worship this Sunday…

Just a few weeks ago, I had the opportunity of a lifetime to visit the ruins of the Roman city of Pompeii. I knew that Pompeii had been destroyed by a volcanic eruption from Mount Vesuvius almost 2000 years ago, and I’d heard numerous stories of the excavations of Pompeii. I was excited that I was going see it. But I was totally unprepared for what I was about to experience. I was stunned by the scale of the ruined city. The city of Pompeii was not just a few stones stacked on top of each other for me to walk around. It was actually the full city, in its entirety. As we wandered its streets, we visited shops, homes, businesses, temples, and the marketplace. I have never before in my life wandered inside the ruins of something to this scale. The experience had a powerful effect on all of us that day. I think much of the power of that experience came from us being able to view all of this in its original context. We experienced it in a completely new way rather than how we usually did. Usually we saw history in a book or a museum, totally abstracted. Having the full context is what gave all of this its rich meaning. 

Context matters. It matters in history, art, conversation, relationships, and certainly it matters with Scripture. Far too often we engage with Scripture as small isolated stories or aphorisms rather than hearing or experiencing them in their full context. Stories can easily get separated from their location and from the larger context of what happened before the story unfolds — which often means we really don't understand what we are reading.

I think our passage for this week is a perfect example of this. It tells the story from the gospel of Matthew of the feeding of the five thousand. Many of us have heard the stories of the feeding of five thousand and learned how from just a few pieces of bread and fish Jesus miraculously created enough food for all of those who were hungry. But how often do we think about what happened before this happened?

You see, what happened before is one of the most emotionally impacting passages I think in all of Scripture. Jesus has just learned that his cousin, John the Baptist, has been brutally murdered by King Herod. And it is out of this shock and grief that Jesus tries to get some time away before the people can find him again. And when they do find him, he learns that they have not brought enough food to feed themselves. Imagine his frustration at this realization. Not only would he have no more time to himself, but already the people needed him to feed them.

This does not change what he will do, which is of course to feed all of those who are gathered there, but I think it does give us very real insight into the heart of God. Even in the depths of his sorrow, Jesus gives and provides. God does not simply provide and give to us when he is full and happy and healthy, but Jesus gives even as he has his own needs. This may not be something that we can always do because of our own human limitations, but I think it does stand as a powerful reminder that God always always always chooses to love and care for others — even in the hardest of times. And maybe this is a context then that we need to remember in our relationship with God. This is who God is. God does not love the world, or care for us, only when it is convenient.

I pray that we all remind ourselves of this this week, and whenever possible, through the grace of God that shares that love with all those around us!

 See you on Sunday!
-Brent

Matthew 14: 13-21

Holiday Inn kitchen, the day I am born:
My father is frying fish for a party of seventeen
when the call comes from the hospital. He stays
until the batter is crispy, cold salads scooped
on platters, rye bread buttered.

Dad never told me this story.
He told my boyfriend, one short order cook to another.
Mom doesn’t know why Dad was late
for her screams and sweat on the hospital bed.

Once, when she was angry with him, she told me:
When your father finally got there, the nurse had to tell
him to get upstairs, “Your wife is having that baby now.”

I hope that when Dad first held me,
it was with haddock-scented hands, apron
over his black pants still sprinkled with flour,
forehead oily from standing over the deep fryer,
telling the fish to hurry hurry.