Be with us, O Lord, for if you are with us
nothing else matters; and if you are not with us, nothing else matters. Amen.
One of the Psalms asks, “Can God set a table in the wilderness?” That’s the question, isn’t it? When we are deepest in our need and have nowhere else to turn, can we trust in God to provide? When we get a bad diagnosis, when the interview doesn’t go our way, when the addiction is taking over, when the bullies won’t go away – is God with us or not? And in this midst of this pandemic which is dragging on and leaving more and more death and disruption in its wake – in the midst of this wilderness, can God set a table of refreshment? I don’t know about you all, but for me, the Good News of the Gospel is that, indeed, God can and does set tables in the wilderness.
Tables
in the wilderness are another way of seeing the salvation of God. When you’re
out in the wilderness, it means that you are often isolated and far from
resources. Sure, maybe you packed some provisions, but when you run out the
trouble begins. In those situations where we’re out of options, we pray for, we
long for, we hope for God to make a way out of no way. That’s where we find
Jacob in the text from Genesis.
Jacob’s
name means “heel-grabber.” He is someone who always tries to circumvent things
to get what he wants out of a situation. He gets that name from his birth, in
which he tried to climb over his brother out of the womb so that he’d be the
firstborn. When that didn’t succeed, he managed to exploit and bargain it away
from his brother and trick his father into giving him the blessing of the
eldest son. His whole life has been a series of situations where his desire to
come out on top has either cost him or burned bridges. And now he’s out in the
wilderness, literally.
Tomorrow,
Jacob will meet with his brother Esau, who would have every right to get even
and put Jacob in his place. Jacob knows this might be his last night alive. So
he sends his family and possessions on ahead of him – perhaps as a peace
offering or perhaps so that they might escape, but the result is that Jacob is
alone in the wilderness wondering how he’s going to get out of this mess and
knowing that he has no power in himself to help himself.
Jesus
is also in the wilderness in today’s reading from Matthew. Unlike Jacob, Jesus
chose to be in this wilderness because he’s looking for a bit of rest. Jesus
has become quite popular and has been healing and teaching around the Galilee
region. Even for Jesus, taking a sabbath rest is important. More than taking
some time away though, Jesus is mourning. Right before this, his cousin, John
the Baptist, was brutally murdered by King Herod. Understandably, Jesus wants
to be alone to pray and grieve, so he goes in a boat across the Sea of Galilee
to a bit of wilderness to lay low. It’s also possible that Jesus knows that
those in power are turning their focus to those who might be deemed a problem
for them. With John out of the picture, Jesus now has a target on him. So a bit
of time off the grid is also a smart move for an endangered prophet. Whether
the wilderness is something we’ve brought on ourselves as in the case of Jacob or
something we seek out when we are troubled, as in Jesus’ case, does God meet us
there?
What
we see in both of these encounters is that the God of Grace meets us in the
wilderness. In Genesis, Jacob has a restless night with all that’s on his mind.
A man, who might have been God or an angel or someone that God used,
encountered Jacob and they wrestled all night. Now, why they wrestled, who
knows? Did Jacob try to start trouble with him? Were they both just bored and
thought a wrestling match would be a good way to pass the night? I don’t know.
But the Hebrew word for “wrestle” is derived from “to get dirty.” How
metaphorical we want to get with this is up to the reader, but we might say
that Jacob wrestled with the dirt of his past.
Jacob
is a great example of perseverance – he wrestled all night with this visitor.
And apparently, it was a rather even match until the man put Jacob’s hip out of
socket. Jacob then demands a blessing, and is given one in the form of a new
name. Jacob, a name meaning “one who supplants” is now named Israel, which
means “God prevails.” Jacob then names the place where this encounter happened
Peniel, which means “face of God.” In Jacob’s worldview, if you see God’s face,
you die. It was thought that God’s grandeur is too much for humans to endure
face-to-face. Anyone seeing God face-to-face would be overcome. But Jacob has
such an experience of God and lives. And in this encounter, Jacob receives a
blessing. And what happens next is nothing short of a miracle.
Esau
comes out to meet Jacob with 400 men. But instead of a battle ensuing, we read
that “Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed
him, and they wept.” The table of reconciliation was set in the wilderness.
With that blessing given by God, Jacob was no longer a usurper, but was humble,
someone who had gotten down to the dirt and came up knowing that God is God and
he is not. He also walked with a limp, a constant reminder of this new
identity. Was it, perhaps, seeing his brother walk with that limp that made
Esau see him differently? Maybe. But we know throughout Scripture that what
appears to be weakness is actually strength. Jacob limps, but it is not an
impediment, it is a reminder of his blessing.
