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Chapter Twenty-Three

Feeding The Five Thousand

I’m still not sure what Jesus greatest miracle was. He did so many. Perhaps at the top of the list, however, is what he was forced to do the morning after his Sermon on the Mount. We awakened once again with sunlight streaming in through the roof. It was late morning. Jesus was up and about, this time managing the cleanup of Peter’s house. Because of the shambles caused by Azariah’s sons, we were expected by Dinah to clean up the mess. There were fewer idlers outside this morning, so we were able to toss the rubble safely in back of the house. That done, we cleaned ourselves up with the water fetched by Judas plus an extra bucket Bernice brought in after tending to Bartholomew’s mule. Breakfast was, as it was many times, simple: goat cheese, milk, and bread (fresh on this occasion) and dates Esther had been saving for a special occasion. This morning would prove to be a special occasion.

As before, the disciples, as well as Tobin, Mary, and Peter’s family, accompanied Jesus. Azariah and several other new members had been waiting outside Peter’s door. Inexplicably, Azariah had not lived up to his promise to have Peter’s roof repaired. What Jesus would say to the multitude today we had no clue. Almost immediately, though, an element of alarm was added to the mystery. As Jesus feared, the people were hungry. Ishbadad, who had been delegated to lead Jesus to the waiting congregation, explained their dilemma in a matter-of-fact manner, having been wise enough, himself, as many of the people, to bring provisions. Jesus gave him a troubled look but said nothing, until we arrived on the hilltop again. Looking down at the multitude, he shook his head.

“The foolishness of men and women exceeds their faith,” he said to Ishbadad. “So eager are they to see miracles and hear great words, they don’t bring food for their families or themselves.”

“Tsk-tsk,” Ishbadad clicked his tongue, “foolish indeed!”

“Jesus,” Peter tugged his sleeve, “those people look hungry. What’re we gonna do?”

“We’re not doing anything,” he seemed to jest. “I have to solve this dilemma, not you.” “Ishbadad.” He turned to the representative. “Bring me someone’s lunch.”

“Pardon me?” Ishbadad was taken back. “Did you say ‘someone’s lunch?’ ”

“That’s what I said.” Jesus frowned.

Bartholomew, who, as always, was bringing up the rear, cupped his ear. “What did Jesus say?” he asked Tobin.

“I think he said someone’s lunch or was it hunch?” Tobin turned to Mary.

“Lunch, silly!” Mary giggled.

By now, Ishbadad had scurried down the hillside on his quest. After only a few moments, he returned pulling a little boy along impatiently by his hand.

“Be careful with that child!” scolded Jesus.

“What is Jesus doing now?” Dinah grumbled to Esther.

“Hello, Ahab,” Jesus called to the boy. “What do you have for us today?”

“Five loaves and two fish,” the boy answered promptly.

“Well, that’s a big lunch for such a little fellow,” Jesus said, tousling his hair. “How about sharing that with us?”

The boy nodded unhesitantly.

“Are you serious, rabbi?” Ishbadad laughed. “What can you do with that?”

“Watch and believe,” Jesus replied calmly. “Peter, Andrew, Philip, John…” he called out our names, “the people are spread out. Gather them closely around the hill, so that we can distribute the loaves and fish easily.”

“Gather them together?” Judas asked in amazement. “Is he mad? There are thousands of people down below.”

“Do what he says!” Peter pointed a finger into his chest.

“Judas is right,” James complained, as we set forth, “this is insane!”

“James,” I chided. “After all your fine words, you doubt him now?”

“Even Jesus has his limits!” grumbled James.

My words had belied what I really felt and yet I felt giddy, eagerly setting about our task. Making shooing motions, we scooted the crowd upwards, a Jesus stood on the crest directing each sector of the hill. After a short while, the multitude was bunched up around the slope. From testy remarks to outright blasphemies, members of the crowd let us know how they felt. Finally, after maneuvering here and there, Jesus raised his thumb in the Roman fashion (signaling in the arena life for a fallen gladiator). Jesus gave the Shema, and then blessed the bread and fish, with a simple prayer. At that point, the miracle of the five thousand written differently by Matthew, Mark, and Luke commenced. Having read all accounts thanks to Luke, who collected Jesus words and sayings, I’m not sure who was more accurate between the three writers. In the words of a Greek, time is the enemy of truth. What the apostles had wrong in their accounts, however, was insignificant compared to the actual miracle, itself, which no one can doubt. Breaking the first loaf up and handing it to Peter, it was torn in two and passed down the line. From Andrew, Philip, John, his brother, and then onto the rest of us, it remained one half loaf—the first miracle witnessed that hour. Not long after this distribution began, Jesus repeated this with a second loaf, then the third, followed by the two fish (one at a time), each time tearing the portions in half and each time the half remaining as it continued through the crowd. In what should have been a nightmare of distribution, the recipients of the food simply divided their share and passed it on until finally the multitude sat on the grassy slope eating the little boy’s lunch.

