On loaves and fishes (or pita and lamb)....

Most Christians are familiar with the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand with the five loaves and two fishes that were available. There is also the Old Testament story of the widow who fed Elijah with an endless bottle of olive oil, allowing her to be an example of faith that does not fail. The Israelites were fed for the 40 years they wandered in the wilderness with manna falling from heaven each morning, just enough for the day, but no more.

Miracles with food are a staple of the Biblical tradition, the fulfillment of a basic need through trust in God alone. But I don't think most people expect that to happen today.

And yet, I recently enjoyed the same kind of miracle in my own life. It was a seasonal confirmation that God does have concern for both the soul and the human bodies that inhabit his earth. It never hurts to see a prayer answered, so when the faith wavers, you have something to look back on to bolster what you believe.

The setting? A very special dinner at church, wildly successful beyond all hopes and dreams by those who organized it. Instead of 250 or 300, over 400 people were there, with more turned away for lack of space.

The event? A remembrance of the Last Supper of Christ with his Apostles before he was betrayed by a kiss for 30 pieces of silver which bought a pauper's graveyard. (Such a fitting end for those tarnished coins, I think.)

The time? Maundy Thursday, the Thursday of the Passion Week in Christianity, when we recall not only the Last Supper, but Jesus going to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray and the betrayal of Judas.

The people? The congregation of my church, who have attended the events in this Lenten season in unprecedented numbers.

The place? The dining area at my church, which comfortably seats about 350 people, but which somehow expanded to make space for 420.

The snag? Food for 250. "God, we have a problem."

How it all unfolded....

I arrived at 5 p.m., expecting the food (ordered and confirmed for 400) to be there. The tables were set, the Seder plates were prepared, the Communion wine was poured, the bread was placed on the Paten. All was in readiness, and we required only food and people to complete the setting. Food which was very slow to arrive. And people who weren't.

The nerves started to fray as the clock ticked, and decisions were made to change how things would be done to increase efficiency. Salad plates were collected from the tables as we waited, nerves jangling, organizers beginning to show signs of panic as frantic phone calls were placed.

The food finally arrived, nearly an hour late and just minutes before the event was scheduled to begin. Relief was evident on the faces of everyone in the kitchen as the first pans came through the door. Covers were lifted, and salads were dished up as the deliveryman stood there waiting to be paid.

Eventually disbelief registered on those same faces as the realization sunk in that the small amount of food that had been delivered was all there would be. The delivery guy was pulled over to the serving out table, and someone asked him if that would be enough salad for 400 people. [A foolish question really, since it was self-evident that it wouldn't be, but desperate times call for desperate questions.] I think that betrayed the forlorn hope that somehow, some way, we could stretch food for 250 into food for 400.

With the cavalier assurance of someone who would be long gone when the food ran out too early, our own Judas kissed the problem goodbye with a breezy assurance that it would be plenty, and ran out the door with substantially more than 30 pieces of silver, leaving us to our fate.

Well, in not very many minutes, the kitchen staff could be seen counting lettuce leaves and tomato wedges, artfully mounding them on each plate to make them look more full (a hopeless task, but entertaining in retrospect.) Even so, we rapidly depleted the salad about halfway through the stack of plates, and while people began to pour in, we were desperately struggling to come up with solutions to a situation that had no good ending in sight.

There was talk of strategies that were destined to result in cries from the populace of doom upon our heads, all rejected for their impracticality. Ultimately, a mad dash was made to the nearest grocery store for 20 bags of lettuce, assorted mixed greens, Greek salad dressing with a couple of Italian thrown in for good measure (yes, that is dripping with irony,) Feta cheese and Kalamata olives. Then another mad dash back to church in the pouring rain. We may not have enough of the entree, but by the grace of God and OPEC, we would have salad.

When I got back into the kitchen after parking the car, bedraggled and somewhat wired from the whole experience, I saw something that confirmed my faith in my fellow men and women. Enormous food service bowls full of salad, lettuce flying into the air as people were tossing (with plastic gloves on, in case there are any food service inspectors reading, we follow codes,) followed by salad thrown onto plates which rapidly filled up trays that were then distributed to the waiting tables.

It is amazing how quickly something can get done when you have 25 eager people willing to pitch in and do the job. The tables were filling quickly, and the assembled attendees were none the wiser to the frantic explosion of activity in the kitchen, which was just as well. I even heard a rumor later that the salad was delicious, an irony which still makes me laugh out loud.

Of course, the overall problem remained. We had pita and entrees for about 250 people (the pieces of pita were counted, there were 250, I'm not just pulling these numbers out of my hat, you know,) and over 400 in attendance.

But somehow, with the salad situation worked out, it was easier to think clearly, and a strategy was devised. All the pitas were cut into thirds, and everyone got a couple on their plate, which, in the event, was probably enough for most people, anyway. There was plenty of hummus (did we really need three pans of hummus?) and there was enough falafel.

The main entree was lamb and chicken with saffron rice. Instead of being served out in separate dishes as originally planned, they all went together in a single serving dish, one per table. Somehow, miraculously, it was enough.

The remainder of the evening was a lovely recreation of that evening's part in the journey to the cross, a memorable event that put us in the path that Jesus himself followed. We observed the ancient rites of the Seder meal, followed by the communion which Jesus himself first observed that evening with his disciples, and it suddenly had more meaning for me than it has in the past. The symbolism came alive as I participated, and, as intended, it changed me inside.

The evening was enlightening for me in many ways, because it suddenly dawned on me how the miracles that Jesus performed were done in shadow, out of the knowledge of most of the people following his teaching. Although his disciples knew, and those close to him had some limited understanding, I would imagine most of the 5000 had no idea they were in the presence of a miracle. But it was life changing for those who witnessed it, and who saw the power of God to work in the lives of those who seek his help.

Isn't that really the message of our annual observance of Easter? No problem is too great that God doesn't have the solution, if we have faith? Even the irredeemably sinful have an opportunity for something more, if they will only accept the grace that God has offered them.

I don't expect a miracle in my life, but they do happen sometimes. Food for 250 can't be made to stretch into food for 400 no matter how creative you are without a little inspiration from on high. Whether it was the presence of someone imbued with the ability to make it happen, or the clearheaded perception to recognize the important piece of the problem and solve it, or a simple miracle of creating food where it didn't exist before, somehow God will provide if we trust that it can happen.

I think, for me, the Easter moment occurred on Maundy Thursday when we fed the 400. I wouldn't want to have to do it all the time, but in the end, it was inspiring and fitting that God would demand faith in order to mitigate disaster in the midst of Holy Week.

This week, I wish you a miracle of your own. They have an impact that is amazing, and they allow you to see a tiny slice of heaven on earth.

Happy Easter! He is risen! He is risen, indeed! Hallelujah