Back in the ‘70s, I attended a U.C.C. association meeting held at a church in Queens, New York. The theme of the meeting was the problem of world hunger. The speakers were excellent, the seminars informative, and all of us came away inspired to do something about this terrible problem. After the afternoon program, we went down to dinner in the church’s social hall. The tables and chairs were set up ready for us.

But something was odd about how the ten places at each table were set. In front of nine of the places was a plastic bowl, a plastic cup, a plastic spoon, and a paper napkin. The setting in front of the chair at the head of the table was very different. On a lovely placemat there was real china, not the usual church china. Beside the plate there was real silver service not stainless steel. There was also a linen napkin, a crystal water glass, and a china cup and saucer. There was also a fresh fruit cup appetizer, and a large slice of homemade pie.

After the initial surprise we all found places to sit. I was uncomfortable choosing the seat at the head table and sat on the side with the plastic bowl and spoon. What happened next was even more surprising. Those of us with the plastic bowl and spoons were served a rather small amount of beans and rice and some water in our plastic cups. However, the person at the head was served a large meal of roast turkey, dressing, potatoes, gravy, and fresh asparagus as well as rolls and butter and a large slice of homemade pie. After the blessing, it was time for dinner.

By now, all of us had figured out that each table represented the world food problem. Nine out of ten of the world’s people had little or nothing to eat and drink while the fortunate tenth had more than they could eat. We talked about how unfair this was while we ate our rice and beans and the person at the head of the table ate the feast.

After dinner something struck me. We had all heard the presentations about world hunger. We were compassionate, concerned, Christian people. But one thing did not happen at any of the tables so far as I could tell. Can you guess what it was? None of those at the head of the table shared their food with the rest of us! There was no rule against sharing, but no one thought to do it.

This was ironic, wasn’t it? None of us protested about it. We ate what was given us and accepted the fact that that is the way the world is. The rich had too much and the poor had too little. I have come to believe that a sort of complacency settles over all of us, the world’s fortunate few. We feel no great urgency to challenge the way things are.

Thank God for Pilgrim’s Food Pantry that serves hundreds of poor people every month. It’s not a lot but it symbolizes our concern for others. We feel good about distributing our food boxes and we should, but we can hardly imagine ourselves coming to Pilgrim’s back door for a food box. We know where our next meal is coming from and we have the resources to prove it.

So how should we approach this strange passage from Isaiah abut free food and drink? This doesn’t apply to us, or does it? Twenty-five hundred years ago, the great prophet of the exile we call the Second Isaiah, called out with a loud voice three times: “HO!” “HO” “HO” “Listen up!” “Pay attention to what I have to say!” “God wants you to hear this!” Who is he yelling at?

That’s easy. He was yelling at the Jewish people living in exile in the country of Babylon. Why are they there? That’s easy, too. In 587 B.C.E. the most powerful empire in the world, the Babylonian empire, captured Jerusalem and the country around it. The city itself had been sacked and burned. The great Temple of Solomon destroyed. Just to be on the safe side the Babylonians deported many Jews to the City of Babylon to keep a watchful eye on them in case they decided to revolt.

In the early years of the exile the Jews complained bitterly about their fate. But as time passed things didn’t seem so bad. Like immigrants and refugees today, they settled down to make a living in their new country. As more time passed, some of them became well-off. Their former life in Israel became a fading memory. Some of them even began to worship Marduk, the chief god of the Babylonians. After all, their own God, the Lord God, hadn’t saved them from exile. Their motto could have been: “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.”

But suddenly, unexpectedly, something happened. The Babylonian empire, once so powerful, was captured by Cyrus the Great of Persia in 538 B.C.E. This was about fifty years after the Jews had been taken into exile. Most surprising of all, Cyrus gave permission for any Jews who wished to return to Israel. That was the problem. Some wanted to go back, others did not. Life was good in Babylon. Why risk hardship even disaster by going back to their homeland?

Friends, these were the people that the Second Isaiah was trying to reach. Yes, life was good in Babylon and there was plenty to eat and drink, but something was missing from their lives. Though they did not know it, they were losing their faith, their vision, their soul. Only by returning to Israel could they rebuild their religious faith. They had to trust God enough to risk going home across the desert. Thank God, many of them did or we wouldn’t be sitting here this morning!

These were the people the Second Isaiah offered God’s free food and drink. Without it they would become spiritually malnourished. Eventually their faith would die. As the old Reformed hymn says, it doesn’t matter how well-off we may be by this world’s standards it is “God and God Alone” that gives us meaning in this life and eternity in the next. Do we trust God enough to believe that?

At every communion, we have the opportunity to remind ourselves that whatever our financial situation we must have God’s food and drink or our souls will shrivel up and die. Only God’s grace will give us life, real life.

Look! God’s Food Pantry is on the table before us. Come and eat and drink and live.