Dear Martha,
Hope all is good with you
and Mary and all the gang at Bethany. I was very concerned to hear that Lazarus
has been poorly (someone told me it was sleeping sickness?) Hope he’s better
soon. Anyway, I wanted to tell you about this amazing thing that happened to me
and the other girls when we were out with the Galilee posse for a walk.
We came across a large
crowd, who were milling about, trying to get near to the miracleman. I’ve heard
that you might know him, and that he’s been around your gaff in recent weeks.
Or is it that he’s a friend of Lazarus? Either way, you almost certainly know
the man of whom I speak.
It seems everyone was so enthralled
by the teachings of this Jesus that they drifted, as crowds do, to that
hillside out of town and listened to him all day.
When I heard his voice, I
realised it was full of authority and certainty, unlike any other Rabbi I’ve
ever had to endure. His words were packed with life and hope. Hardly anyone
noticed we’d all missed lunch until late into the afternoon. Jesus was so
interesting to listen to, that no-one tore themselves away to go to the local
all-day convenience store and buy a pastie or even a wineskin of pop.
But tummies started to
rumble (the tummy of the burly bloke a few seats in front of us rumbled so
loudly we could hardly hear what Jesus was saying), so dinner was becoming rather
more urgent.
Up jumped some sweet little
lad with a handful of cheap breadsticks and a bit of sardine flavouring, and offered
it to Jesus for him to share out among the vast crowd. How foolish! I don’t
know what he thought Jesus could conjure out of that, but it was a meagre lunch
for the lad, let alone a grown man. Hopeless.
But Jesus accepted the
boy’s gift, blessed it with a simple prayer and broke it up for the disciples
to hand round! It was quite obvious that this pathetic amount of food would
never be enough. It might just have kept body and soul together for the boy
until he got home, but it was of the size best described as ‘a mere morsel’.
The burly bloke was particularly unimpressed. Anyway, if we hadn’t been so
hungry, we would have dismissed the boy as a joke.
By this time, the crowd
was enormous: perhaps ten thousand people, including all us women and children.
My friend Julia said she thought there was twenty thousand, but you know how
much she exaggerates. I’ve told her a million times about that…
We were invited to sit in
groups (about 100 men in each group, plus all the women and children) and there
were perhaps fifty groups, which my adding-up skill tells me there were 5000
men, which makes Julia’s estimate a bit on the strong side. But Jesus knew what
he was doing, except he didn’t divide up the men from the women, or follow any
of the other food laws – you know, washing and all that.
Anyway, we were chatting
while the disciples were busy with the people at the front.
We knew we could always
go home via Bar-Donald’s for a demi-ephah
of fries and a quarter-bushel of Seven-Up. Or go to that Stuffed Crust Hut on the Piazza for a Margaret ‘n’ Peter (they
should try to shorten that name, methinks) or a How/Why ‘Un. Or Kidron Fried Chicken for a hot wing or
three. Some other people were preferring the idea of Boaz’s Kin Robin’s for some ice cream.
But one of the disciples
(the one called Simon – or is it Peter? They all look the same to me) came over
to our group of fifty. We could see the food he had, and somehow there was
enough for everyone in the front row, and there were about ten blokes and a
similar number of women and children in each row. The food seemed to stretch
and Simon managed to give lunch to everyone in the second row as well, even the
big burly bloke (he’d pushed forward in all the kerfuffle), who took an
extra-large portion. Greedy guzzler! We could see that there would never be
enough by the time Peter reached us in the back row. But somehow, we all got a
big handful of bread and enough fish to make it a very pleasant snack indeed.
More than a snack, actually.
How much nicer it would
have been with a dollop of mayo or wholegrain mustard – fig chutney, perhaps –
or just a grinding of black pepper! Perhaps with a few salady bits… But it was
a generous meal, all the same.
We ate the food and
enjoyed it. Julia wondered if there was any more going, and amazingly, there
were seconds! She stuffed her face (actually, we all had a little more), but
despite this there seemed to be lots left over.
The Greedy Guzzler
wandered by, vacuuming up our leftovers, which was unpleasant to watch, as you
can imagine.
If it had been you, Martha,
you’d have prepared a vast buffet for everyone. You’d wave the young lad away,
perhaps with a disdainful sneer. There was no chance that his puny dinner
would... and yet, somehow, Jesus had fed all these people.
Jesus is even more
amazing than we thought. He seems to have the grace to accept the smallest gift
given with a generous heart - and bless it, multiply it and make it incredibly
effective.
My God, he’s wonderful!
That’s all for now. Be
great to see you soon, especially for one of your fancy dinners (we know you
can always be relied upon to make a well-prepared slap-up feed!)
Squeezy hugs from your
BFF,
PS
Have you noticed that Mary seems to have that annoying faraway look in her eyes
even more often these days? Tell her to snap out of it!
5000 people benefit from a major culinary miracle
What inspired the
boy with the meagre packed lunch
to give it to
Jesus? What did he imagine might happen?
Why didn’t Jesus
send the enormous and hungry crowd away
to get their own
dinner?
How this miracle
echoed in the way Jesus turned the water into wine?
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