Stories that Stick: Feeding the Five Thousand

Matthew 14:13-21

When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place. Hearing of this, the crowds followed him on foot from the towns. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed their sick.

As evening approached, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.”

Jesus replied, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat.”

“We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish,” they answered.

“Bring them here to me,” he said. And he directed the people to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people. They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. The number of those who ate was about five thousand men, besides women and children.

In 1998, Dan Wilson and his band Semisonic recorded the ultimate bar closing anthem, a song which is actually about giving birth, it was called, “Closing Time.” If you were in college in the late 90s or early 2000s, you know this song. If you’ve ever found yourself out too late on a Friday or Saturday night, and the fluorescent lights are suddenly turned on, and chairs are being flipped onto tables, then you know this song.

The song begins with a nice little piano lick then adds some fuzzy electric guitar sounds that were ubiquitous in 90s power pop. It slowly builds through the first verse until Dan Wilson sings the line that was kind of the ultimate challenge for 20-somethings after a long night of too much fun.

“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.”

In my early 20s, I could hear that line as one filled with possibilities. The night is still young! There’s more fun to be had. The world is my oyster. Taco Bell for everyone.

Of course I knew what it really meant. Time to go. You’ve had enough. You’re not our problem anymore.

As evening approached, the disciples came to Jesus and said, “This is a remote place, and it’s already getting late. Send the crowds away, so they can go to the villages and buy themselves some food.”

Usually when I hear this story about the feeding of the 5,000, I fixate on the miracle. It’s inexplicable. I focus on the volumes of leftover food. It’s extravagant.

But this event, which is recorded in all four gospels, really should never have happened.

Think about it. The disciples are right. It’s late. Jesus has been working all day. He’s been curing the sick. He’s been healing people. They’re in the middle of nowhere. A deserted place. A place devoid of the necessary resources to pull off something like this.

Not only that but Jesus is grieving — deep in the throes of grief. He’s just found out his cousin John, with whom he had a special kind of connection, has been murdered. By the state. Herod served up John’s head on a platter. It’s horrific. Everyone is talking about it.

So he needs some alone time. Some quiet time. Time to grieve and process. Time to think about what to do next.

But crowds find him, just like they always do.

They come from surrounding towns and villages by the thousands. They wander into the wilderness. They come ill-prepared and ill-equipped. They should have known better. They should have brought something with them. What did they think was going to happen?

There they are tired and hungry. The disciples see it. They know it’s not going to end well, unless they act quickly. Jesus we’ve got to disperse this crowd, they say. Send them away. Tell them to go, to take care of themselves.

People, look, you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. You can’t be our problem. We’ve got problems enough of our own. Clear the area.

That would have been the smart thing to do. It would have been the pragmatic choice. Go home. Get some rest. Get some food. We’ll see you tomorrow.

But that’s not what Jesus does. The whole episode has been motivated by Jesus’ gut. The pit in his stomach. That feeling you get when you see another human being suffering, or grieving, or in need. The reading says Jesus saw a large crowd and he had compassion on them.

Lame.

Jesus gets off the boat and sees a huge crowd but he also sees the spark of the divine behind each one of their eyes. He sees them. And he loves them. It wasn’t practical or pragmatic or safe or a good use of resources. Jesus was tired and beaten down and weary from working to make the kingdom of heaven a reality in the face of the forces of the empire.

But he saw the people. He loved them.

Now there was still no guarantee that these people were going to get fed. I mean. Jesus looks to the disciples. The purveyors of practicality, people like you and me and says, “We don’t need to send them away. You give them something to eat.”

The disciples are understandably confused. Look, we’ve only got five loaves and two fish. What good is that? How can that help?

I can feel the desperation in their question. What good is so little when the need is so great?

Let’s just send them away to fend for themselves. We couldn’t possibly make a difference. We are so few and there so many.

But Jesus works with what they have. He sees their simple offering and does the incredible, he does the unthinkable, the inconceivable.

Time and again, Jesus looks to us and says bring me what you have. Let me show what is possible through the power of God.

Last Friday we got a call from a member who had 42 kits of school supplies that they were looking to donate but didn’t have a place to share them. That same day another member reached out to let us know that they were working to collect 8000 school kits by this Thursday. This person offered what they had. God will work to multiply it to meet the need.

In 2014, we launched a capital campaign called Treasure in Clay Jars. As a part of that appeal, new cameras were put in the sanctuary here in Minneapolis so that we’d be able to record and share worship with those who were unable to be present on Sunday morning. The installation of that project was completed in 2018. Today for the 25th week in a row more than 400 households are worshiping together in this way during a global pandemic. We brought what we had, and God did something incredible.

In mid-September we will be launching a new capital campaign, we’re calling it, Building a Future with Hope. You’ll be learning more about the details and how you can participate in the coming weeks. It might seem like a terrible time to be undertaking a $2,000,000 appeal. But we’re inviting people to bring what they have to see what God can do. One-third of the funds will be in local and global restorative efforts. We will be helping to build supportive housing in Minneapolis and providing space for families to stay at hospital in Madagascar and hostels for students in India. We will be investing locally in emergency crisis help, mental health support, and restoration work in Minneapolis.

In the world we are living in right now, it would be easy to think the best way forward is to batten down the hatches, take care of me and mine, and wait for things to get better.

But this is Jesus we’re talking about. It isn’t closing time.

Jesus sees your hurt, your pain. Jesus sees the things you hunger. Jesus see the spark of the divine within you and your neighbor and says, hey, you don’t need to go anywhere. You don’t need to leave. Stay together, hold fast to one another, give me what you’ve got, even if it doesn’t seem like much.

Give it to me. And watch.

And get ready to be amazed. Amen.