We,
too, have been marked by God. We may not have wrestled in the dirt with God,
but we have been plunged into the waters with Jesus. In Baptism, we are sealed
with the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever. Whatever names and
nicknames we’ve gone by are surpassed as God calls us “beloved.” And just as
Jacob saw God and did not die, we too are given a new identity that rests in
eternal life. Just as Jacob found reconciliation in the wilderness, God can and
does bless us in the wilderness of our lives. No matter the situation – we are
the beloved of God.
When
the crowds descend upon Jesus in Matthew, they were also out of options and
hoping for a miracle. Matthew records that Jesus had compassion on them and
cured those who were sick. It was getting late, so acting as if they were Jesus’
handlers, the disciples are ready to send the people away so that they could go
find dinner. Jesus turns the tables though and says back to the disciples,
“Don’t send them away, you feed them.” Matthew tells us that there 5,000 men
there, in addition to women and children. So that’s going to be something like
15,000, maybe 20,000 people. In these days of COVID, I can’t fathom a gathering
of more than 25 people. But all the disciples have is five loaves of bread and
two fish, not even enough for a socially distanced meal with 10 people.
Jesus
certainly intends to feed the crowd, but how he does it is of note. Like the
bread of manna that fed the people in the wilderness after the Exodus, Jesus
could have called down bread from the sky. But, instead, Jesus says “Bring me
what you have.” This says a few things. For one, it means that Jesus wants the
disciples, and us, to participate in his ministry of feeding and healing. Jesus
didn’t need to start with what the disciples had, but he chose to. A paraphrase
of St. Augustine is “Without God, we cannot; without us, God will not.” Why God
chooses to act through Creation instead of unilaterally, I don’t know. But God
does. So don’t be surprised if you are asked to bring what you have to further
God’s mission.
Secondly,
whatever we have, it is enough for God. Notice that the disciples don’t hold
anything back though. It’s not as if they say, “Well, Jesus, we’ll need
something for later, but we can spare one loaf for you.” No, they give Jesus
all they have and what happens with that offering is nothing short of a
miracle. Facing that crowd, five loaves and two fish was the equivalent of
crumbs, but God made it work. What we see here is that when we offer our best
to God, even if it seems small, God can turn that little bit into something
spectacular. As St. Paul writes in Ephesians, “Glory to God, who working in us,
can do infinitely more than we can ask for imagine.” God works in us, so be
ready when God says “Bring me what you have.”
Jesus
then engages in the Eucharistic pattern of taking, blessing, breaking, and
giving. And the result is an overwhelming abundance – thousands of loaves and
fish. At this point, some will ask “Yea, but did this really happen?” What I
know is that everyone there ate, were filled, and there were plenty of
leftovers. Whether God did the miracle through opening people’s hearts to share
what they already had or whether God multiplied the loaves – the result is that
everyone had enough to eat. In that wilderness, God set a table and all were fed.
While
I’ve never witnessed one loaf of bread feeding a thousand people, I have seen a
group of dedicated followers of Jesus go to Rowan Helping Ministries and feed
hundreds of people. I’ve seen a Foundation support ministries in this community
and around the world with prayers and grants of over $200,000 a year. I have
seen Jesus transform people who struggle with addiction into free people. I’ve
seen Jesus take self-absorbed sinners and turn them into generous lovers. I’ve
seen Jesus take people ready to kill each other and turn them to friends. I’ve
seen Jesus take the best a congregation has and turn it into a church that
finds its identity in abundant grace, intentional worship, and beloved
community. The work that this congregation has done around racial healing and
justice is phenomenal. None of us were experts with this, but we’ve made a real
and tangible difference in the Salisbury community because we opened ourselves
to God working through us. And that’s going to continue when we come and see
the difference that Christ makes in our lives. So if God chose to feed those
hungry stomachs that day on the shores of Galilee, then I’d say that’s exactly
the sort of thing that I’ve come to see God do.
Indeed, God sets tables in the wildernesses of our lives. God feeds us with love that often comes through each other. And we see this supremely each week in the Eucharist. I know it’s been a long time since you all have been able to be physically nourished by this spiritual food, and that pains me. But I know that God can take desires for the Eucharist and still nourish us with that. When there wasn’t enough bread for the crowds, Jesus found a way to feed people. Though we can’t gather together at this altar to offer our praise and thanksgiving, Jesus can and does still feed us by his grace. Your participation in spiritual Communion is one of the many ways in which God continues to feed his people. Each week, as I’m preparing for the Eucharist, there are a set of prayers that I pray, and throughout this pandemic those have expanded to includ all of you – that by spiritual Communion we might be united to one another and all receive the grace of this Sacrament. And while I can’t wait to celebrate this feast with you all, in the meantime, I know that God will make a way out of no way and join us in that mystic sweet communion which transcends space and time. For, indeed, God sets a table in the wilderness.