“This is awesome!” Judas, who had so recently, thought Jesus was mad, cried.

“I still can’t believe it,” James said, munching on his bread. “We all have three half loaves and two halves of the original fishes; who could ask for more?”

“Look!” Philip pointed a pair of men, carting a baskets in each hand, “those are left-overs.”

“Ho-ho,” Jesus laughed heartily. “Let the people take some of it for their trip home. What’s left they can give to the poor!”

All of Jesus followers—the Twelve Disciples, members of the Seventy, Mary Magdalene, Esther, Dinah, and Bernice had seen what they thought was Jesus greatest miracle… But the week in which Jesus preached to the multitudes was still young and Jesus mission on earth wasn’t halfway done.

******

Though the gospel writers didn’t divide Jesus appearances before crowds into separate stages, I could see major phases so far in his ministry. The first phase was preaching salvation, as he had to smaller groups in which he and his disciples gave the rites and baptized, following his encounter with John the Baptist in the River Jordan. The second phase began during his Sermon on the Mount when he uttered sayings that essentially redefined the Ten Commandments and gave a plan for living righteously that was simpler yet, in some ways, were more demanding than what is found in the law. That day, as I now reflect, there would be a third stage, which I call the ‘parable phase,’ which became increasingly important in the days ahead. Because he followed God’s schedule and timetable, there were, of course, no hard and fast rules for Jesus. What was revealed by God to him and unchangeable was his purpose to spread the word and his expectations for us to do the same. That our separate missions would begin soon, we clearly understood. Jesus was, after all, only one man. The multitude, as large as it was, struck me as but a microcosm of the thousands untouched by the word.

As we watched Jesus gather his thoughts while looking out at the cheerful, munching and smacking faces of diners, we hadn’t expected today to equal yesterday’s sayings to the crowd. They weren’t even paying attention. Any moment, we expected another batch of sick, lame, blind, and demon-possessed people to line up on the slope. Once again, we weren’t disappointed. Idleness invited opportunity. What preceded his parables, therefore, was a series of healings much greater than yesterday.

“Speak, Jesus,” coaxed Peter, “before they come!”

Jesus had waited too long, however. Most of the crowd, apparently finished with their lunches, grew restless. To make matters far worse, in the near distance, we could see men and women hobbling or being led by others: the sick, lame, blind, and possessed. Much more important in the very near future, was a distant multitude of people, moving over the field near the lake.

“Why did he dally?” Philip groaned.

“This isn’t the first time,” John grumbled. “He can’t heal the whole world. What did everyone do when he wasn’t here?”

“Good question.” Peter scratched his head. “His patients have all kinds of ills, from simple sores to blindness. One fellow who brought his wife in could have patched her up at home. Jesus shouldn’t use his miracles for every cut and bruise.”

Jesus had already moved out to meet the line of supplicants before the disciples began grumbling, but I’m certain he heard their complaints. Despite our concerns for his welfare, we understood, each in our own way, what this meant. The fishermen found it difficult to put it into words, but I viewed it as a high water mark for Jesus’ ministry. Apprehensive about the demanding crowds as we were, none of us wanted to miss a thing. Though Bartholomew hadn’t been able to bring his cart along, he and Tobin remained steadfast, as did Peter’s family. While Esther and Dinah, assisted crotchety Tobin between them, Bernice and Mary braced Bartholomew’s trembling elbows, to keep him from falling down.

“There-there,” Mary said to Bartholomew, “sit down here and rest a spell.”

“Phew,” he exhaled, wiping his brow, “I’m not what I used to be.”

