On that same day, also in Odessa, a local church hosted a luncheon. A free luncheon. For seventy destitute children. The workers in those Texas oil fields have faced spiking unemployment, and the number of unhoused families has risen dramatically in the past year.[2] With the rapidly spreading Coronavirus, the danger on the streets is real. The food at the church feast was simple, but it was offered in love and solidarity. Had Jesus of the Gospels wandered into Odessa this week, it’s not hard to guess where he would have pulled up a chair.
In Matthew’s Gospel, the ruler Herod Antipas is hosting a feast. Herod’s birthday party, described at the beginning of Matthew 14, must have been planned for months, a celebration truly “fit for a king.” Antipas is the puppet ruler of Galilee, placed on the regional Jewish throne by the conquering Roman Empire. [3] He is a Jew, but he was raised in Rome, works for Rome, and enjoys the power of the Empire. His palace is in a town that he calls “Autokratoris,” the “autocrat city,” the “Imperial City.” The name is apt. His world is one of Roman baths, triumphal statues, circuses, art, war, and conquest.[4] Herod’s party, attended by the wealthy elites, is bankrolled by the heavy taxes and tributes levied upon the Galilean peasants.[5] Thanks to their money and privilege, guests recline on couches, while slaves bring out platters of rich foods. They are entertained by dancing girls and live music. As Antipas lusts after the charms of Herodias and promises her the head of John the Baptist on a platter, his guests laugh uneasily and shrug. “O, that Antipas, what will he do next?” they whisper. But they might not want to give up their place at the party. Would we?
Jesus hosts a feast, too. Jesus’ feast isn’t planned, though—not at all. It is the last thing that he wants. He’s trying to get out of town. Perhaps Jesus feels the need to flee for his own safety after John’s death? But I imagine that he needs to grieve his cousin, to get away from the pressing crowds, to sit with God and breathe some fresh air. He needs a break from bearing the suffering that closes in on all sides. Perhaps, like us, he needs a little pause from the stream of bad news inundating his people. Today, I imagine that there are quite a few first responders and ER personnel who understand how depleted Jesus might be feeling. But like those on the front lines of this Pandemic, Jesus doesn’t get a break.[6] The crowds, carrying their sickness and their desperation, follow him. Thousands and thousands of men, women, and children.
Jesus’ feast is prompted by compassion. His guests have no resources. They don’t even have food to eat. The Galilean peasants who surround Jesus are suffering from extreme poverty and food insecurity. Rome robs them of a fair portion of the fruits of their labor in the fields. Some survive at home by eating roots and grass.[7] Many of the sicknesses that bring the crowds to Jesus are the result of this hunger and malnutrition.[8] Even Jesus’ disciples are overwhelmed by the need that they are witnessing. Their meager supplies--five loaves and two fish—aren’t enough to turn this desperate gathering into a feast. The bread and fish might make a fine dinner for the twelve—if they don’t have to share it, that is. Food, personal protective equipment, PPP loans, endowments, even Clorox and toilet paper … we need to make sure we have enough first, right?
Jesus doesn’t let anyone’s fear or lack of imagination stop his feast, however. He feels each individual ache, each plea for mercy, each pang of hunger—and he reaches out to heal, to make whole again. In the absence of golden couches, his guests simply sit on the ground. In the absence of resources, blessing is offered, and all are filled. In the absence of enough, they end up with a surplus. Into the despair, suffering, and inequity the world of Herod Antipas—into our world—Jesus brings the amazing fullness of God, a fullness with no end.
In the Hebrew Bible, God’s kingdom on earth is often portrayed as an abundant feast for all people. Ezekiel promises that God will provide enough vegetation so that no one will be “consumed with hunger in the land.”[9] We just heard the prophet Isaiah call out, “everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy, and eat!”[10] Isaiah earlier describes God’s banquet as “a feast of rich food … [and] well-aged wines.”[11] God “satisfies the thirsty and the hungry [God] fills with good things,” sings the Psalmist.[12] Food is health. It is power. It is life. Food for all is each human being sitting under her own fig tree, where no one can make her afraid.[13]
When I read today’s Gospel lesson, I wasn’t thinking of any of this at first. Instead, a wave of longing washed over me. When I have preached this text in the past, I have always tied it to the Eucharist. In feeding the crowd, Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to the people, just as I long to do. I want to gather with you all at the altar, to feed and be fed. How wonderful it would be to hold out my hands again and have the bread of life laid upon my own open palm. I am hungry. Hungry for communion that isn’t merely “spiritual.” For years we have followed Jesus, listening to his teaching. Now we have followed him to this barren place, to a landscape filled with sickness and want. After five months of “safety at home,” most of us are through listening to words. We want dinner. We want God to fill the hollow gnawing of our souls and to pour out some comfort into our empty cups. Isn’t church the one place where we can count on being fed by God? How dare anyone or anything take that away from us?
