My stomach growls. My heart and body are hungry. And hopeful. But I am not unlike everyone else, I sit in the dirt, my clothes ragged and loose, head beaten down by the sun. We all came here for a reason, to forget it all and know all. We followed this man- the very man who has been said to heal any broken people in his path. Make blind men see. Let the cripple stand. Walk on water. The very lake water I now long to drink in my dead thirst.
I am here with thousands of men and women, children too. Next to the Sea of Galilee heads line the sand like another ocean, wavering and wide. There is the blurred cacophony of human socialization; murmuring, crying, screaming, fighting. Some families stand either doubting and defiant, others curious and comforted.
Then he comes, and suddenly at the appearance of this ordinary man there is an extraordinary presence among us. His twelve servants follow and by now the crowd has hushed. Everyone is sitting- some are bowing, some begging in whispers and others crawling closer to the Son of God. I came alone but it feels as for once I’m part of something bigger, something once unimaginable. Together the thousands of heads turn in one direction, restless and waiting. He begins to preach the lovely and wise parables.
They are like riddles sometimes, and yet unbelievably simple and true. My heart knows it.
I can sit and stare, watch him in the far distance toward the front of the masses, and still hear his voice echo clear and pure. The heat is gone when he talks, I forget about the fallouts of reality and the world. But my stomach still growls, even as my soul grows full. Then out of nowhere, a slice of bread is handed to me. The disciples are delivering baskets of loaves. I slowly chew and swallow, then sigh. I don’t care who handed it to me. I’m just happy to be alive, to see the man called Jesus, to be full.