“None of us are what we used to be,” she replied, easing him down onto the grass. “I envy you and the other men. You’re his disciples. I’m just one of the women.”

“Oh, your much more than that.” Bartholomew said artlessly. “You’re one of Jesus’ greatest cures.”

That could have been taken as an insult by Mary, considering what she was cured of (prostitution and demon possession), but I could tell by her grin that she considered it a great compliment. That moment, though, as Jesus began his healing, Bartholomew gave Mary another compliment she found less suitable when he told her she would make someone a fine wife and, God willing, have many children. Of course, in a spiritual sense, Mary would one day think of herself as married to Jesus, but now, considering her high expectations, his second compliment made her frown severely with disapproval. Because of the male dominancy in Jewish society as well as among Jesus disciples, such statement was expected. Bernice, for her part, saw it as praise to Mary’s womanhood.

“It’s true, Mary,” she said discreetly, “you could have your pick of those men.”

“I don’t think so,” whispered Mary, glancing down at Bartholomew. “He’s a silly old man!”

Had these moments not demanded a certain amount of reverence, I might have broken into laughter. Neither Bernice nor Mary understood what sort of men we were. That very instant, Jesus cured an epileptic girl, who had fallen into a faint, then a jerking and gyrating fellow who may have been possessed. Afterwards, he healed a blind women, a child with a withered arm, and countless ailments, ranging the gamut of human misery. I’m not making light of this; I simply don’t have the time or ink to write down all his cures. There was no telling how much healing he would have to accomplish when the second group appeared. Jesus was forced to perform his miracles expeditiously this time. Suffice it to say it took just long to complete this batch for the second multitude to spot Jesus and come rushing to the scene.

“Great Moses beard!” Andrew pointed. “We’ll be surrounded!”

“Quick!” Jesus came alive. “To the water, Peter.”

“What for?” Judas frowned. “Then he’ll really be trapped!”

“No, he won’t,” I said with understanding, “not if he’s in a boat.”

“Good idea!” exclaimed Peter. “After preaching awhile, you can make a proper getaway.”

“Esther, Dinah, Bernice, and Mary,” he snapped his fingers, “there’s not enough room in the boat. Wait for us back at the house.”

“What!?” Mary looked around in disbelief.

“Come on Mary,” Dinah crooked her finger. “We don’t want to be caught in that mob!”

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “I’m staying!”

Dinah, who had never liked the headstrong Mary, threw up her hands. “Foolish girl!” she grumbled. “What does Jesus see in her?”

I couldn’t hear Esther’s response, but I saw her glance back with a frown. Bernice, who had made friends with Mary, gave her a sympathetic look, as did the converts made that day. Peter’s family had accepted his suggestion with moderate protests, but for Mary this was a serious affront. I felt sorry for her, but more sorry for Bartholomew, who felt obliged, in spite of his ills, to climb into the boat. He was too old and infirmed to be in our company. Why Jesus chose him, I will never know. The boat was now crammed to its limit, rocking too and fro as Bartholomew found his place. It took the rest of us, after frantically grabbing oars, to row a safe distance from the crowd.

Moving out a ways, as Jesus stood by the mast, we watched anxiously as some of the horde waded into the water. Tobin, Azariah, and the other new converts remained ashore to witness the event from afar. Mary, who refused to go back with the other women, stood amongst them, her arms folded resolutely. I admired that young woman’s spirit. Even at such a great distance, she was a striking and beautiful woman.

In what many call his Sermon on the Lake, which Matthew would later record, Jesus moved into the third phase of his ministry I mentioned earlier: parables, giving his listeners short sermons, which, through stories of human interaction, showed designs for living as well a path to salvation and eternal life. From one of Peter’s boats, while clutching the mast, he became a storyteller, rather than a preacher.

“Faith is like a field,” he began after gathering his thoughts. “A farmer went out to his field to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up.  Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, because the soil was shallow. But when the sun came up, the plants were scorched, and they withered because they had no root.  Other seed fell among thorns, which grew up and choked the plants.  Still other seed fell on good soil, where it produced a crop— multiplying thirty, some sixty, some a hundredfold.”

“So you no see,” he exclaimed, pointing to the sky. “The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared. The owner’s servants came to him and said, ‘Sir, didn’t you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?’ ‘An enemy did this,’ his master replied. The servants then asked him, ‘Do you want us to pull them up?’ ‘No,’ he answered, ‘because if you pull the weeds, you may uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I’ll tell the harvesters to collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned, then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.’”

