Jesus said, "Have the people sit down." There was plenty of grass in that place, and they sat down (about five thousand men were there). Jesus then took the loaves, gave thanks, and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish.
John 6:10-11
"The Feeding of the Five Thousand" is recorded in all four Gospel accounts. That distinction is only shared with the Resurrection. The birth of Jesus, the various miraculous healings, and bringing people back to life don't even get full coverage. That shows just how transformative this event was for the Disciples and the crowd. As a logistical person, I am fascinated by the distribution logistics and the communication of the miracle to what scholars tabulate to be nearly 20,000 people total. And, oddly, I'm also slightly curious about the multiple mentions of plentiful "green" grass.
Our family just recently visited Universal Studios for three straight days over the fall break. Trips like that are a bit of a mixed bag for me. I am a very reluctant amusement park visitor because of the crowds. Being gluten and dairy intolerant, I have to bring tons of snacks with me to stay nourished while my family munches on churros, ice cream, and pretzels all day. Managing lines, hunger, potty breaks and sunscreen is a constant; but, alas, I go because the family joy and memories created are 1,000 percent worth it.
I approach this story with that lens of experience. If only 5,000 men were fed, that means there were also moms and kids there too. This wasn't an amusement park with a brand new attraction; however, a healer with a revolutionary kingdom message was on the move, and the crowd was too. I imagine there was serious consideration of a mobile urgent care aspect of many people on foot, desperately seeking aid from Jesus – as well as the excitement bursting within a people anticipating relief from Roman occupation – having exhausting religious expectations, seeing a glimmer of hope in Jesus.
And Jesus had a plan.
Sit down on plentiful green grass and be fed – in abundance.
According to the other Gospel accounts, it was the disciples who laboriously handed out food to up to 200 – 400 groups of 50 -100 people. It didn't just "poof" into their laps. That means each disciple met with roughly 20-35 groups. Since the Gospels tell us that people knew about the miracle that had happened (enough that they would then force His Kingship), there had to be conversations and testimonies whipping through the crowd as well. Did everyone know what had happened? Was this just a bread distribution or more a chance for the Disciples to share their witness to each and every group they served?
I go back to the mindset of the mother of that boy in the crowd. If it were my family, I was likely the one to pack the meal for my son. Like sacrificing my own gluten free bread to my hungry son at the 90 minute waiting mark in our never-ending line for a Universal ride; would I have also handed it over to the others in the queue? My back and feet aching from standing in tight winding rows; would I welcome the invitation to sit down on long, cozy benches with back rests? (This is my first century "grass" equivalent). Yes please. Would I have understood what was happening after my contribution was given back to me again and again until I had to voice that I was full and wanted nothing more?
My reflection on this historical event and my prayer for us this week as we ponder the miracle is one of gratitude and assurance. There is a plan. It may not always mean my comfort, and it might ask for my contribution to get things rolling. I may not even know a miracle is taking place, but God's goodness will find me in tough places – even crowds. There was a moment at the park when my family and I were prepared to enter a line with an estimated three hour wait. I'd brought provisions, and everyone had used the restroom. As we walked up to the back of the line, a woman pulled us aside and said, "follow me." (No joke,) Five minutes later we arrived at the ride and hopped on. Our whole family was overwhelmed with emotion. I don't know why it happened, and I for sure don't know what sparked her particular compassion; but I know that my only response can be of gratitude. God's goodness is personal, it's relational, it's redemptive and it's compassionate. May we all know His constant goodness this week. Amen.
by Kris Thulson
