02/08/2026
Preached at Mascot Wesley Uniting Church this morning by Hee Chang.
Gen 32:22-31 and Mt. 14:13-21
āWrestled with, but blessedā¦ā
Two stories meet us today.
One begins in the night, where darkness overshadows with enough moonlight and stars to navigate the way. It was during the night, where Jacob is wrestled with and is made new.
Darkness begins with the beauty of the sunset.
And the other story takes place as light slowly gives way to the night. In a deserted place, people are gatheredā¦over five thousandā¦and somehow five loaves of bread and two fish are enough to feed everyone.
Two distinctive stories, inviting us to see who we are and where we are in these stories. That is what stories do. They have the power to invite us in and somehow these stories become our stories.
Sometimes we are like Jacobā¦welcoming the blanket of the night to be honest with God. Sometimes we are like the disciples, wondering why God keeps on insisting impossible is possible. And sometimes, we are bothā¦wrestling through one night, shaking our heads at the unimaginable.
This week, as I wrestled with these stories, wondering what I can share with you todayā¦I heard a story from a Palestinian theologian who grew up in Gaza. Dr. Yousef Khoury is on a speaking tour in Australia and New Zealand to share about the complex realities on the ground and how Christians...how we can bear witness and support a just peace in the Holy Land.
On Tuesday night, Dr. Yousef shared about the Nakba, the forced displacement of Palestinians in 1948 and about the theology of terror that normalizes occupation. He talked about the longing of the generations before him, who dreamt of returning home in Palestine. There are many who, to this day, hold on to the key to their house they were forced to leave behindā¦His story is a story of survival, resilience, and a painful struggle against the Israeli occupationā¦of profound sorrow witnessing the genocide and erasure of families. Stopped at every checkpoint, harassed and silenced. It was painful to bear witness to his story.
But he also talked about Muslims and Christians in Gaza, who did not just coexist, but he called it ādoing life togetherāā¦stories of how his motherās Muslim neighbours, as food ran out, would share what they had. Stories of how bread was baked near the border walls and was thrown over for those in refugee camps. And again and again, he insisted on nonviolent resistance of love.
Despite the ongoing violence in Gaza and the West Bank,
he insisted on love.
Impossible.
Like the love revealed to us on the Cross.
Bloodied, bruised and wounded.
The scandal of radical impossible love.
And Jesusā hands with marks still offering, āPeace be with you.ā
This love does not let us go till we are blessed to become a blessing.
In the darkness of the night, God bids us to be honest and welcome the wrestling. That night, Jacob is wrestled with. Some say a man, some say an angel, some say it was God, some say Jacob himselfā¦someone wrestled with Jacob. Jacob, too, did not let go. And as dawn breaks in, a new name is earned along with a wound.
A different postureā¦
So perhaps, now is the time for our theology to be wrestled withā¦that continues to erase and displace certain people at the expense of another. Maybe it is time to learn a different posture. And perhaps, now is the time we deeply wrestle with ourselves who have treated Gaza as a place God cannot be seenā¦as if abandoned by Godā¦
Into this abandoned place, Jesus enters.
In this deserted place, empty and void, people are gathered, and Jesus is stirred with compassion. The disciples argue; they need to be sent away. Faced with the scale of destruction in Gaza, the world insists; they need to be sent away.
But then Jesus says, āthey need not go away.ā
Instead, he encourages the disciples, āyou give them something to eat.ā So, the disciples offer what they have. What they can.
Five loaves and two fish.
And Jesus takes what they offer, gives thanks, breaks the bread, and puts it back into the hands of the disciples. Nothing is multiplied or dropped from heaven. Somehow, what the disciples give is more than enough.
Bread moves from clenched fists into open hands.
Community forms as people eat together.
And together, they get through the night.
A miracle. Yes.
But the miracle is not that food multiplied out of nothing.
The miracle is in the sharing.
In Gaza, Muslim neighbours share what they have. People bake bread near the border, to be thrown over the wall to those trapped in refugee camps. Loaves pass from hand to hand, over concrete wall and barbed wire, because life continues.
Even under occupation, even as genocide continues, even as bombs blast nearā¦still Jesus insists bread can be shared.
My body broken for you.
My life poured out for you.
In the face of occupation, sharing bread seems so insignificant.
So small. So useless.
Sharing bread will not end this occupation.
Sharing bread will not end global conflicts.
Sharing bread will not fix any of my problems.
But it does something.
Clenched fists come undone.
The logic of us vs. them is undone.
The luxury of despair is undone.
Instead, this impossible love of Jesus Christ is tasted.
In this small act of sharing, in this small act of opening ourselves up just a bit, in this small act of wrestling so that peace might be possibleā¦God takes what we offer, gives thanks, and offers it back to us.
'You, my child, are now blessed.
Walk with me and be a blessing to others.'
Darkness begins with the beauty of the sunset and ends with the splendour of sunrise. That nightā¦as it slowly gave way to lightā¦the sun roseā¦sharing warmth and lightā¦and Jacobā¦was now limpingā¦for he learned to walk differently.
Wrestled with, but blessed.
May this be our story. Amen.
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