As I gazed out at those closest to the shore, I could see blank faces and a few frowns. Parables were too subtle for most of their rustic minds. Clearly, however, to the more astute, it might seem that Jesus was referring to heaven and hell in this parable. Why Jesus even spoke in parables would be answered later to his disciples, when he explained why he used them and what the most important of them actually meant.

“Why is he being so mysterious?” James whispered in my ear.

“He’s trying to make a point,” I whispered back.

In hindsight, however, I realize this isn’t quite true. It didn’t appear to matter that the multitude and most of his disciples didn’t understand them; Jesus was, I understand now, speaking to the ages. Even back then, I understood the mindset of my people. His Sermon on the Mount was relatively easy to comprehend. It was something a preacher would say to a crowd, but that day on the lake, in a difficult to understand parable, Jesus appeared to skirt the ultimate issue, perhaps because he didn’t believe the multitude was ready, that he was the promised Messiah. Unfortunately, the great majority of Jews expected a conquering redeemer like King David. From the beginning, I had feared for Jesus safety—a fear based upon the attitude of Pharisees, scribes, and temple agents. Now, a feeling of trepidation for Jesus grew in me that had a much wider scope…. As I studied the miracle-seeking crowd and the mob Jesus fed before, mingling together for one final show, I wondered how many of them were only dazzled by Jesus ‘magic’ and charisma. Those who became converts, who hadn’t melted away after coming to their senses, would, I know now, become what we would one day call the ecclesia, but that hour Jesus’ audience struck me as a great horde of rabble, who didn’t understand Jesus at all.

Perhaps sensing their frame of mind, he paused, as if mentally constructing a different story. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed,” he resumed, “one which a man planted in his field.  Though it is the smallest of all seeds, yet when it grows, it is the largest of garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds come and perch in its branches.”

After this, however, Jesus grew enigmatic again when he said, “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed into and worked all through the dough.”

This short parable drew blank looks from everybody, including myself. As I understand it now, thanks to my friend Luke, who expounded upon Matthew and his own recording of what he called the Parable of Unleavened Bread, this short parable is an explanation of the Lord’s grace upon the believer. As Luke saw it, the word works like leaven in the hearts of those who receive it, slowly and silently, as when bread rises and expands. When I first heard this, however, I was puzzled by its brevity. It seemed incomplete. Everyone waited for Jesus to finish his train of thought. Jesus, in fact, paused a few moments before continuing, as if listening to his father.

During this pause, the audience and his own disciples grew restless. It was plain to everyone that Jesus’ sermon on the mount and sermon on the lake were different. When Jesus gave his sayings to the first crowd, they had listened quietly, hanging onto his every word. This time the multitude, upon hearing the new format, grew restless. Most of those who waded out into the water had retreated and were sitting idly on the shore. As the farmer’s seed that fell on shallow soil, they had dull looks on their faces. Many weren’t even paying attention. I could see Mary standing amongst the converts, chatting with a woman in this group. A stream of people were hiking away now, though most of the crowd remained, wondering what the miracle-worker would say next. While everyone waited, Jesus remained perfectly still, his eyes shut and expression tranquil as if he had fallen asleep.

“Jesus!” Peter shook him gently. “This is no time for a nap!”

“I’m not sleeping,” he said from the corner of his mouth. “I’m listening! When will you learn?

“But Jesus,” John pointed excitedly, “they’re drifting away. Those are simple people out there. They don’t understand!”

“Humph!” grumbled his brother. “I don’t understand. We’re simple too.”

“John’s right.” Andrew scratched his beard. “You’re losing your audience…. The kingdom of heaven is like yeast—what did that mean?”

“Listen with your heart,” Jesus answered flatly, “not your mind.”

“How’s that possible?” Judas grinned foolishly. “The heart has no brain.”

“You’re taking it literally,” Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Jesus is using stories that mean something else. The prophets used them to teach the children of Israel, but Jesus stories are brand new!”

“That’s right.” I gave Judas a wry look. “They’re parables. He knows that.”

“Have some respect!” Simon scowled.

“Parables?” Philip made a face. “What are parables?… What does literally mean?”

