Full Stomachs
Rev. William S. Trump, Jr.
First Congregational Church of Wauwatosa
August 4, 2013

The other day while I was in line –– at McDonald’s, I was noticing how much their Happy Meal has changed since the days of just nuggets, fries and a Coke. Now there are healthy alternatives for today’s happy meals.

Associating food with happiness is a habit we form as babies, and which we keep trying to feed throughout our adult lives. Every year, we hear dire reports about the ever-increasing chunkiness of us Americans. And I fight the battle myself.

Never have we been so informed about the dangers of obesity, the threat of cancers, heart diseases, strokes, diabetes, and high blood pressure — all associated with bad eating habits and no-exercise lifestyles. So why are so many of us stopping at the take-out window, at the same time we're stocking our freezers with “lean cuisine?” Are we hungering for something that we just can’t seem to satisfy –– no matter how many happy meals we eat?

The issue is not eating. Jesus loved to eat. He was always going out to dinner, cooking meals for friends, and inviting others to join him for a meal, ready to tend to the stomachs, as well as the spirits, of his disciples and followers.

The straight-laced, rigidly religious Sadducees, Pharisees, and scribes took offense at Jesus’ lifestyle and often pointed to his eating habits as evidence of his depraved character and indulgent habits: “This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

The story of God’s relationship with humanity is littered with apple cores and bread crusts, soup pots and oil flagons. Food has led humanity astray, even as it has bound us to the divine.

Can we forget that the first act of disobedience took the form of eating? Can we forget that the first consequence of disobedience was that raising crops for food became laborious . . . even painful? Can we forget that Esau traded his birthright, and forfeited his future, for a pot of soup? We are creatures who continue to think, and act, and even pray, with our stomach, as much as with our hearts and minds and spirits.

One of Christianity’s greatest 20th century leaders, Dorothy Day, reflected once on the importance of food in the Hebrew scripture:

“Adam raised food for him and eve, and did it with pleasure. After the fall of Adam, plowing and seeding and harvesting, earning one’s daily bread either as a husbandman like Cain, or a shepherd like Abel, was a difficult and painful affair. Sacrifices of food were offered to the Lord, whether of beasts, or of bread and wine. Food, because it represented our life — what we live by. We offered our lives to the Lord.”

We also lust after food, as Esau did when he sold his birthright for a mess of pottage. The Israelites complained about their food in the desert and yearned after the flesh pots of Egypt –– even with the bondage and slavery it entailed –– and even though the Lord fed them bread from heaven and water from the rock . . . food which had every delight and taste.

Who can forget the widow’s jar of oil which was never diminished; Ruth gleaning the corn; Daniel and his three companions living on oats, pea beans and barley corn; and the meal that was served Daniel in the lions’ den by the prophet Habakkuk?

It was said that, after the long fast of our Lord in the desert, when the angels came to minister to him, they went first to the blessed mother to see what she had on her stove, and got the soup she'd prepared, and transported it to our Lord, who relished it even more, because his mother had prepared it.

Yet, if our stomach is capable of bringing us low, it's also sometimes the best organ for bringing us together. Convince two coworkers, who never see eye-to-eye, to sit down at a meal together and suddenly, there's a common ground — the table. Countries incapable of signing peace treaties or accords attend formal state dinners not for the chicken, but for the possibility that everything may look negotiable on a full stomach.

Have you ever tried to be angry with someone who just fed you a delicious meal?

In today’s gospel text, Jesus is depicted as both a healer of physical infirmities, and one who feeds the poor multitudes that follow him. Both activities are motivated by compassion. There's nothing that testifies so directly to the power of the incarnation as does Jesus’ continual concern with the physical — not just spiritual — welfare of people.

Disease, deformity, and death were human conditions that Jesus could never ignore, never avoid. He'd wade into the crowds, go off the planned route, alter his whole agenda, in order to deal with the physical injuries and failings of others he encountered. The physical self was honored, healed, and helped. And Jesus never forgot that for men and women, young and old, the world always looked better, possibilities always looked brighter, on a full stomach.

Food was not some bothersome burden that the body occasionally demanded. Food, shared with friends, with enemies, with those who longed to learn, even with those who sought to harm, was an occasion for fellowship. Jesus knew that the truth and love we might offer another is often found in a simple loaf of bread, a broiled fish, or a glass of wine. Taste, and see that the Lord is good.

The story of the feeding of the five thousand is the first real “happy meal.” The communion overtones found in Jesus’ actions, his blessing of the bread, his instructions to sit down and eat, make this the first true happy meal.

Yet, the feat of this feast is a mere foretaste of the banquet Jesus, the Messiah, plans to offer. When the disciples gather at the table with Jesus on that final Passover eve, he breaks bread and pours wine and, in doing so, institutes –– for all who will follow –– the ultimate, definitive happy meal. Here's a feast that really satisfies, filling heart and soul, mind and body, with the flavor of fulfillment and forgiveness. Only at Jesus’ table can our hungers finally be eased –– our gnawing needs finally fulfilled.

As we share this bread and this cup, we are bound to god… and to one another. We remember, and recommit to living in a different way. This is the ultimate happy meal … A meal where we find fulfillment, and forgiveness, and love.

Amen.