Jesus is the host
Readings: Matthew 14. 13-21
I wonder if they noticed as the miracle was happening? Five loaves and two fish broken up isn’t a lot is it, and yet as it goes around that great crowd everyone has enough to eat and be satisfied. I wonder if they noticed it was going further than expected, I wonder if they noticed that the supply didn’t seem to be running out. Five thousand fed, and, as Matthew alone notes, that’s just counting the men.
As our Gospel reading begins we find Jesus hearing that John the Baptist is now dead, killed by Herod during his birthday feast after an ill-conceived vow to his step-daughter to give her whatever she wanted. And, quite naturally, Jesus withdraws to a desert place to be alone. Perhaps he’s mourning for his cousin, perhaps grieving that once again God’s prophets are killed. Perhaps he sees in this a sign of his own approaching death. Jesus withdraws, away from the crowds, and yet soon they come looking.
Matthew is being characteristically brief here, but if we read the other accounts we find confirmed what Matthew hints at here, the crowds beat them to it, Jesus gets no alone time, by the time the boat lands in the deserted place it is no longer deserted. But Jesus isn’t upset, cross or frustrated by this, he sees this crowd and immediately has compassion on them, he sees their need and meets it, curing their sick. Whilst we may react rather poorly to our planned rest being foiled, Jesus sees their need and attends to it at once. His actions are marked by compassion and care.
They’re clearly there for a while because the next thing we know it’s the evening, the crowds will be getting hungry and they’re far from the towns and villages. And so the disciples come to Jesus and tell him to pack up for the night, to send the crowds away so they can eat. But Jesus has other ideas. You feed them, he says. It’s a remarkable request, ‘you feed them’. The other Gospel writers then record a lot of back and forth between Jesus and the disciples, about how much it would cost, about how little food they have for the great number present, but Matthew skips over all of that and instead simply informs us that all they have is five loaves and two fish. Matthew is very deliberately keeping our attention focussed on Jesus. Whereas the other accounts place more people on the stage, here it’s like we’ve got a spotlight on Jesus with the others just outside the light, interacting but not the focus. It’s not about them. So often we make serving Jesus about ourselves, make this place about ourselves, make serving others about ourselves, but it’s all about Jesus, always about Jesus. And that’s a wonderful thing, because if it’s all about us we have five loaves and two fishes, but if it’s all about Jesus, 5000 people are about to be fed.
So Jesus stands as host of the meal, he takes the bread and fish, gives thanks, breaks the loaves and gives them to the disciples, and the disciples give them to the people. And as the food moves around the crowd it simply keeps on going, keeps on feeding, nourishing, sustaining. Everyone eats, and doesn’t just eat but are fully satisfied, fed to full. No-one is left hungry, no-one is wishing there was a little more, everyone is satisfied.
And as they gather up the leftovers they fill twelve baskets with the broken pieces. Isn’t that remarkable? I almost find it the most remarkable part of this miracle. There is more left over once over 5000 people have been fed than had been given in the first place. It would be one thing to feed the crowd until they were satisfied and then to run out of food, that would be still be utterly remarkable, that would still be an amazing miracle. But Jesus doesn’t do that, he feeds everyone and still has twelve baskets of leftovers. Jesus doesn’t give us just enough, he is always generous, giving more than is needed. But these leftovers also tell us something else about Jesus, about his provision, and the feasts that he holds. There is always room for one more. He doesn’t simply produce sufficient for those present, there is always room for one more at his feast, room for one more at the table when he is the host. And from what we can tell Jesus only ever hosted three meals. He is often found at meals and feasts and celebrations but more often the guest rather than the host. He’s explicitly the host of the meal here, at the feeding of the 5000, again at the feeding of the 4000 and finally at the Last Supper. There are a few other times where perhaps he’s the host, but only on these three occasions is it made explicit.
As Jesus gathers with his disciples in that upper room, as we will remember in just a few moments, once again he takes the bread, gives thanks, breaks it and gives it to his disciples. It’s the conclusion of a lifetime of sharing meals with people, people who were often unworthy, people who knew their need and found it in him. As Jesus sits as host of that meal we find him no longer meeting their physical needs in abundance but their spiritual needs. As he breaks bread he does so no longer to simply satisfy their bodies but their very souls, giving bread not simply for this life, but bread for eternal life.
Once again Jesus takes bread and transforms it into something remarkable, not bread that expands beyond its natural amount as it did in this moment at the feeding of the 5000, but bread that expands to satisfy our very souls. Bread that does more than bread normally does, feeding not simply on bread and wine, but on him, the one who gives himself even to death so that we might live.
And so as we gather around this table today, Jesus is the host. It is not my table, it is not the churches table, it is Jesus’ table. We so often can see church as what we give to God; our praise and worship and attention, or about how we are serving the community around us, reflecting the generosity and compassion of Jesus we see in our Gospel reading today, and those are all good things, but far more importantly, as we gather in this place, it’s about what God gives to us. As we gather around Jesus’ table we find that he is still the host. That he still has compassion for his people and meets them in their need. That as we set before him what we have to offer, bread, wine, he will once again transform it beyond its natural bounds. For he is still the one who feeds his people, feeding not simply our bodies but our very souls. And he continues to be generous, giving us more than we need, giving in abundance that so that we can pass on the gift.
It’s why, when I celebrate Communion I always consecrate at least one more piece of bread than the number of people here. It’s not that I’m bad at counting, it’s because with Jesus there is always room for one more, he is always generous, always inviting, and so there is always at his table food left to spare. And so I consecrate more than needed as a reminder to myself, and to all of us of that truth. There is always room for one more at his table.
My brothers and sisters, as we gather today, as we gather around his table, as we take bread, give thanks, break it and give it, may we know the love of Jesus for ourselves. With him as the host may we meet him as the one who has compassion for his people, who gives us what is needed and gives it in abundance. The one who feeds us at his table and by his word. May we be filled and filled to the full, knowing his provision for our need. And as we go out, let us not neglect to return, when we are weary, when we are empty, when life has taken its toll on us, to return once again to his table, to once again set before him ourselves, that we may be fed and transformed, ready to serve him once again.
Amen.