John 21 | Fed by God, the Jewish Mother

A little while ago, Kate/my wife and I were watching the wonderful comedy film "Unstrung Heroes," about a little boy's relationship with his, well, somewhat "odd" uncles. One of the "oddities" was the Jewish spirituality practiced by the Uncles, which the child's parents, as "secular" Jews, dismissed out of hand.

After the movie, Kate turned to me almost in tears and said, "God, I love Jews!" I grinned and nodded, because I've often had the same feeling of appreciation well up in myself. One of the things I enjoy most, besides giving us a deep and abiding spirituality which has molded our own faith, is the sense of humor that is almost stereotypical of the Jewish people.

Especially stereotypical is the image of the Jewish mother, hovering over her brood, and shouting, "Eat! Eat!" at them every time they turn around. This is congruent with our image of a people who make a great use of food for other things than simply bodily nourishment.

The Jews use a meal, for instance to celebrate their liberation from Egypt in the Feast of the Passover, and a weekly meal on the Sabbath to celebrate God's gifts and faithfulness.

For the Jewish mother, forcing food on her children is a way for her to demonstrate her love and care for her family. If her children are well-fed, she can be content that she has been a good mother.

With that in mind, I would like to suggest that we expand our repertoire of images for God with this one: God as a Jewish Mother. Now we have prayed to God the Father for nearly two thousand years, but I believe there is room in our traditions for images that speak to us in a variety of metaphors, and since God as Mother is certainly a Biblical image, perhaps the idea of God as a "Jewish" mother is not so far off base.

So how has God fit the stereotype of the Jewish mother in our scriptures? We're used to thinking of the God of the Old Testament as being oppressively legalistic and thoroughly masculine. And yet, think back to God's nurture and care of the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. The Jews awoke every morning to find that God the Jewish Mother had provided all the food that several hundred thousand hungry pilgrims could possibly eat, and later, when they began to complain about the lack of variety, sent more Quail than they could cope with.

It isn't just food, of course, that God provides, but abundant food, prodigious food. In Isaiah 25:6-8, we read one of the most beautiful passages in scripture, and one that clearly pictures God as providing a sumptuous feast for the whole of the earth:

"On this mountain God will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. And God will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples, the sheet that is spread over all nations; he will swallow up death forever. Then God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people will be taken away from all the earth."

This is surely a maternal, nurturing, and feeding image, an image which transcends time and culture, a promise for people of various traditions, and provides us not only with a nurturing image of divinity, but also provides us with a vision worth working for: the renewal of the earth, and the consummation of the present age of hunger, poverty and injustice.

Not surprisingly, when Jesus appeared and began preaching about the Community of God, he used food as his metaphors. To eat with someone was to embrace them, to approve of them, and the opportunity to feed someone, to provide hospitality was thought to be a great honor in New Testament Jewish culture.

Jesus, as part of this culture, not surprisingly adopted the images and metaphors that would be most meaningful for people. So Jesus' first miracle was to provide wine at a party; Jesus' parables included a story about God as a man who threw a great feast, to which no one actually invited would go; and about God as the Jewish mother searching for her lost coins.

Mostly, however, he let the actions speak for themselves. For Jesus did not just dine with the "acceptable" people in society, but also spent his time dining with the kind of people no self-respecting Jew would be caught dead with: prostitutes, Roman collaborators, thieves and zealots. And in feeding them and showing them love, respect, and acceptance, Jesus showed them God; and their lives changed forever.

Even after his death and resurrection, Jesus continues to demonstrate God's care and concern for the disciples as in today's Gospel reading from John, where not only does Jesus provide more fish than they can physically even haul into the boat, but he even has a barbecue waiting for them when they reach the shore.

This motif of being "fed by God" is not, of course, reserved only for the Jews. Largely because of the "Jewishness" of early Christianity and the practice of Jesus himself of using food as a teaching tool, our Christian tradition has continued the motif, coming to the Eucharistic table every week to be fed "spiritual food" by, our tradition teaches us, Jesus himself.

The meanings of the Eucharist have undergone many changes throughout the church's history. Although this is fit subject for a good number of lectures, it is sufficient here to say that even though Christians' needs changed dramatically over the past two thousand years, the Eucharistic table has always been there to support them. Though the words have changed, the actions changed, and even the meaning of the ritual has changed dramatically, the simple actions involved, the taking, breaking and sharing of bread has remained constant.

And this is so because although cultures vary widely, people are basically the same. We need food. We need safety. We need guidance. We need love and support. And the symbols which best provide these things, a meal made sumptuous with rich wine, ornate vessels and mysterious ritual have come down to us through the centuries from the hands of an insightful rabbi names Jesus, who knew a good symbol when he saw it.

One of my favorite professors in College went to the same church I attended, and for her, it was not the words of the liturgy that impacted her, nor the ritual enacted by the priest. For the her the most powerful element of the service was coming to the communion rail, kneeling, and holding out her hands.

For her, this simple action spoke volumes. It said "I cannot do this alone. I need to receive sustenance from God." This simple actions of holding out her hands spoke of her conscious dependence on God for her nourishment, indeed, for her very survival. The repetition of the rite from week to week spoke to her like the line from Oliver: "Please, sir, I want some more." But unlike the rocks given to poor Oliver, God our Jewish mother gives us exactly the nourishment we need. Not merely bread, but nurture, community, hope and wisdom.

Let us pray.

Eternal God,
from before the times of our reckoning,
we have celebrated with a holy meal
the family you have made of us.

You have come to us in many ways:
To the children of Abraham and Sarah,
you came in manna, the life-giving bread
that appeared as dew upon the ground,
nourishing and giving witness to your faithfulness
day after day.

To the disciples, you came in Jesus, the Bread of Life,
feeding the souls of all who have ears to hear;
to Christians you have come in the bread of Eucharist,
uniting a family of faith, now and forever more;
and to people of compassion everywhere
you have come in your life-giving Spirit
to provide a soulful feast for the whole of the Earth.

Therefore we ask that,
in the sharing of the bread at our table,
and in the drinking of the wine,
our own eyes might be opened to behold you
in the glory of your Creation, in the Wisdom of your Word,
and in the faces of our sisters and brothers
gathered in your name to celebrate an astounding love.

Feed us now, God our Mother,
the things which we most need
to receive from your hand. Amen.