The disciples are home! Fresh from a
successful missions trip, they are eager to tell Jesus about all they’ve seen
and done. Jesus, for His part, seems a little subdued. The disciples may not
know it at the time, but Jesus has just learned that His cousin John has been
beheaded on a whim. Now that the last and greatest prophet of the Old Covenant
has been killed in a most symbolic and despicable manner, the New Covenant –
and the New Kingdom – can enter in. It is a bittersweet moment for Jesus.
Despite the need for debriefing and
introspection, there is neither time nor opportunity. The crowd is here yet
again. It is particularly telling that, on this occasion, the crowd is so hyper
focused on its immediate need for healing that they forget or fail to bring
food. Always short-sighted and ravenous, the crowd cannot see beyond its next
meal. No wonder they will prove themselves so fickle in just a few months’
time.
The disciples are feeling pretty
accomplished. Flush with their recent success (“We got this!”), they put their
newfound administrative skills to work, set up an ad hoc committee to survey
the crowd and complete a feasibility study in short order.
“Here’s what we know,” they tell Jesus. “They’re
hungry.”
“So feed them,” says Jesus.
“We can’t! Well, that’s not quite true. We
have two options: send them away to fend for themselves or feed only a few with
the five loaves and two fishes we have. OK, three options. If we absolutely
have to, we can go shopping and set up a soup kitchen.”
What the disciples have to say sounds
perfectly reasonable and rational. The need is too great for the resources at
hand. They cannot possibly do this, which is all the more reason why Jesus seizes
the opportunity to remind them that – a very short time ago – God granted them
with power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases. Surely God can
feed a few thousand Israelites in the wilderness, can’t He?
What happens next sounds like a simple
communal meal – except no meal was prepared. There are no cook tents to be set
up, no pots and pans to wash, no cook fires to be tended and no wrappers to be collected.
Just food – sudden, miraculous food. And with a nod to those Israelites in the
wilderness, the provision is not only abundant – it is perfect. The people are
fed to their satisfaction and the disciples – who’ve been pressed into service
– are left with perfectly sized individual portions (happy meals, indeed) of
their own.
At what point, we wonder, does the miracle
take place? Is it when Jesus blesses the food and begins to distribute it? Or
is it when the disciples, full of faith, keep returning to Jesus for more food
to distribute? Or do the baskets remain full as they are passed around? We don’t
know, and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that the disciples didn’t
question Jesus’ plan even though it directly contradicted their understanding of
the situation. Instead, they just kept coming to Him in faith and in so doing,
found satisfaction.
There’s another echo here of another time,
another prophet, and it comes at a propitious moment. Elisha performed a
similar feat on a smaller scale early in his ministry. While, admittedly, he
was no Elijah, he was no slouch, either, and he was given a double portion of
Elijah’s spirit. There are signs here to be read for those who have eyes – words
to be heard for those who have ears.
It’s time for Jesus to ask his disciples what
they’ve seen and heard – what they’ve figured out – and to uncouple them from
their affinity for the crowd. It’s time for a serious reality check.
Looking up from prayer, Jesus asks: “Who do
the crowds say that I am?” It seems a casual question, and yet it was one that
Jesus prayed about before asking. Therefore, it is a question that is carefully
asked.
The disciples tick off the possibilities on
their fingers: John the Baptist (ouch), Elijah, one of the prophets of old
(Elisha). None of these are anywhere near the realm of possibility, nor do they
coincide with scripture. The crowd, drunk on its own need, is clearly not
thinking nor is it considering Jesus as anything more than a faith healer who
puts out an occasional meal.
“But who do you say that I am?”
And Peter answered, “The Christ of God.”
(Judas, looking up from his hourly perusal of
the moneybag, scowls at Peter and mouths the words, “Suck up!”)
Elsewhere, Matthew tells us that Jesus praises
Peter for this statement. Luke, however, focuses on the fact that Jesus does
not want them to be deceived. Being the Son of Man, the Christ of God, is not
like being Homecoming King. It’s not a popularity contest, because the Kingdom
of God is not a popular movement. It’s not a political office, because the
Kingdom of God is a spiritual kingdom – not a physical one.
In fact, Jesus tells them. Being the Son of
God – the Christ of God – means He will suffer many things, be rejected by the
very people who have been waiting and looking for Him, be killed and then be resurrected
from the dead.
The disciples can be heard flipping through
their pocket-sized copies of the Torah muttering, “I don’t get that at all from
reading this…Where is that again?”
But wait, says Jesus, there’s more.
If you thought I was calling you to become
giants in your community, generals of troops whose honor and privilege it is to
restore the nation of Israel to its former glory and to usurp Rome as the world
superpower…if you thought I was at the head of a revolution to tear down the
oligarchy and redistribute their wealth to ourselves first and then to the
poor…if you thought that by following me you would have power, wealth,
security, popularity and the approval of others…you were wrong. Really, really
wrong.
I am being called to suffer, to be
rejected, executed and resurrected. And because you are my disciples, I am
calling you to be the same.
(There’s a loud thump in the back as Judas – digging
deep into the moneybag for what he’s sure is a denarius – knocks a lamp off a table.)
Jesus, the first, last and best prophet of
the New Covenant, tells them plainly: I will be tried on trumped up charges by
the priests and scribes, turned over to the Gentiles and killed. It will not be
a glorious death. I will be executed as a criminal. I will be crucified. Are
you ready to walk this path with Me?
Sadly, you can hear the crickets chirp. No
one says a word. And then, from the back, you can hear Judas jingle a few
newfound coins in his greedy, grubby hand.
