It can happen sometimes, in the darkest moment, when all hoped seems lost, that a ray of light can shine into our lives and change everything. It can happen, that the voice of God can speak to us and suddenly bring new life . . . And it does happen, in our first reading this weekend.
We listen to that beautiful reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah. It is a very positive and encouraging message, and yet the context Isaiah is addressing could not be any further from that reality. He is speaking to the People of Israel, God’s chosen. God had entered into a covenant relationship with Israel which the prophets describe as spousal. He had espoused Himself to them, to be their faithful husband and that they would be His bride.
At one of the highest points in that relationship we find the Davidic Covenant, God’s promises for the nation under David the King. God had said to David, “I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for my name and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever” (2 Samuel 7:12-13). We understand this covenant as containing the promise of the Messiah, and the establishment of a kingdom that would never be destroyed (Daniel 2:44). It was one of the highest points in the history of that nation.
And yet, as Isaiah speaks to them this morning, they are at the lowest point. So far from being a strong and established nation, they are a nation enslaved. So far from being that fruitful spouse of God, they have been carried off into exile in Babylon because of their infidelity. Precisely at that moment, however, God speaks to Israel and gives them a message of hope. He calls out to them, and invites them to share in a new beginning and the fullness of life:
All you who are thirsty, come to the water! You who have no money, come, receive grain and eat; come without paying and without cost, drink wine and milk!
—Isaiah 55:1
He has so much to offer, and they will never want for anything if they will only heed, only receive Him! He assures them that, in Him, they will have life. And then God makes the most astounding promise:
I will renew with you the everlasting covenant, the benefits assured to David
—Isaiah 55:3
With that God has made it clear that He is not finished with them, and the covenant He made with David is far from over. He will bring them back into the Promised Land and give them a King who will reign over the nations, and His kingdom will last forever. In the darkest moment, when all hope seemed lost, God reignited hope and prepared the way for the Messiah.
It can happen. It can happen precisely in the most vulnerable moments, when sorrow seems overwhelming, that God can provide for us and give us new life. It happens in the Gospel of St. Matthew this morning. The opening lines of that passage are significant:
“When Jesus heard about the death of John the Baptist, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself.”
—Matthew 14:13
It had to be one of the lowest points in Jesus’ public ministry to that point, the death of his own cousin. John the Baptist was the precursor of the Messiah, the faithful friend of the Bridegroom that had prepared the way for the coming of the kingdom. But the way he had died! Beheaded at the behest of a selfish king in the stale darkness of the palace prison. Rightly does Christ withdraw, in that time of sorrow, intending to be alone. What must He have been thinking, as His own death now seemed so much closer than it had a few moments before.
The crowds, however, hearing all this, followed Him and sought Him out. St. Matthew’s description of what happened next is remarkable.
When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them.
—Matthew 14:14
He was filled with pity and compassion, not for Himself but for them. Even in the midst of His own sorrow, he had compassion on these people and He healed them; He fed them with the loaves and fish, performing a miracle of love.
The miracle of the multiplication of the loaves and the fish, of course, foreshadows how Christ will feed us with His body and blood. The very words He uses—He took the loaves, He blessed them, He broke them, He gave them to the disciples—are the very same words used to describe the institution of the Eucharist (see Matthew 26:26).
We can reflect for a moment about how the total generosity of Christ in the Eucharist comes to us from the point of greatest vulnerability. It is on the cross, where Christ is wounded and pierced, that He offers up His body for the salvation of the world, and pours out His blood for the forgiveness of sins. It is at the Last Supper, immediately after He has announced that He will be betrayed, and with His own violent death looming before Him, that He says, “I have earnestly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer” (Luke 22:15). As His own passion is beginning, He lovingly and generously gives us His own body and blood in the Eucharist.
One of the earliest images for our Lord in Christian iconography is the pelican. Back in the 2nd Century, the pelican was often depicted as a symbol for Jesus in the Eucharist. Christians would observe that large-billed bird, and the peculiar way it fed its young. It appeared to be piercing its own breast with its enormous beak, staining its feathers with blood, and then giving its own flesh to the hungry nestlings (ornithologists would later understand that, in fact, pelicans press small fish against their bodies in order to provide manageable portions for the young). This image of the pelican is found all throughout the churches of Europe as a rich symbol for Christ, who allows Himself to be pierced and wounded so that He may feed us and give us new life.
We come here this morning, to this celebration of the Eucharist, all of us with our crosses and vulnerability. Here, God meets us at the point of our greatest need and gives us new life. But there are people in each of our lives right now, people that we encounter perhaps on a regular basis, who are almost without hope. There are people in the midst of this global pandemic who cannot see what tomorrow will look like and have considered the very real possibility of giving up. There are people in our world today that are very much in the dark . . .
But it can happen, in the darkest moment, when all hope seems lost, that a ray of light can shine into their lives and change everything. It can happen, that the voice of the Holy Spirit can speak to them a word that gives new life. It can happen that you and I—coming here to feed on Christ in the Eucharist, to be strengthened by Christ in the word of God, and deepening our lives with Christ in daily prayer— can become instruments of God and communicate the message of hope in a world that desperately longs to see the face of Jesus Christ.
