(Adapted from John 6 and Matthew 14)
It was about twenty years ago, but I still vividly remember everything about that day! There I was—alone—the younger brother left holding the bag. Our mother had sent my older brother and me to the market early for the family’s dinner but on the way we got distracted. My brother saw his pals headed to the shore following along with a throng of people and so he tossed me the sack of bread and fish that he had been carrying and took off after them. I called after him to stop—but he ignored me. So I just kept walking toward the lake with the crowd to see what was happening and hopefully to find my brother. It was crazy! The man called Jesus was speaking and the crowd was mesmerized by his teaching—by his face. It was kind. It was a “Yes Face”—not like other frowning and furrowed-browed rabbis around the city. As he spoke, I snuck a little closer. My size gave me the advantage of being nearly invisible to the adults. They paid me no attention. I got close enough to see into his eyes—he even caught my gaze once, saw my sack—smiled and winked. I thought he was just being friendly to a kid. I liked him. He told stories that I understood, unlike the pious teachers who used big words that made me feel heavy after I heard them. Jesus spoke words of hope, life, and even humor. He was definitely different. Well as the sun began to settle on the horizon Jesus called one of his companions over. From where I was sitting I could hear the conversation clearly. “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?”, Jesus asked. The disciple (I later learned the man’s name was Philip) looked flustered. He shifted from side to side, looked around the hill side like he was doing some quick math in his head—bit his lip, scratched the back of his head and said: “We are out in the middle of nowhere—there’s no place to cater that kind of meal! Besides, eight months wages wouldn’t buy enough bread for each one to have even a bite!—and I can assure you that we don’t have that kind of money. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just let everyone do dinner on their own—it’s been a long day—no one expects us to feed them—we didn’t even invite them to this event, they just showed up. It’s not our responsibility to feed them! Look—best strategy is to just send them on their way—give them a quick blessing and lets go find some food for ourselves—we’re pretty hungry too, you know? But Jesus seemed disappointed with his answer--like he had hoped that they would see something more. He wasn’t angry—but more like a teacher whose students didn’t quite “get it” yet. His other disciples began to circle around Jesus when they saw him talking with Philip—I think they were under the impression that Jesus was about to dismiss the crowd and move on. But instead, he looked at them and said again: “Give them something to eat.” They were stunned and speechless. They knew what food they had with them--nothing. In fact, I later learned that this had been an especially difficult day for the group because they had received word that Jesus’ cousin, whom everyone in the area knew—John the Baptizer—had been beheaded by the king. So they were understandably emotionally edgy. And, instead of being able to retreat for some rest and recovery they found themselves surrounded by a crowd wanting to hear Jesus, and so they were physically drained as well. “How many loaves do you have?” Jesus asked them as he waved his hand over the crowd—meaning: Check to see if anyone in the crowd has anything they are willing to share. Somewhat reluctantly the pairs of disciples began to survey what must have been ten thousand people gathered on the hillside. I knew what they were doing so I hid my sack under my garments with my knees bent. This was our food—there wasn’t enough to share—besides what difference could my five loaves and two fish even begin to make? The pairs of disciples began to return empty-handed, shaking their head in the negative. Nothing. “I know it’s hard to believe, but not a single person in this crowd has a single loaf of bread…at least that’s what their story,” said one of the disciples sarcastically. The others nodded their heads in agreement and shrugged their shoulders in disbelief. “I’m not sure what Jesus thought we would find,” said another cynically under his breath. That whole time I sat there with my sack under my legs I kept thinking that even though they hadn’t bothered to ask me, I should offer to share my food. But each time I thought about saying something, I stopped short. I was afraid. Even I knew that my few things couldn’t feed all these people. But the feeling grew. What if they laugh at such a small, insignificant offering? But the feeling wouldn’t go away. I couldn’t stand it anymore so I stood up and took the bag I was carrying and lightly tugged on the cloak of one of the disciples. “Here. I have this.” I knew it wasn’t much, but it was all I had, and I guess I thought that they would give it back to me with a pat on the head, like you do boys who surprise you when they do the right thing. At least I would have tried. The disciple looked into the sack and smiled and looked to Jesus: “This boy has five small barley loaves and two small fish.” The others chuckled, but not Jesus. I wanted to be invisible again and I hung my head—embarrassed that I had stepped into an adult situation, but Jesus sitting on a stone, held out an open hand and pulled me up to his side and placed his hand on my shoulder and pulled me close as he gave instructions to the his disciples. “Have the people sit down in groups.” His disciples were dumbstruck and silent. They went back out among the crowd and asked them to sit. They sat. Jesus stood—beside me. With a look of joy he asked me for the loaves and fish wrapped in a cloth, and I raised them up to him and he raised them above his head and looking to heaven he gave thanks. Loudly. Boldly. Graciously. And he broke the bread and divided the fish. What happened next? I have no idea. I can’t even begin to comprehend what happened. It was a miracle--a miracle to be celebrated, not explained. Everyone on the hillside ate as much as they wanted and then each of the twelve disciples picked up a basketful of leftovers…12 baskets—one for each of them. I know this: It changed me…it changed me forever. I ate all that I wanted and still took five loaves and two fish home to the family. Somehow my small barley loaves and two small fish made a huge difference. I came with scarcely a thing and left with abundantly more.
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