“So that no man has reason to boast.”

     We’re at table, and breakfast is concluded. I open the page to Matthew’s Gospel, Chapter 14:13-22. This is where we left off yesterday, and our anticipation of pondering yet another chunk of the first Gospel is heightened not because we didn’t know what was in the next few verses and were eager to find out. No, we had traveled these pages many times before—so many times we can’t remember the number. For good reason, the familiarity had not made another “routine” reading jaded with an attitude of “oh well, here it is again.” The running commentary by N. T. Wright has been captivating our hearts ever since we started this venture on January 1. How many times at the beginning of each year have we begun the awesome adventure and task of reading through the entire Bible—sometimes more than once in a year’s time. The adventure has always given us a fresh understanding of the amazing account of The Great Recue by the Great Rescuer whose name is whispered in all 39 books leading to the rescue. Then, his name is shouted from the roof tops in the remaining 27 books. This year, however, we chose (were led?) to read less but read deeply. We started with the Gospel of Matthew, the beginning of the New Covenant, and read slowly, pondering the text with the commentator’s skilled approach to bring an understanding of how the first century reader/hearer would have processed the documents. Incredible scholarship wrapped with a knowledge of koine Greek expounds the text in a fashion that more than holds one’s attention. Couple the scholarship and understanding of the common (not classical) Greek  language of the first century with a pastoral compassion to make the texts accessible to Everyone and one is drawn into a deep unavoidable life changing experience.

     Back to Chapter 14. Jesus is told of the brutal death of his cousin and colleague, John the Baptizer. The Forerunner is finally silenced by Herod-Antipas, the puppet “King” of Israel. Jesus immediately goes into the wilderness “to pray,” it says, but perhaps, even to mourn. The crowds who follow this young Rabbi find out where he is and encroach upon his solitude. His grief turns not into irritation or rebuke toward the crowd for interrupting his much needed time alone.  It turns, however, into compassion for those seeking him. The disciples of Jesus suggest that he send the crowds away so they can get something to eat in the nearby villages. Jesus suggests that the disciples feed the crowd. We know the rest of the story, of course.

     The disciples come up with a good idea ,with a hope to solve the dilemma; yet, Jesus throws a bigger challenge back to his disciples by telling them to feed the crowd with what they have on hand. Five loaves and two fish? “Master, what is this amongst so many?” They bring what they have to offer—inadequate, and certainly with no real possibility. Then, the Master takes the little and uses the measly offering to bring help and compassion to over 5,000 men plus the women and children!

     A vocation with purpose and focus descends upon the disciples and descends upon the two sitting at the breakfast table. How can we do works like the Master? We have some good and even compassionate ideas, but we have so little to offer, so little that it really would have no effect. Yet, the Master suggests that we offer it and allow him to transform it into more than we could ever imagine.

     At that moment, at the breakfast table, the weekly garbage collection begins on our street. We hear the beeping of the garbage truck as it backs down our one-way street. My wife and I look at each other as we recognize the familiar, weekly sound. Without uttering a word, we have the same question on our minds. “Will Norm the driver be by himself, again, this week? He only has an assistant when a holiday falls during the work week and two routes have to be done in one day to make up for the "day off." The temperature is in the single digits. The man does this for a living. He’s bundled up to meet the demands of extreme temperatures. Why do we even care? It’s his job. But, we know Norm, at least we have a small insight into his life. We give him Christmas and New Year gifts in appreciation for his faithful work. And, that’s not all. I even go out on many occasions to help throw the bags into the truck or assist if the pile of boxes is more than usual. He knows we care about him. Yet, tears stream down our faces as we wonder what more we can do as we see his hunched over appearance emerge from the truck cab and makes its way to the two cans on the curb. We stand at the window hoping he’ll look up so he can see our wave of greeting. But, he’s not used to turning his face to any house as he tries to meet the deadlines of his job. But, “Wait Norm?!” He climbs back into his truck and pulls away to continue his journey. We wave knowing that he won’t see us.

     We go back to read the next chunk of text with its probing commentary. Our thoughts and our hearts are turning, We don’t have to say to each other that next week’s “pickup” will be different. It may be a small offering (only 5 loaves and 2 fish), but when Norm receives it our faith prompts us to believe that what we thought was impossible will exceed all possibilities, especially when we are not the ones giving. Our commitment is stronger not because of our own efforts, but because of His efforts working through us. “So that no man has reason to boast.”