My Last Meal? Part 2

Hello. Do you remember me? The little boy? Remember, I provided the loaves and fishes that Jesus used to feed a multitude. Surely, you remember, right?

The last you heard from me was when Jesus asked me why I hadn’t eaten, and I replied that it didn’t matter, since anyway, I would be killed when I got home! Do you remember that?

Yes, I was the boy who offered his loaves and fishes to Jesus, and then watched as he multiplied them to feed a crowd of thousands. It was truly amazing! But, as you recall, the loaves and fishes weren’t really mine to give: they’d been bought at the market to help feed my family, and had been paid for with the products of their hard work. Remember?

Jesus Feeds the 5,000

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Anyway, just so you know, I wasn’t killed when I got home.

And, if you are wondering, I did return home with leftovers from the miracle feeding (the disciples gathered twelve basketsful). I had hoped that these leftovers would buy me a little grace from my mother.

But no, sorry to say, they did not. The leftovers bought me no mercy. All I got were questions and reprimands. She refused to even serve the leftovers to our family, claiming that they were “tainted products of sorcery.” She went on:

“How could he just magically create more food? There must have been some trickery!”

“Did anyone wash their hands before handling the food?”

“He didn’t feed Gentiles or Samaritans, did he? Surely, he made them sit apart? And surely, he knew to serve them last of all. They’re unclean, you know!”

“Why wasn’t a rabbi present to offer a blessing?”

“Who were those people that he healed? Weren’t they just a rabble?”

“This Jesus is upsetting the order of things. Our rabbis do not approve of him. They say that he’s a troublemaker. He’s dangerous. People who follow him are being turned out from their synagogues. They’re losing their businesses.”

“You are not to speak of him again! Ever!”

There was more. The questions and reprimands went on and on. And to my surprise, I discovered that, while I had never before heard of Jesus, my parents certainly had. I quickly understood that, without any doubt, they disapproved of him. Forget the miracles of healing and feeding (miracles that I was amazed to witness), Jesus was a rebel who did not conform to the tenets of our faith. Rabbis, Pharisees, scribes and other religious leaders warned about Jesus. And my parents listened to them, repeating their criticisms.

In your time, you’d say that I was in the doghouse! Such an odd expression. I wonder where that came from? Anyway, don’t forget that in my time, we honored our parents, and obeyed them without question. The fifth commandment, to honor your father and mother, was taken very seriously.

Well, eventually, I got out of the doghouse, but the warnings about Jesus did not cease. My parents could tell that I had been deeply impressed, not only about his miracles, but also by what he preached: love and forgiveness, and justice for the poor. And even though I did obey them, something about Jesus stuck with me, something too deep or maybe too dangerous to share with my family. How could I reconcile what I felt about Jesus with the opinions of my parents? How could I go against our religious leaders?

I’m grown up now. An adult. A man. My parents? They’ve gone on to their reward. And yet, their admonitions about Jesus still echo in my mind. I continue, even in my adult life, to hear them. I stayed away from Jesus and his followers, who are now called “Christians” or “little Christs.” But those feelings about Jesus haven’t gone away. Back on the hillside, I felt a real love radiating from Jesus, one that I have not felt since. I would like to know more about him, now, now that I’m an adult.

But how can I? Jesus, you see, is dead and gone. He was killed, executed by the Romans. I’m sure that you know what happened, because by now, several accounts have been written about Jesus. You call them “Gospels” which means “good news.”

After all that I heard from my parents, can I now believe that the story of Jesus really is “good news?” I mean, yes, he did amazing things, healing people and, in my case, feeding thousands. But for me to believe in Jesus, I would need to reject all that I heard about him from my parents. I really struggle with that. And yet that love that I felt from him hasn’t gone away, either.

Was there truth in how he challenged our religious leaders? In how he turned over some of our traditions and beliefs, and how he questioned their authority? Actually, he did more than question their authority: he insulted them, even calling them hypocrites.

“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint, dill, and cumin and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith. It is these you ought to have practiced without neglecting the others.” (Matthew 23) 

And he seemingly left them no choice but to plot against him. I admit that it was a bit extreme to have him put to death by the Romans. But we must trust our leaders, musn’t we? I mean, from boyhood, I was always taught that. Could I reject all that I was taught and accept Jesus and all he stood for? Yes, as I said, it’s a real struggle for me, and I am really torn between the words of my parents and what I felt on that hillside long ago. I mean, can I truly believe that our Father God raised Jesus from the dead? I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t get him out of my mind. His words are still speaking to me, after all these years.

Lately, I’ve been thinking more about Jesus. Much more. Sometimes, I wish I could stop and just forget him. My life would be so much simpler if I could just think like my parents.

But I can’t. And what’s more, those Gospel accounts are beginning to circulate and I’ve read some of them. They’re making a new impression on me, actually challenging my parents’ rigid assumptions about Jesus.

I want to share with you what these accounts have been speaking to me.

Actually, you might think that I’ve read about his other miracles, when he healed and fed people. And yes, they are very impressive when I read about them.

But instead, now, what speaks to me even more are the words of Jesus. Actually, one of his followers, a man named John, has even called Jesus “the word” or “the truth” meaning that Jesus personifies the Word of God himself.

Here is an example of some of the words of Jesus (Matthew 5):

“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you: Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also, and if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, give your coat as well, and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to the one who asks of you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven, for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others?”

Jesus talked about how we are to love and not take revenge. His words, as I consider them, seem to speak directly to my heart. Just like those words on the hillside long ago.

And yes, to the dismay of my parents, Jesus did associate with the oppressed and downtrodden, those whom they called “a rabble.” In my boyhood, I thought that was terrific! I loved that he did that. But then my parents told me how wrong that was, that it was important to maintain the purity of our faith.

The passage of the years has caused me to question many things and now, as an adult, I have realized that all Jesus was doing was obeying our Yahweh God, who had always commanded that we serve others and bring justice to the weak and the poor. It was our religious leaders who had strayed from those commands.

Jesus even told a story about a man who’d been beaten and robbed and left to die. A priest came by but did not offer to help the poor man. Then a Levite. He didn’t help either. But finally, a Samaritan passed by. He was the one who stopped and went out of his way to nurse the man back to life. (Luke 10)

There were so many more words of Jesus that were now speaking to me, and I became hungry to hear and read more and more of them. He even spoke of what he himself represented to our faith, which had gotten so far away from what Jesus called “the weightier matters of the law.”

“No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old cloak; otherwise, the patch pulls away from it, the new from the old, and a worse tear is made. Similarly, no one puts new wine into old wineskins; otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and the wine is lost, and so are the skins, but one puts new wine into fresh wineskins.” (Mark 2)

Jesus was the new wine. I came to believe that he was the new wine that I needed, the very answer to that deep hunger that I had tried so hard to suppress for so many years.

Reading the words of Jesus as an adult took me back to that long-ago hillside, when I was just a young boy, listening to him as he preached. And I remember how moved I felt to bring my five loaves and two fishes, to give what I could to Jesus.

That’s what I want to do now: give what I can to Jesus. Why? Because I have fallen in love with Jesus. Can I make up for lost time? Yes, I believe that I can, that Jesus will welcome me with open arms, just like he did years ago on the hillside.

Back then, on that hillside, I was a witness to Jesus. What he did and what he said moved me, speaking deeply to the heart of a young boy. And even though for years, I tried to resist Jesus, I could not do it. I just couldn’t. So, I will be a witness again, sharing what I saw and heard. Thanks be to God for not giving up on me.