Sunday Homily, August 3, 2014, 18th Ordinary Time, A
Readings: Terrific readings today–
Isaiah 55, 1-3, Come, drink wine and milk.
Psalm 145, The hand of the Lord feeds us; he answers all our needs. Also, That Line, The Lord is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love, Stanza 2.
Romans 8, 35, 37-39, What will separate us from the love of God?
Matthew 14, 13-21, The feeding of the multitude.
Observations on the readings:
1. Isaiah 55: 3 beautiful invitations, come, come, come, come–4 times. This is the very last chapter of Isaiah 2 trying to encourage the Israelites in the Babylonian period, ca. 550 B.C.
2. Psalm 145 & Romans 8. That special line again, The Lord is gracious & merciful, does not get angry and is abounding in love.
Paul is winding up Romans and is almost poetic, claiming that even cosmic events cannot separate us from God’s love.
3. Feeding the 10 thousand. This story is repeated in all 4 gospel stories. In fact, it is told 6 times.
I have suggested for years that the real miracle here is that Jesus created enough trust and conviviality in the group that they shared the food that they would have most probably carried with them when they set out to listen to this man. They knew there were no fast food places along the road.
I saw this in East Africa. People did not leave home without provisions stashed away.
I saw this trust and conviviality along the way in Iowa a week ago and would like to talk about it during the homily.
It is not the destination, Folks. It is the journey.
For over 40 years I have talked about how I see this story of the feeding of the multitude. That the real miracle is that Jesus enabled these country people to trust each other enough to share their hidden stashes. I really saw this in East Africa.
In light of my recent experience in Iowa, I would like to take a different slant this time. In particular, I would suggest these folks were on a journey in their life, stopped to hear this man, and were greatly touched. They were reminded that God is gracious and merciful, never gets angry, and is abounding in love.
Three little vignettes from Iowa.
Probably on the third day of Ragbrai (Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride across Iowa), I am riding along and see a sign for Iowa Conservation Assoc. I stop because I know these people give out great bananas. There are probably 100 people at the concession and more than 100 across the highway at another concession.
I am eating a banana when suddenly on my side I hear somebody playing Taps. I think it is a pretty girl I have seen other years playing a trumpet. Instead it is a guy. His buddy has an American flag. Both of them could be my age.
At one point he starts playing the National Anthem. The response was profound and electric. Everybody stopped dead. We all faced the man and the flag. I was moved actually to tears, even remembering my years in East Africa when I was consoled just to see the flag blowing in front of the local American Embassy.
After he finished and everybody returned to what they were doing, I crossed to the area where the two guys were and in a choking voice I told him how much I appreciated what he did. He hardly even spoke a word. Just gave me a hug. A beautiful slice of Americana at a concession on the side of a road in Iowa.
Later that same day, I am riding along again when I hear from the edge of the road at a concession, pop, pop, pop. It is the sound of the Amish pie & ice cream concession. Yippee. I had been looking for them. We are in beautiful Amish country, especially during the last two days.
The concession is on the right side of the highway and I am on the left. It was too dangerous to stop with so many bikers, so I missed them that third day. However, the last four days I stopped every day. I even got to know their names and they would say when they saw me, “Here he is again.” Their rhubarb-strawberry pie, their blueberry pie, and their churned on the spot vanilla ice cream were from another planet. Another experience of consoling Americana on the edge of the road.
Finally, there was the Marines’ chin-up bar. We had pass through towns and overnight towns. In the overnight town there was always a big expo with vendors of all types, lots of food, and the Marines’ chin-up bar.
I would see a cheering crowd and an amazing number of people who would step up and do pull-ups. I saw a young maybe Philippino do 34 pull-ups. Everybody was cheering him on, counting each pull-up.
For me the most touching was a young girl, maybe 7 years old, shy and maybe Hispanic with olive skin and pretty black hair in a pony tail. I don’t think she and her family were bikers, maybe residents. I watched that little girl do 14 pull-ups. I went over and told her what a marvel she was and that I could hardly do 1 pull-up. Another touching slice of Americana right there in a little town in northern Iowa.
As much as I was moved by the hospitality of the people who hosted us in the overnight towns, I was even more appreciative of the slices of Americana I witnessed all along the ride. I was constantly being shown that the Lord is gracious and merciful, never gets angry, and is abounding in love.
It is not just the destination, Folks. It is the ride.
How is your ride?
