So he went to his beautiful,
opulent palace – a palace fit for a king – looked out across his kingdom, took
a deep breath… and began thinking.
I imagine that in this moment of
rest, he looked back on his accomplishments: Defeat the giant: check. Become
king: check. Overcome all my enemies: check. Unite the kingdom: check.
Not bad.
And all because of the Lord’s
help.
The Lord. The God of his
ancestors. The God who remains without a proper home or temple. The God whose
home is still a tent.
Wait! That’s not right!
After consulting with the
prophet Nathan, David decided to build God a temple. But that night, in a dream
or vision, the Lord’s word came to Nathan, and the Lord said: “You know – I’m
good. I don’t need a temple. At least not yet. I’ve been living in a tent since
I brought Israel out of Egypt many, many years ago. I’ve never asked for nor
demanded a temple in all the years since. So tell David his son can build me a
temple, but for now, I’m good.”
King David was obviously not the
only king who lived in a palace. Many years later, King Herod lived in a
palace. A mighty fine palace.
The palace banquet hall, in
particular, was a mangnificent room, a luxurious triclinium, with painted walls
and ceilings, trimmed in cedar and possibly gold. The tables were piled high
with the richest of foods, the finest meat, the freshest fruit, and of course,
the best wine.
Herod had also built God a fine
temple in which to dwell. The temple Herod built was the grandest building
structure on earth. And of course, everyone who saw the temple that Herod had built
would know that Herod had built it, and would understand that it was more a
reflection of Herod’s glory than God’s.
The Bible tells of a great
banquet Herod hosted in his palace, a grand party with lots of guests. The
occasion was Herod’s birthday. But before we talk any more about that, let’s
talk about where God was…
God, of course, is everywhere.
But we do speak metaphorically of God dwelling in certain places… like the ark
of the covenant… or the temple. God’s presence was particularly strong in Jesus,
who is often referred to as God’s son, or sometimes emmanual, a name that means “God with us.”
Emmanuel wasn’t invited into
Herod’s banquet hall. Emmanuel also wasn’t in or at the temple.
And yet, out there in the middle
of nowhere, Emmanuel – God – hosts a banquet.
Herod’s banquet in the palace
banquet hall has everything you could ever want. Herod and his wealth could
provide everything. If you ever win the lottery and wanted to host a banquet,
you’d try to make it look like Herod’s banquet.
Jesus’s banquet in the
wilderness: there’s nothing there. Not even food. The disciples come to Jesus
and say, “send the people back home; send them back to the nearest villages to
buy something to eat for themselves…”
Jesus and his disciples have
nothing to give, especially not to such a large crowd.
Surely, if given a choice,
anyone would choose Herod’s banquet over Jesus’s banquet.
Herod considered himself the
provider of bread and life. The people depended on him for survival. Without
Herod, they would surely perish. Life itself was Herod’s gift to his people.
Baruch atah, Herod our king; praise to you, Herod our king, who
brings forth bread and provides it to his people.
During Herod’s banquet, his
daughter performed an exotic, enchanting dance that delighted all the guests.
Herod, showing off, said, “whatever you want, I’ll give you!”
She asked for John the Baptist’s
head.
Even though he had put John the
Baptist in prison, Herod respected John and didn’t want to kill him. But he
couldn’t go back on the promise he made in front of all his guests. He gave the
command, and her wish was granted. A guard went and cut off John’s head, and
presented it at the banquet.
Eww.
All of a sudden, the the focus
was no longer on Herod the provider of bread and life; the focus was now on
Herod, who takes life away, and makes people feel sick to their stomachs.
Meanwhile, out in the desolate,
barren wilderness, the disciples tell Jesus to send the people away so they can
get something to eat; there is no sustenance for them here. Jesus says to his
disciples: “You give them something to eat.”
The disciples are befuddled.
Jesus instructs the disciples to
have the people sit in groups on the green grass as though they were having a banquet. There’s no palace, no
triclinium, no banquet table, and no food, but the disciples trust Jesus enough
to do what he says.
Then Jesus takes the only food
they could find in that huge crowd –
a few loaves of bread and a couple of fish – he lifts them up and says:
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu; praise to you, the Lord our God, who brings forth bread from the earth…
There is abundance: twelve
baskets of food are filled with the leftovers.
And the message is clear: one
doesn’t need a palace or a temple or power or wealth in order to have a life of
abundance.
Everything you need, you already
have. Everything you need, you already
have.
I don’t think the disciples ever
again muttered, “If only we could win the lottery, then we could dine like
Herod!”
Then again, maybe they did. It
wasn’t very long before this banquet in the wilderness that Jesus sent the
disciples out to do ministry on their own. He sent them out two by two. What
did he tell them to take with them?
Nothing.
Don’t take any food, don’t take
a bag, don’t take any extra clothes, don’t take any money.
But Jesus, don’t we need any
equipment?
No. You are the equipment. Everything you need, you already have.
And they went out…. And they
were a success.
This is what happens in the
gospel of Mark immediately before the story of Herod’s banquet.
Jesus sends the disciples out.
Then we hear about Herod’s banquet in the palace. Then we hear about Jesus’s
banquet in the wilderness. And then, two chapters later, there is another
banquet in the wilderness, another miraculous feeding in which, again, the disciples
are without food and wonder how they are going to feed all these people, and
yet in the end, after everyone has eaten, there are baskets full of leftovers.
There are several reasons why
there are two miraculous feeding
stories in Mark’s gospel, which I don’t have time to get into today. But one
thing is clear: everything you need, you already have.
But sometimes we forget
something. And sometimes, counselors want a whole load of stuff for their
family groups. And my message to them is: you don’t really need all that stuff.
You think you do, but you don’t. And without it, you have the opportunity to
teach your campers an important lesson, which is that everything you need, you already have.
You may not have what you need
for a particular activity. But you do have what you need to have a great week
at camp.
Last year, we had some campers
who, once they arrived at camp, just couldn’t imagine a week away from all the
comforts of home. All their “stuff” was like a security blanket for them, and
being without it was creating quite a bit of anxiety for them.
Halfway through the week, we
slept outdoors. We laid out tarps, threw some mattresses down on top of the
tarps, and the kids brought their sleeping bags there for a night under the
stars.
Those same kids were nervous
about that. As if living in a cabin for a week wasn’t bad enough, now they had
to spend the night without a roof over their head?
And yet, as we lay there, those
same kids looked up at the stars and were amazed. They had never slept outside
before, and perhaps had never before seen the stars shining the way they do at
camp. And the only thing they could think to say was: “Man, think of all those
kids back home who never get to see this…”
It was a night they would never
forget, one of the best nights of their lives.
There was no roof over their
heads. No bed to sleep on. No TV. No wifi for the phones they weren’t supposed
to have anyway.
But everything they needed, they
had.
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