Appetizers

Last month, I spoke of my mom’s Tomato Economy.[1] How through my mom’s gardening skills, she has developed a wonderful community. In her giving, her neighbors have become friends and a tight knit community has developed. I think that’s what Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000 shows us. But today’s reading is not that reading. That was the appetizers.

Today’s reading is the feeding of the 4,000. It’s another feeding story, but later on in Jesus’ ministry. Things have changed since Jesus fed the 5,000. He walked on water. He has healed the sick, countered kosher law saying that it’s not what goes into the mouth but what comes out that defiles. Most importantly, he met a woman. A Canaanite woman. A woman of another race and faith.

“Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” She cried. Jesus ignored her. Maybe he was tired. He’d just healed all these people. And walking on water is quite exhausting I would imagine. It’s why so few of us do it. But this woman kept shouting. The disciples were getting annoyed and asked Jesus to send her away.

Jesus turned to her and said, “I came for the lost people of the Jewish faith. It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”

Now calling someone a dog is not a good thing even back then. Jesus was saying, Jews only. No gentiles allowed. Yet the woman persisted and pleaded her case saying, “Even dogs get table scraps.”

Jesus responded, “Great is your faith! Let it be done as you wish!” And then Jesus starts spending a lot of time with Gentiles, people not of his race, faith, or nationality.

I remember when my grandfather drove me around our small town and pointed out where the various groups lived. “Here’s where the Pollacks live. And over here are the EYE-talians. Over there, by the railroad tracks are the negros and the Irish.” I was under 10, but I got the message: Stay with your own kind. We’ll make allowances if they’re Catholic, but that’s it.

Yet God has continually opened me up to new things. I wouldn’t eat anything unless it was a hotdog or hamburger until I met my friend Mauricio, or Mao for short. Mao came from Colombia in 8th Grade, and we were best friends in high school. He was shocked when I wouldn’t go with him to Taco Bell. “I don’t eat tacos.” I said. “Why?” he asked. “They’re like the hamburgers of Mexico.” I tried it, I loved it.

College opened my eyes to so many stories of people who are so different than me. And church has even more. The global story of Christianity is amazing.

It is tradition at Lancaster Theological Seminary to travel as a seminary class to another country. There we get to experience how Christianity is lived in another context. My class went to Egypt in 2009. I remember the first time I saw the pyramids as our plane was landing. It was an amazing trip.

We had a free night, and a few of us decided to leave our hotel room and explore the streets of Cairo. We wanted to meet some locals. We were told to keep on the main thoroughfare, as those would be more tourist friendly. The side-streets were their own neighborhoods and had a sort of neighborhood watch set up and might not be as friendly. With that in mind, we set off. I was with my two buddies Jim and Steve and a few others.

We passed cafes of men smoking hookahs and playing checkers and chess. They talked so loudly and laughed and were so animated. We took in the sights and smells. Then Jim saw a bakery down one of the side alleys. “Let’s go!” he said, and he was off down a forbidden side-street.

Now Jim is a square-jawed, tall, blue-eyed American who has muscles on his muscles. He walked confidently down the side street while the rest of us grouped together. I was very nervous. I about fell over when a group of young men, who were standing in a circle called out, “Hey! Hey, Americans!”

I was terrified. Jim, on the other hand, gave a big wave and walked right over to them. “How are you? Good evening!” he said.

The young men asked, “Do you speak Arabic?” No, Jim answered. “Is my English good?”
“Better than my Arabic,” Jim replied. The group laughed. Jim did too. The rest of us were silent.
“Do you like Egypt? Is it good?” the youth asked.
“Oh yes,” Jim replied. “We love it here. We saw your bakery and wanted to get some food.”
“Bakery is very good,” The youth replied. “Egypt is very good. It is because everyone is Muslim. We friendly. We take care of you! Come on over!”

They led us to the bakery and there was a great fuss and lots of hugs. Our tight little group began to loosen up, especially when the baklava arrived. We had a feast right there in the street. We talked, trying our best to communicate in limited English and no Arabic. They asked us if we were from New York City or Los Angeles.  We said we were closer to NYC, as it was too confusing to describe the concept of Pennsylvania to them. We told them how we’re Christians and will be pastors and they cheered. “It is good to follow God. We pray for you. We hope you find Egypt as friendly as this street. Maybe we come visit you!”

