This story is a Sunday school classic, with memorable numbers (two, five, twelve, five thousand) and broadly drawn characters, easily illustrated on a felt board or in a storybook Bible. As a child I learned from this story that Jesus cares for us, that we should be kind to our neighbors, and that we shouldn’t get cranky in our faith, like the disciples.
Now, when I try to dig deeper, I’m more interested in the crowd. We read that Jesus “had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd”, and I think, yes, here are my people. Perhaps they showed up for something new, for answers, or for healing. Maybe they didn’t know why they showed up. And instead of being told what Jesus said to them, we are given a detailed description of how their most basic need was met in a miraculous way. “And all ate and were filled.” No word on Jesus’ sermon. Why is it that, instead of reading a transcript of Jesus’ teaching, we are instead provided with a detailed account of dinner? Shouldn’t the focus be reversed? Wouldn’t that make more sense?
This is part of my struggle during Lent. When I try and expand my two-dimensional, felt board understanding, I find that my questions are rarely given direct answers. Instead of a concise explanation of what is going on, I am provided with a sprawling, messy story that seems to leave out a lot of important information. Instead of clear teaching, I am given bread and wine. I’m confused and frustrated, and not entirely sure why I am here. To that end, it seems important to acknowledge that maybe teaching and understanding aren’t prerequisites for being fed.
— Tim Blok
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