of compassion, and he:
'cured their sick'
Jesus exercised the compassion he felt for the crowds that followed Him, they gave Him no peace, they were enthralled by His teaching and so, even as he was grieving for the one who foretold of His coming as Messiah Jesus response was compassion. So he healed their sick. The blind received sight. The dumb spoke. The lame walked. His compassion extended beyond and into the evening. This caused the disciples some anxiety:
"This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves."
So now we move into the familiar story of the miracle, told in each gospel with some minor editing, but always with the same remarkable effect.
The feeding of the 5000. Five loaves, two fishes, blessed and broken feeding 5000, if you only count the men, as Matthew does, simply adding that there were women and children as well, 'besides' as the text has it.
I did on one occasion preach a demythologised reading of the story. Unfortunately a member of the congregation took issue with my view that maybe, just maybe, some of the Crowd had brought their packed lunches but didn't wish to share them until Jesus' actions encouraged them, maybe I suggested the true miracle was that human selfishness was overcome by Jesus' example of generosity in practice.
But then the story is told by each Gospel writer. I personally like St Mark's version where he notes that: 'the grass was green' Mark's Gospel was written after Mark had visited Peter in prison and you can almost hear the memory shining through, 'it was that time of year and the grass was green' says Peter to the young scribe remembering the strange time and the events themselves.
We move from grief, through compassion, to healing as Jesus responds to the crowds that follow him.
The disciples were concerned also. Concerned to protect Jesus. Concerned to ensure that the Crowds were fed, either as here, being encouraged to go and buy food or, the disciples, in St Like's telling 'we can go and buy 200 denarius of bread'?
As we reflect on and seek to understand this miracle two major strands of thought emerge. The theological strand seeks to emphasise the way in which the story becomes a Eucharistic parable, Bread is taken, blessed and broken and all are fed.
Just as the bread of the Eucharist is taken, blessed and broken.
There is here, in this unpredictable year, a reminder that, so many of us, for a whole variety of good reasons, are keeping a Eucharistic fast. Bread is not broken, Wine is not spilt. The phrase we use is 'spiritual communion' and we hope and pray for that day when we can receive the Eucharist once more.
The social reading of this miracle, is that Jesus compassion is calling us to feed the hungry.
During this Covid emergency, food banks have struggled to feed the hungry and because of the fears of transmission food parcels have to be prepared in advance.
There is still a need to feed the hungry in our world today. According to the World Food Programme 800 million people do not have enough food to lead a healthy active life. That is about 1 in 9 people on earth.
So clearly the question posed by this story is;
What are we Christians doing to feed the hungry today, during this pandemic and into the future?
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