Open the Gates

 

   A KID WITH A LUNCH

Isaiah asked, “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy?”

Michael Pollan, in his book In Defense of Food, talks about how we often consume what he calls “edible, food-like substances,” items you find on a grocery shelf that are so processed they can no longer really be considered food. Cheetos, for instance. Diet soda. Or how about my favorite: Pasteurized Processed Cheese Food? Pro tip—if they have to tell you it’s food, it probably isn’t. Pollan’s simple nutrition advice is, “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” We modern, Western people are frequently caught spending our money for that which is not bread, which does not nourish, and it shows in our health.

And I think of the labor we spend on non-nourishing brain content. I love Facebook. I’m on there all the time. I like feeling like I’m in touch with all these people. But I have to ask myself—is this stuff actually good for my mind? How much of my mental diet is AI slop—the Cheez-Whiz of content with no nutritive value whatever? Am I feeding my brain with junk food? And what about my soul?

Listening to Jesus, on the other hand, is like eating real food—whole grains, honest apples—for the soul. And it’s as delightful as homemade sourdough and tender new asparagus. The words and works of Jesus are so rich and delightful and nourishing that mobs and mobs of people follow him around to listen and be healed. Granted, a lot of them come out mainly for the healthcare. But they stick around. All day and into the evening. Listening. Learning. Feeding their minds and their souls.

Today’s Gospel story is an old, familiar one. The Matthew narrative leaves out the detail about the loaves and fishes being some kid’s lunch. Only highly symbolic John puts that part in. But the Matthew community does offer the strangely specific quantities—five loaves, two fish.

Not a lot. Even if the loaves were meter-long baguettes and the fishes were tunas, this would not be enough for thousands of people. But somehow it turns out to be enough and then some. How does that work?

Our Matthew readings for the past few weeks up until now have been parables. The Kingdom of God is like this, is like that. Remember, I think of this Kingdom as what I call Jesus Land, not so much an empire as a different way of being in the world. But parables for miles. So why a miracle story now, in the middle of all these parables?

Because the miracle itself is a parable.

I read a theory once from a theologian named Gil Bailie (in his book Violence Unveiled) who is among those who don’t take the story literally. He suggested that those loaves and fishes weren’t actually the only food available, but that this motley crowd, not knowing how kosher everyone else might be, avoided eating in company with possibly-unclean strangers. Besides that, many of them would be reluctant to eat without a ritual handwashing, no matter how hungry they were. This would explain the disciples suggesting they should all go into town and fend for themselves. That’s his theory of the case.

But what Bailie said that was interesting to me is that the real miracle here was getting all these people who didn’t know each other to open up and share what they had with complete strangers who hadn’t brought anything. The resulting feast was a lesson in the spiritual nourishment that comes from giving it all up for the Kingdom. If one kid (or whoever) can donate his lunch for the common good, maybe we all can, and maybe then there will be leftovers.

I don’t know. I kind of like the traditional reading, too, the idea that there is so much plenitude in the love of Christ that a little is a lot. It goes with the parables of power we’ve been reading in the past few weeks. Are the loaves and fishes a mustard seed? Do they grow and multiply without human assistance? Well, what does a mustard bush do when it has grown? It makes more mustard seeds. Lots more. That’s why it’s considered a weed. Birds’ nests, and a whole lot more mustard. Are the loaves and fishes just multiplying on their own? Or are they more like the yeast that has to be mixed in and kneaded in order to make what’s already there get bigger? Is our action required to bring the Kingdom about? The disciples had to have enough faith to hand out this meager snack to all those people and trust that it would somehow suffice.

So we’ve got five thousand-plus folks who have been listening to Jesus all day, probably hearing such parables about the Kingdom of God. Then, when everyone is starting to lose interest because their stomachs are growling, Jesus offers a parable in action. The boy, or whoever has the loaves and fishes, gives up all that they have, like the man who found the treasure in a field and sold all he had to buy it. In return, what they get is a taste of the Kingdom of God, a place where no one goes home empty, where there is enough and to spare, and it is all good, rich food that truly nourishes.

The Kingdom of God is like a kid with a lunch. Watch what happens when he gives it up.