Loaves, Boats, and Meatloaf
Last fall I made a meatloaf. It was a big four-pounder stuffed with a Tillamook cheddar tunnel, just like my husband’s grandma taught me. Then I peeled and boiled a big bag of potatoes for a pot of mash big enough to be embarrassing. The amount of butter alone put movie-theater popcorn to shame. It was a lot of food, but my son was bringing two friends for dinner, and I wanted them well-fed. They are all young men in their early twenties, and while I wanted them to have full bellies, I really wanted them to remember the comfort of a good family meal. One of those young men had recently lost his dad, and the other had parents who were living out of state for an extended period. They needed a meal, and they needed a moment.
I gave them something to eat.
Two weeks ago, our church community studied the miracle of Jesus feeding thousands of people with a bit of bread and fish. Before the loaves are multiplied, the disciples look at the crowd and tell Jesus to just send them away. Instead, Jesus answers, “You give them something to eat.” They had five loaves, two fish, and every reason to believe the math was against them. Then, Jesus blesses and breaks the bread and sets it in their hands to carry to the crowd.
This past week, we moved straight from that hillside meal to the boat and a raging storm on the Sea of Galilee. It seems like a separate story, but when Mark tells about that same night, he locks the two events together. Mark says that after Jesus walks across the water and the wind settles, the disciples were astounded because “...they did not understand about the loaves; their hearts were hardened.” What does a stormy sea have to do with the feeding of a crowd?
Matthew, though, layers in Peter’s story. Same night, same storm. Seeing Jesus standing on the waves, Peter says, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you.” Jesus does, so Peter goes right over the side and walks on the water with Jesus. By the time Peter’s fear creeps in, Jesus is already there with a loving hand. He asks Peter, “Why did you doubt?” I have always heard that as a question about what happened on the water, but Mark makes me wonder if we are all still learning about the bread and fish. “You give them something to eat” was never an expectation that they manufacture a miracle. It was an invitation to put their hands and feet into what Christ was already doing. And maybe that’s part of what Peter learns when he steps out of the boat.
A meatloaf may seem unrelated to walking on water or feeding thousands of people with almost nothing. After all, I was feeding a few young men with ample vittles, but something other than physical hunger was being fed in them as they stood over that huge vat of mashed potatoes with their spoons in hand. For one evening, Todd and I were allowed to stand in a moment that was not ours to fix forever. We just put our hands into it and trusted that God was doing something we could not fully see. Maybe that is enough to help me understand the loaves a little better. God does what only God can do, and then, remarkably, places some part of that work into ordinary human hands. We can even trust Christ to create miracles from our meatloaves.