When Jesus feeds the four thousand, he’s doing an old trick in a new setting. Once again, the disciples are unprepared for the party. “Where are we to get enough bread?” Jesus asks, “How many loaves?” I can’t help but imagine Jesus rolling his eyes, like “Haven’t we already been through this?”

Seven loaves and a few fish. Now 7 is an interesting number. In Jewish numerology, seven is very lucky as it represents the Sabbath, seven days of the week; it means complete.[2] Early Christian theologians thought the number seven also signifies the seven deacons of Acts 6 who were appointed to minister to the Gentiles. And the four thousand represented the four winds or the four points of the compass, pointing to the nations of the wider world.[3]

The children may be fed first, but the others are now invited to the party. The Tomato Economy is not just for your immediate neighbors, it’s for all people. All who can seek unity within our diversity. All who can attempt to see God in one another, despite the various labels we put on ourselves and others.

All of them ate and were filled, and they had seven baskets full. There’s that number again. Seven. Lucky. Complete.

Theologian Miroslav Volf writes, “Churches, the presumed agents of reconciliation, are at best impotent and at worst accomplices in the strife of human relations.”[4] Religion can easily get exclusive. We love to exclude, it’s how we know we’re us because we’re not them. There is a sickness in Christianity and it’s called Christian Triumphalism. It means that we win, everyone else loses. We’re going to heaven, everyone else is going to hell. It means we own God, and everyone else can play our game or go home.

Yet Jesus isn’t playing that game. He refuses to. He knows better. He has changed his heart and was able to move people, both Jew and Gentile, from selfishness to generosity. The strongest words he has are for those in his day and age who knew who was in and who was out. Yet Jesus feeds those who were out. He brings them in. Today’s reading is a sign of the big feast that is to come! The great Messianic Banquet at the end of the age where everyone gathers around the Lord’s table. This feast that will change the course of his ministry and of human history.

We are here because the Gentiles were welcomed in. Paul leads the early church to the acceptance of those who were once “out.” And that has made all the difference.

My time in Egypt and the experience in that alley helped me not be so fearful. When Toledo was designated as a refugee resettlement area, I went to meet the Syrian refugees, most of whom were Muslim. I remembered the words from the Egyptian street in 2009, “One day, maybe we will visit you.” And here they are. I could have been fearful and remained in my safe bubble, bunched up with those like me. But nothing beats fear like a face. So we met, and my Sylvania church gathered personal items like soap, shampoo, and toothpaste. But that was charity. More had to be done because people’s fear levels kept rising.

I received a call from a UCC Pastor in North Jackson, Ohio. We developed a three-day meet-and-greet for our youth groups and the refugees. We played with their children in the park. We spoke to them. It was Ramadan, so they couldn’t eat with us, so we asked if we could have dinner together. We all gathered in our church kitchen, and we heard couples bickering. They were arguing over the ingredients and how much to put in. I don’t speak Arabic but that sort of bickering is universal. Since they couldn’t eat until sundown at almost 9 p.m., we Christians became the taste testers. “More salt?” they’d ask.

There was not a cookbook in sight. These were meals made from scratch and known by heart. When I saw how much food there would be, I called and invited more people. We had so much left over. We ate, and laughed, and we all felt complete. No fear, just food and friends.

I think that’s what God intends for us around the table. More laughter, less fear. Maybe a touch more salt, for aren’t we called to be salt to the world? We must be willing to act as Christ did; to leave behind ego-boosting and power-maintaining worldviews that put us on top and everyone else below us. To see that the Tomato Economy is not just our neighborhood, but global. It is in Toledo. It’s in the streets of Cairo. It is here, right here among us in Medina, and the Canaanites are invited. Don’t settle for appetizers when there’s a bigger and better feast!

God wants us to live a little more openly with one another. We are often stingy and withhold what we have or are only willing to share within our tribe. It’s fine if you feed yours first, yet the real miracle is that Christ was able to get people to share with one another across so many labels that divide us. Instead of sending people away, Jesus uses his carpentry skills and builds a bigger table. Jesus is still doing it to this day. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Jim, Steve, and Luke on the Red Sea. Egypt 2009.

Works Cited

[1] See https://www.uccmedina.org/sermons/tomato/

[2] http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/judaism-numbers/

[3] Douglas R.A. Hare, Interpretation Matthew. Page 181.

[4] Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace, page 36.

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