By Morf Morford
We all know this line as one of the opening scenes of one of Jesus’ most well-known miracles – the feeding of the five thousand.
Most commentators use this verse to highlight the contrast between Jesus and his disciples; the disciples show their lack of faith in God as the provider, while Jesus steps up, fully relying on, and ultimately proving God’s ability, even eagerness to provide – and not just adequately, but with gleeful abundance (Matthew 14:20).
It is one of the central stories of the New Testament – and it’s not a parable.
The scriptures stake Jesus’ identity, and our own identity as ambassadors of the Kingdom, on stories like this.
I, like many Christians I know, sometimes wish I lived in these times to witness miracles like these.
But I forget that, along with the miracles, will be a first, almost reflexive burst of faithlessness.
And I also forget that if the issues, concerns and values of the Bible were ever true, they still are.
And I look in horror and shame at the living, breathing expression of faithlessness on our southern border as my people, using images and quotes from my faith, curse, threaten and spit on desperate, fearful and abandoned children.
Jesus told his disciples to “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these (Mark 10:14, Luke 18:16). But somehow, so many, in the name of Jesus, would gladly shut our doors in the frightened faces of refugee children.
How did faith turn into an expression of fear, cowardice and hatred?
I find it fascinating that so many seem so eager to publicly betray their own individual and national beliefs and values. I see them wave their flags as they send our vigilante groups along our border. Could there be anything more contrary to our nation’s most iconic symbol, Statue of Liberty which carries the lines (carved in stone lest we forget): “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of our teeming shore. Send these, the homeless tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
And how many of these would call themselves ‘pro-life’ and admit, in a calmer moment perhaps, that every one of us is created in the image of God, and every life is sacred.
But somehow we see personal faith, national identity and even basic human decency trampled and ignored in the spirit of a nameless, fearful frenzy.
I am sure that these people at home, are ‘good people’ who care for their own children, but somehow, like the two ‘good people’ in the parable of the Good Samaritan, they find it easy to turn their backs on their own humanity.
Like the ‘Good Samaritan’ (Luke 10:25-37) our acceptance in God’s eyes has little, or even nothing, to do with our mastery of theological minutia, but everything to do with our direct, specific and peculiarly human response to the always unpredictable and ever-demanding needs of the broken world around us.
But couldn’t we imagine an alternate reality where Christians were the ‘first responders’ not in menace or hostility, but in compassion, welcome and practical assistance?
The heart of the parable of the ‘Good Samaritan’ is not so much about being a ‘good neighbor’ or even redefining who one’s ‘neighbor’ is. The core of the story is that being a ‘good neighbor’ is never an abstraction; ‘loving one’s neighbor’ is immediate, practical, difficult and infinitely (literally) rewarding.
It seems to me to come down to a simple equation; are we bearers of the ‘good news’ or willing representatives of even more ‘bad news’?
As Jesus warned us, one way is easy, while the other way will continually challenge us – and those around us.
And perhaps above all, we dare not forget God’s clear priorities;
The Lord watches over the foreigner
and sustains the fatherless and the widow. Psalm 146:9 (NIV)
Anyone who has been in Sunday School in past 30 years knows this song;
Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world
Red& yellow, black & white
they're precious in his sight
Jesus loves the little children of the world
Jesus cares for all the children
All the children of the world
Black and yellow, red and white
They're all precious in His sight
Jesus cares for the children of the world
It’s good to know that Jesus loves all the children of the world, especially when, sometimes, we forget to . . .
Morf Morford considers himself a free-range Christian who is convinced that God expects far more of us than we can ever imagine, but somehow thinks God knows more than we do. To pay his bills, he’s been a teacher for adults (including those in his local county jail) in a variety of setting including Tribal colleges, vocational schools and at the university level in the People’s Republic of China. Within an academic context, he also writes an irreverent ESL blog and for the Burnside Writers Collective. As he’s getting older, he finds himself less tolerant of pettiness and dairy products.