“Feed My People”
Sometimes the lessons for our Sunday readings lack the proper context to help us grasp what’s really going on. The gospel for today has Jesus suddenly disappear from the place of his teaching. Matthew tells us that he “withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.” That’s three expressions in one sentence that tell us the same thing: he needed time to be alone. Withdrawal... Privacy… Solitude... But why that sudden need to be alone? What was the rush? Just like in our own lives, it had something to do with disturbing news he had just received, news he couldn’t shake and needed time to process. It was John the Baptist’s beheading, which Matthew tells in the paragraph right before this passage, including some of the most visceral, disturbing details. There had been a party at the palace of the king and the daughter of the house, Salome, asked her step-father for a morbid birthday present: the head of John the Baptist, their famous and outspoken prisoner. He was executed as a birthday present. Who does something like that? The tyrants of this world sometimes do, simply because they can.
No wonder Jesus needs time for prayer and solitude! He knew John as a friend. He regarded him as an important teacher, the voice of moral conscience in the country, someone who named things nobody else dared to speak out loud. That voice was now silenced, and that does something to the psyche of country, a people. Fear seeps in and people think, “See what happens when you open your mouth. Keep your mouth shut!”
Or perhaps we underestimate the words of the brave. They aren’t in fact silenced. Often, as we know from contemporary examples, their words stay with a culture for a very long time; they get amplified post-mortem, after people fully realize whom they lost, a messenger of truth, justice, God, a higher moral law, our better nature. The names of martyrs become rallying cries. Martin Luther King Jr., Oscar Romero, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Indira Gandhi, Alexi Navalny… Their messages have become immortal, not despite but because of the violent nature of their death.
We don’t know exactly how Jesus received the news of John’s beheading, but it’s safe to say that he was disturbed and emotionally rattled by what he heard. Try to imagine the contrast between a birthday party and an execution; the seeming innocence of a teenage girl and her savage wish; the casual dancing scene and the deadly play with human life, the violence on public display. John, in his prologue, wrote that the light shines in the darkness but the darkness has not overcome it. Well, this was one of the moments when the darkness got to Jesus, when it became personal, real and emotional, when the rubber met the road, as we would say. Understandably, he needed solitude and peace from the crowds. And now, inevitably, in my brain Dr. Phil enters the scene, and asks, “How did that work for him?”
Not so great, it turns out. He wasn’t able to get away, the crowds relentlessly tracking the teacher’s movements across the lake. Soon they found him and showed up in numbers. Could they not leave him alone, respect his privacy? Pondering this passage, I surprised myself by feeling empathy for them in this situation. Because, they too had learned about the execution of John. They too were disturbed and had lost a person of moral stature, a leader, an important public figure. People of a certain generation in the US, including some of you, remember the day when JFK died, when MLK was assassinated. For many of you, it was a deeply unsettling time that made you question the country’s future.
So, I think what is happening in this story is not so much that people were ignorant of Jesus’ desire to be alone. It’s just that they needed him more than ever at this moment in time, and perhaps they also needed to be together, experience community, so much so that they forgot one important little detail: food. They forgot that they needed to eat. I know some people like that. Engrossed in their work, they forget to sustain their body. Grief can be like that.
Matthew writes, “When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.” Apparently, he did not talk about the raw subject of John’s passing. Matthew does not hint at a eulogy or consoling speech. Jesus offered physical and spiritual healing, offered himself and with that, hope. As we know, human presence is stronger than messages; actions speak louder than words. The carpenter’s son, taught with his hands.
The main story featured in this Sunday’s gospel then becomes almost an after-story, an addendum. I am sure for most people in attendance that day - what we are told were 5,000 men plus women and children, the most important part was not getting something to eat but being in the presence of a healer. And after being in the presence of a healer, it sounds like the miracle told in all four gospels came easy. “Bring me what you have and it will be more than enough!” “Five loaves and two fishes will do.” In the history of New Testament scholarship, people have tried to explain this in many ways: as a supernatural miracle enacted by the god-man Jesus; as a miracle of human sharing for the more rationally minded; as a symbol for Holy Communion for the mystics among us. In the end, to me it doesn’t matter how one interprets the mechanics of the feeding story, how it worked. What matters is this: when we are in the presence of a healer, the healer, people will get what they need. The healing energy brings forth the light that shines in the darkness, even in the darkness of our times. And we are empowered to feed all of God’s people: physically, spiritually and in every which way. And we are asked to share, whatever we have and can bring to the community. In the presence of the healer, it will do. Go and share what you have. It will be enough! Amen.