When we come to this text, we come looking for one kind of food—comfort food, “church food,” the food that we know. What if God is offering us another dish today? What if our Eucharistic fast can stir another kind of hunger in our bellies—a hunger for justice, a gnawing desire for righteousness?[14] What if God is through listening to words. What if God wants all of God’s beloved children finally to get dinner? What if God is telling us, “You—You feed them.” Feed them food; feed them justice and love and honor and freedom. Feed them with all that you have been given.
The next time that we are invited to a feast, I suggest we call to mind those rubber bracelets that were so popular in the ‘90’s. Let’s ask ourselves: WWJD. Where would Jesus dine?
[1]Patrick Svitek and Mitchell Ferman, “Trump rallies oil and gas workers in the Permian Basin against Democrats ahead of the November election,” Texas Tribune, July 29, 2020, https://www.texastribune.org/2020/07/29/president-trump-texas-visit-oil-and-gas-permian-basin/.
[2] Courtney Borchert, “Housing Crisis Pulls Families into Homelessness,” OA Online, March 8, 2019, https://www.oaoa.com/news/local/housing-crisis-pulls-families-into-homelessness/article_982b4520-41f5-11e9-8a96-eb893c66540e.html. In nearby Midland, Covid-19 has dramatically increased the isolation of the unhoused. See Caitlin Randle, “Midland’s Homeless ‘More Isolated than Ever,’” MRT, April 11, 2020, https://www.mrt.com/news/article/Midland-s-homeless-more-isolated-than-ever-15194773.php.
[3] Herod the Great’s kingdom was divided among his three sons. The “tetrarch” Herod Antipas ruled Galilee and Perea from 4 BCE to 39 CE.
[4]Richard A. Horsley, “Archaeology of Galilee and the Historical Context of Jesus,” Neotestamentica 29, no. 2 (1995): 219-220, www.jstor.org/stable/43048222.
[5]Roman society was aristocratic, agrarian, and hierarchical. A small group of the elite ruled over the majority and monopolized social privileges. They “aggrandized their wealth without any moral hesitation or public interest.” Dong Sung Kim, “Feeding the Poor and Disrupting the Empire: An Imperial-Critical Reading of Feeding Narratives (Matthew 14:13-21; 15:32-30), 한국기독교신학논총, 103 2017: 400, http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&AuthType=sso&db=lsdar&AN=ATLAiG0V170320000076&site=ehost-live
[6] Many scholars believe that Jesus was perhaps fleeing Antipas, who saw him as a threat and continuation of John’s work. See Joseph B. Tyson, “Jesus and Herod Antipas,” Journal of Biblical Literature, vol. 79, no. 3 (1960): 239–246, www.jstor.org/stable/3263929. For the purposes of this sermon, however, I find that a grieving, worn out Jesus speaks so clearly to our time that it is worth offering that explanation here.
[7] Kim, 402.
[8] Ibid.
[9] Ezekiel 34:29
[10] Isaiah 55:1
[11] Isaiah 25:6
[12] Psalm 107:9. Other references to God’s desire to feed God’s people can be found in 2 Kings 42-44 (Elisha feeding 100 men from 20 loaves of barley and fresh ears of grain, also producing left-overs) and of course Exodus 16 (the Israelites fed with manna in the desert.)
[13] Paraphrase of Micah 4:4.
[14]Warren Carter clearly makes the point that God’s feeding action is in contrast with the hunger produced by the unjust rule of the imperial powers. Warren Carter, “Commentary on Matthew 14:13-21,” Working Preacher, August 3, 2014, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2075.
Anne, these insights are incredible! Thank you so much for writing this!
ReplyDeleteJudy Gradl
Thanks, Judy!
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