The Sauntering Pilgrim

If you’re feeling spiritually dry today—hungry for meaning, longing for the “abundant” life Jesus promised (John 10:10)—then listen to God’s invitation: “Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters. Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price” (Isa. 55:1). The invitation matters, because it tells us that abundant life is not transactional.

Many of us are raised to believe life is a transaction. We learn we have to earn respect, approval, acceptance, and sometimes even love. So it’s easy to assume God works that way too: What do I have to do to earn God’s love? What must I do now to get into heaven later? What is the transaction life asks of me?

But the gospel says something very different. We don’t have to earn abundant life. We don’t have to do anything to deserve it. There’s no test to pass, no perfect prayer to say, no official creed to recite, no spiritual résumé to hand in, no interview to ace before St. Peter lets us through the pearly gates. God simply offers life “without money and without price.” We’re invited to sit down at the table. And there, God sets before us “a feast of rich food” and “well-aged wines” for all people (Isa. 25:6).

No, this banquet of abundant life is not transactional; it is transformational. We taste and see that God is good and suddenly find ourselves filled with life’s abundance. And little by little, our vision is transformed, and we discover how much a part of God’s new creation we are, where “everything old has passed away” and “everything has become new!” (2 Cor. 5:17).

In today’s gospel reading (Matt. 14:13–21) Jesus looks out at a hungry crowd and tells them to sit down on the grass, to get close to the earth. He doesn’t divide them into groups or ask who deserves to eat. He doesn’t check income, social status, politics, race, gender identity, immigration status, belief system, or worthiness. He simply sees they are hungry, and he feeds them—all of them—and there is more than enough.

That feeding shows us God’s heart. God holds all people, and all creation, together in perfect integrity and provides all we need for abundant life. And when we start acting as if we are separate and disconnected from one another, God keeps working to reconcile us and bring us back together.

That reconciliation is what Jesus calls abundant life, a life fuller and better than anything we usually settle for. And when we join God’s reconciling work, we discover that the banquet for which we hunger is already set before us. It has been here all along. In our decision or intent to feast at that banquet, we find we are already being fed.

The gospel calls us to really look at the hungry world around us. Yes, people are hungry for food. People are also hungry for meaning, purpose, belonging, for what Joseph Campbell called “the rapture of being alive,” hungry to be truly valued for who they are. Our calling is to invite people to sit down together—without distinction or discrimination, no one left out—and share in God’s abundance, to get close to the earth and remember that we are one people drawn from the same source. So where do we begin?

We start small. Think of one relationship that needs some healing, one person with whom you want more honesty, trust, or connection. Then ask yourself: What is one vulnerable truth I hold but have not shared? Maybe it is an unmet need or a longing. Maybe it is sense of shame, or some hidden part of yourself that has been too fragile to share openly. This is not a time for listing grievances against the other person; it’s a time for opening to yourself a door to your deeper self.

Ask yourself: What truth do you embody that needs to be revealed? What are you really longing for? How could honesty help you move toward deeper connection? And what do you need in order to stay grounded and present in the conversation you’re about to have?

Then, when you’re ready and feel it’s safe, have the conversation face to face. But before you do, check your intention. Are you seeking not to win but to heal? Are you willing to be honest and open? Can you let this be a beginning, not the final word? After the conversation, notice what happened. What did you feel in your body? What shifted? What did you learn?

Healthy, honest relationships grow when both people are willing to wake up together. If both of you can remember that what you most want is understanding and love, that intention can guide the conversation and build trust, which is the groundwork of reconciliation..

A second practice is to pause and ask: What in me most wants to be understood right now? What needs attention, care, and curiosity? When we understand what is happening inside us, we can become more present to the person in front of us. So when you find yourself reacting to someone instead of responding, pause and take a breath. Ask yourself: What am I believing? What am I feeling? What do I need? When we can be aware of our fear and our unmet needs, we can communicate with more compassion and less blame, opening a way to reconciliation.

A third practice is to remember the other person’s goodness. Remember their sincerity, their struggles, the respect or affection that first connected you. Feelings of hurt and defensiveness can make our vision small and more constricted. Love—valuing the other person, remembering the other person’s goodness—helps us be more open and see more clearly.

Remembering goodness loosens the grip judgment has on us. It helps us step out of judgment and into relationship. It helps us hold the other person in a relationship of care. Every authentic relationship is a living thing. It grows over time as we learn to honor both the other person’s heart and our own.

If these practices are hard to remember, then remember this. Our Christian faith tells us there are only two kinds of people: neighbors, whom we are called to love, and enemies, whom we are also called to love. And love fulfills everything God requires of us (Rom. 13:10).

To gather around the holy feast we share at this table, the feast we call Holy Communion, is to meet together at the most basic level of our humanness, which involves our need not only for food but for each other. I need you to help fill my emptiness just as you need me to help fill yours, so the whole persons we are created to be can be revealed. As for the emptiness that’s left over, well, there’s an abundance left over, more than enough to share together. Maybe it’s most of what makes us human and makes us brothers and sisters.