“Master,” Thomas called from the rear of the boat, “just speak plainly, like you did before! Your sermon was easy to understand.”

“Shut up—all of you!” Jesus hissed, raising his hands.

His eyes glowing with revelation or annoyance, he looked once more out at the crowd.

“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field,” he continued, raising a finger. “…. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.” “The kingdom of heaven is also like a merchant looking for fine pearls,” he said, raising a second finger. “When he found pearls of great price, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.” “Consider this,” he said, raising a third fingers. “The kingdom of heaven is also like a net that let down into the lake to catch fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away.  This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the blazing furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

“Now that made sense!” mumbled James.

“Yes,” Bartholomew murmured, “even the fishermen understood that.”

“He said shut up!” Peter whispered shrilly.

“All right,” Jesus said forbearingly, raising a fourth digit, “consider this…. Every teacher of the law who has become a disciple in the kingdom of heaven is like the owner of a house who brings out of his storeroom’s new treasures as well as old.”

The multitude stirred. There was a mixture of sighs, groans, and coughs.

“Have you understood all these things?” Jesus stopped to ask the crowd.

There were only a smattering of yes’s, many nodding heads, but also a great many blank looks.

“Do you really?” he asked again.

Again there was an effort to show approval. I asked myself that moment, “Was this just a test he was gave the multitude?” If so, they had, as a group, failed it miserably. Once more, though, I’m thinking like an average mortal. Like God, Jesus was inscrutable. He had proven it that hour. Later, though it would still be an enigmatic answer, he would explain why he gave the multitude parables. As he stood there at the mast studying the crowd, questions rang out but not from ordinary citizens.

At first, as the first voice erupted from a nearby group of idlers, the question sounded sensible enough, but Jesus saw right through him. “Teacher,” the man said, “I will follow you wherever you go, but first let me go and bury my father.”

Shielding his eyes from the setting sun, Jesus replied, “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead.”

Stepping forward into plain sight, a young Pharisee, the man who pretended to be a supplicant, said mockingly, “Teacher, give us a sign from you.”

“Yes,” a second man, likely a scribe, echoed his sentiment, “show us a miracle, rabbi. Make it rain. Strike yonder tree with a bolt of lightning. Surely, after feeding a multitude you can do that!”

Enigmatically again, Jesus replied, “Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.”

“By whose authority do you perform your sorcery?” A graybeard thrust himself forward haughtily. “God or Beelzebub?”

Lurching forward angrily, causing the boat to rock to and fro, Jesus pointed an accusing finger at the last speaker: “A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign! But none will be given it except the sign of the prophet Jonah.  For as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of a huge fish, so the Son of Man will be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.  The men of Nineveh will stand up at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and now something greater than Jonah is here.  The Queen of the South will rise at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for she came from the ends of the earth to listen to Solomon’s wisdom, and now something greater than Solomon is here.

“When an impure spirit comes out of a person, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that person is worse than the first. That is how it will be with this wicked generation.”

Almost submerged by his overall rhetoric was the first admittance to citizens at large that he was the Messiah and, more ominously, an allusion to his own death and resurrection.

“Row us away from here!” Jesus commanded his disciples.

Needing no coaxing, we manned the oars, rowing continuously, with the expectation that Jesus would tell us when to stop. During our efforts, Jesus fell asleep—an amazing feat considering the sudden swell rising on the lake. Pausing in our rowing then bringing in the oars, we looked at Jesus in dismay and disbelief. Even the old, infirmed, and weary Bartholomew couldn’t sleep in such a storm. As our self-delegated leader, Peter took it upon himself to awaken Jesus. “Lord, save us!” he cried. “We’re going to drown!”

Awakening from sound sleep, one eye still shut, Jesus scolded us for being cowards. “You of little faith,” he chided irritably, “why are you so afraid?”

Then standing back up, he rebuked the winds and waves with a flurry of his hands words. “Be silent!” was all he said, and just as suddenly the Lake of Gennesaret was like a sea of glass, the sky was clear again, and there wasn’t a hint of breeze.

Looking around at us, Peter asked the question in everyone’s mind: “Who is this man who commands the wind and waves? By two words, ‘Be silent,’ they’re still!”

“He’s Jesus of Nazareth,” announced James.

“He’s our brother,” I added, looking around proudly at the group.

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