Division not Multiplication

There is a story called The Alchemist told by Paulo Coelho, it is the fable of a young Spanish shepherd named Santiago who decided if he were going to make anything of his life he needed to get advice from the very best. After some difficult journeying the young man came across a grand old building high atop a big hill. There was a wise old man living there. He found the wise old sage seated. “Tell me what must I know for my life to be successful?” – the young man asked.

The old man thought for a moment then he handed the young man a teaspoon into which he poured a few drops from a small flask of olive oil.

“I will tell you”, he said – “but first you must do something for me. I want you to walk right round my big old house – through all the corridors – up and down all the stairs and into every room – especially the library. But you must not spill a drop of oil”.

The young man was puzzled, but decided to humour the old guy. So off he set – very, very carefully. Walking slowly, smoothly, avoiding any sudden movements and concentrating very hard on the spoon – even on every step of the stairs, it took a long time. It was a big house.
“Well?” said the old man when he returned.

“Not a drop spilled” said the young man with real self-satisfaction.
“Now the real test. I want you to describe everything you saw. The views from the upstairs windows, the books in the libraries, the tapestries and fine pictures on the wall and the gardens which my gardener has spent so much time and effort creating”.
The young man looked shamefaced. “Sorry”, he mumbled “didn’t see anything – but I didn’t spill a drop”.

“OK That was part one. Now this time go out again – this time without a glance at the teaspoon. Your task this time is to notice everything.”
Off he went – and it was very different this time.

He came back, his eyes sparkling, filled with excitement.
“This is a fabulous place he said. You can see for miles into the mountains from those upstairs windows – those forests, the patterns in the clouds… you can even see animals in the woods. And the library – where on earth did you manage to find such interesting books. Those oil paintings – I reckon they must be all original. Who designed the house? Those staircases and the grand dining room…”
“And the teaspoon?” asked the old fellow.

The young fellow looked down in embarrassment. “Oh”, he said. “Well yes I might have dropped a bit of oil”.

“OK, you have it now”, said the old fellow. “You see, you won’t notice anything as long as you are only interested in what is in your hand.”

I want to suggest the key to understanding this strange account of the loaves and fishes is our ability to notice things away from our personal situation and focus…or if you like away from the “spoon” we carry.

For me the last week has been one of real reflection on and turmoil about what human nature is like. I’m normally very positive about humanity. I believe that we are made in the image of God and so whatever we do there remains something of the divine spark in all of us. But as I have recalled the horror of the First World War, as I have heard about the persecution and killing of Christians in Iraq and as I have watched news reports of the fighting in Gaza that belief has been sorely tested.

So to come to a gospel reading this week which leaves us with an impression of a Harry Potter-type wizard in the form of Jesus, waving his hand like a stage magician and causing the mysterious multiplication of bread and fish I find difficult. Why not wave a magic wand now and deal with Gaza and Iraq and the Ebola virus?

I would suggest this interpretation of the gospel is not helpful to us as an image. It leaves the story entirely without the need for personal commitment to a situation. If meeting such a need – in this case, feeding the hungry can only be accomplished by a level of deep God-like magic then we only wonder at it and do not expect any possibility that we might be called upon to take action ourselves. We can’t make food multiply magically in this way and so we must just sit back and wait for God to do something miraculous.

But this miracle story is in all four gospels so it is clearly one which was important to the early church, what might it be saying to us? Jesus has heard about the death of John the Baptist and so retreats to be on his own in his grief and anger. But as usual all those curious people come along too, to gawp….people….lots of people.

In Portsmouth we are regularly surrounded by people –go along the seafront any day recently….wall to wall people. Go shopping – fight for space on the path. To see them as a crowd that is the easy bit. To notice their eyes, their aches and pains – to see them as individual people – now that is unusual.

Yet with this particular crowd Jesus does something totally unexpected – and I am not talking about multiplying loaves and fishes. No what Jesus does is every bit as strange – he notices that they are sick and he heals them. He notices that they are hungry and he feeds them. If you look at Jesus’ encounters with different people this is his standard trick – the approach that sets him apart.

The people see a mean tax collector – Jesus looks closer and sees someone worthy of a name, Zaccheus, and what is more an unhappy person. In another place the people see an untouchable leper – yet Jesus sees a person who suffers and wants the touch of human hand to heal. Again the disciples see a prostitute getting into Jesus personal space – Jesus sees her as Mary – again an individual with a name – a woman who can be welcomed.

Let me stress that this is not a common practice. Remember it is all too easy to walk unseeing past the homeless beggar on the street, the Big Issue seller who is always on the corner, see the refugees as part of the passing flickering images on TV but not see them as people. Real people with real names.

The second part of this miracle is that Jesus doesn’t see himself as the only one to whom the responsibility for the act of kindness should be left. It is the disciples he turns to “You give them something to eat” but having had the situation forced upon them they don’t see themselves as part of the answer to this need. I wonder if that is part of my discomfort this week with all that has been thrust at me through the TV screen. I am trying not to see myself as part of the answer to the need?

I am sure that many of us are unconsciously drawn to the easy option of praying for God to fix all. I have heard the most sincere prayers in Church for God to address the needs of the hungry. But what is that worth without the genuine intention to get involved in food parcel collection and distribution or bothering the local politician to raise questions about overseas aid? It is easy to ask some vague idea of God to deal with issues like famine, war, injustice and loneliness by praying but much harder to see the victims as real people with names and resolve to take some form of action ourselves. There is a wonderful picture doing the rounds on Facebook at the moment of a man on a park bench next to a stereotypical picture of Jesus. The man asks Jesus why there is war and famine and suffering and why can’t Jesus end it. Jesus response is to say that he was about to ask the man the same question.

I have heard some interesting discussions about whether the loaves and fishes story is genuine magic type miracle. We will never know but I can see no reason to invoke magic where none is required. I think it quite reasonable to say that those present who did have food were moved by the disciples’ or the boy’s example to share. There is enough food in this unjust world for all to be fed and yet while we waste food the hungry have remained hungry. The real miracle then came not with multiplication but with division. Division, sharing (especially willing division) is actually what builds community. Turning a selfish crowd into a community is what I would term a real miracle.

There were reportedly many hungry people that day – and any other day if their society was anything like ours. Whatever Jesus did – the people were fed and what is more astonishing a crowd of the unthinking has been transformed (if only temporarily) into a caring community.

Our current setting is August 2014. In Gaza Palestinians and Jews are being killed, not remote groups, not faceless stereotypes but real people. Real children with names. In Iraq there will soon be no Christians left as they are driven from their homes or killed. Not some distant part of the church but real worshipping individual Christians, part of the church of which we are members. In West Africa individual people and those caring for them are dying of the Ebola virus. People like you and me. Real people with real names.

I can pray about these things and it is right that I do so but if I had been on that hillside with Jesus all those years ago prayer alone would not have fed the hungry. I would have had to take action, to share what I had. It can seem overwhelming and I am not going to list a series of things we can do – that is up to us as individuals to decide It is not even  up to us individually to solve the problems of the world. But imagine if we all took action, imagine if we all did what we could, imagine if we were prepared to sacrifice an element of our privileged life to enable just one of these people to have a better one.

Can we lift our vision from the spoon in our hand and start seeing from a new perspective?

“You give them something to eat” says Jesus