The First United Methodist Church of Napa, CA
August 3, 2008
A Sunday of Holy Communion
Scripture Readings:

Hebrew Scriptures – Genesis 32: 22-31¹

²²The same night [Jacob] got up and took his two wives, his two maids, and his eleven children, and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. ²³He took them and sent them across the stream, and likewise everything that he had. ²⁴Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. ²⁵When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. ²⁶Then he said, “Let me go, for the day is breaking.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go, unless you bless me.” ²⁷So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” ²⁸Then the man said, “You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” ²⁹Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. ³⁰So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved.” ³¹The sun rose upon him as he passed Penuel, limping because of his hip.

Gospel Lesson – Matthew 14: 13-21²

¹³Now when Jesus heard [that John the Baptist had been beheaded], he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. ¹⁴When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. ¹⁵When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “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.” ¹⁶Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” ¹⁷They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” ¹⁸And he said, “Bring them here to me.” ¹⁹Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. ²⁰And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. ²¹And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

“You Give Them Something to Eat!”

She sits in the park. Her clothes are out of date.

Two children whine and bicker, tug her skirt.

A third draws aimless patterns in the dirt.

Someone she loved once passed by – too late

to feign indifference to that casual nod.

“How nice” et cetera. “Time holds great surprises.”

From his neat head unquestionably rises

a small balloon… “but for the grace of God…”

They stand a while in flickering light, rehearsing

the children’s names and birthdays. “It’s so sweet

to hear their chatter, watch them grow and thrive,”

she says to his departing smile. Then, nursing

the youngest child, sits staring at her feet.

To the wind she says, “They have eaten me alive.”³

This striking poem of a mother’s reality written by Australian Gwen Harwood could’ve been words spoken by Jesus, don’t you think? “They have eaten me alive” would’ve been an understandable response to the demands of the crowds who followed after and surrounded him – even when he was trying to get away to try and find some Sabbath time, to spend some time alone. Harwood’s young mother is also a sometime echo of every parent, every care giver, and every person with a compassionate heart. Her words find resonance wherever people are pushed to the limit of self-giving and sacrificial love – the times when it seems there’s little, if anything, left over.

We would not blame Jesus if these had been his words that day when news of his dear friend, John’s, murder reached him and he stumbled away to be alone in his grief. But never being those to miss an opportunity, the people chased after him – a little bit like the telemarketers who will phone between 6:00 and 7:00 P.M. “because we know it’s dinnertime and you’ll be in now.” Running close to empty Jesus is still filled with empathy in the face of such a needy crowd, so he reaches out to them with compassion and with a touch of healing.

But did you notice what his first response is to his disciples who want to send them all away? He says, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.”⁴ Just as his disciples begin to complain and get nervous because they have no idea how to feed such a crowd, Jesus tells them that it’s their responsibility.

There’s no doubt that we all hunger and thirst for many things throughout our lives. We not only hunger daily for physical nourishment, but we hunger for healing of our many kinds of wounds, and we crave authentic human connections that will bring comfort to our sense of loss and loneliness. So what is the greatest miracle here? Is it that this remarkable rabbi from Nazareth declared his unity with the human family enough to show us the infinite, life-giving nature of compassion, and its capacity to form community? Or, is it that God’s providential care always seems to come in such inexplicable abundance?

There’s a short story entitled “A Small Good Thing” that says something more about this. It tells of a young couple who are preparing to celebrate the eighth birthday of their only child. The party planning includes ordering a special birthday cake from a local baker. In a heart-wrenching tragedy, however, a passing car hits the boy on the morning of his birthday. Preoccupied with her son’s life-and-death struggle in the hospital, the mother forgets to call the baker and cancel the order. In inarticulate frustration, the baker begins making a series of cryptic calls to the family home. Three days after the accident, the boy dies, but the anonymous phone calls continue. Finally, the mother realizes who’s calling and in enraged grief she and her husband rush down to the bakery. To his credit, when the baker hears why they’ve not picked up the cake, he apologizes for his inexcusable behavior and offers them coffee and fresh rolls.

“You probably need to eat something,” the baker said. “I hope you’ll eat some of my hot rolls. You have to eat and keep going. Eating is a small good thing at a time like this,”.... “There’s more. Eat up. Eat all you want. There are all the rolls in the world here.”⁵

And so, together, they ate rolls and drank coffee. The mother found that she was suddenly so hungry, and the rolls were warm and sweet. She ate three of them, which pleased the baker. Then he began to talk and the parents listened. Although they were exhausted and still in deep anguish, they patiently listened to the baker’s story. They nodded when he, too, began to speak of loneliness and of the sense of doubt and limitation that had come to him in his middle years. He told them what it was like for him to be childless all these years, to repeat the days with the ovens endlessly full and then endlessly empty. He had a job that everybody seemed to need. He was a baker. He was glad he wasn’t a florist. It was better to be feeding people. This was a better smell anytime than flowers.⁶

And so Jesus is saying to us still, “You give them something to eat.” This relationship between paying attention to our constant need for food, and making compassionate human connections, really is “a small good thing” – maybe one of the most miraculous things of all.

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