And Jesus, having heard it, went away thence by ship to a desert place apart. And the crowds having heard [of it] followed him on foot from the cities.
The verse turns on a single piece of news: Herod has executed John the Baptist, and John's disciples bring word to Jesus. He then leaves by boat for an empty place, and crowds follow Him on foot — a move commentators read as sorrow, as care for tired workers, and as a turning point in the story.
John's followers came and told Jesus what had happened. One writer weighs what that news meant to Jesus Himself.
Dare we say it, with care and reverence? This dreadful thing done to the most honourable of His disciples was a very deep and personal sorrow to the Master. And this, though we know that the Master foresaw it and could have prevented it. We believe He would have prevented it, and would prevent every ill that comes upon us — except that He sees some reason to let many of them take their course.
What John's disciples did next sets a pattern for anyone carrying grief:
Have you been burying someone dear to you? And did you too go and tell Jesus, pouring out your sorrow into His sympathising ear? These disciples did. I can see two roads that day. On one come the sad disciples of John, who had lost their master. On the other come the disciples of Jesus, back from their first missionary tour and flushed with success. The two companies meet in the Lord's presence. The Lord says to them, "Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while." How morally lovely this call is! He makes it alike to successful workers and to disheartened disciples. Both needed it, but a desert with Jesus can be no desert.
One writer gives three reasons for the withdrawal, drawn from how the other Gospels tell the same event:
First, the Lord retired into the desert because of the murder of His witness, a sure sign of His own rejection and crucifixion. This showed that God's way of dealing with the nation was about to change. So the Lord takes a place outside and apart from the guilty nation… Second, He takes an outside place because of the service of His disciples… Their service had taken them into the world, and had created such a stir that "there were many coming and going." At such a time the servant needs to be drawn away from the restless spirit of the world, to be with Him and rest a while. The third reason appears in the gospel of Luke, where the Lord draws the disciples apart to teach them.
One writer rules out two wrong readings of the move — that Jesus was unmoved, and that He was afraid:
That act of Herod's, He did not resent. Nor did He use His power to raise His servant from the dead. But He departed privately with the twelve. Was He indifferent to the murder of John? By no means. In a future day He will show that He was not. Was He afraid of the power of Herod? His answer to some Pharisees in Luke 13:31-33 rules that out.
The killing of the messenger is read as the measure of what would be done to the One he announced. In Matthew's account, His step away from the nation's centres follows from it.
The world shown in the first two scenes cannot tolerate the presence of Christ, and is entirely unsuited to Christ. It rejects Christ and is rejected by Christ. The Lord accepts the murder of His Forerunner as the sure token of His own rejection, and, leaving country and court, "He departed… into a desolate place by Himself."
Yet the withdrawal is not the opening of judgment. One writer contrasts the scene with Belshazzar's feast, where writing appeared on the wall:
Herod's feast was full of worse things than the feast that drew out the handwriting of death on the wall, sealing the fate of Belshazzar and his kingdom. But there was no second handwriting. The Lord did not come to break the bruised reed, or to put out the smouldering wick. He did not come to punish Israel for their sin. So when He heard of this deed that stained their land, "He withdrew… to a desolate place by Himself." His spirit led Him away from the sight of the nation's sin… and He went on with His patient work of mercy through their land, though they were paying Him back evil for good, and hatred for His love.
Once He steps outside, the movement runs the other way: the crowds now come to Him.
It was not that the people stopped coming to the Lord, or that He stopped being gracious — He could not. But He now stood at a distance from them, and dealt with them at a distance, not as one among them and one of themselves. As He had come and been rejected, He went away — they had to seek Him now; He had sought them.
One writer sets Herod's court, described just before this verse, against the empty place Jesus chose:
Herod's court pictures the world… But the Lord is outside, and all who sought Him followed Him and joined Him in the desert… He is well able to support His own in the outside place.
The same pull works on us today:
Driven by their need and drawn by His grace, they follow Him into the path of separation. So with ourselves. We have needs as sinners and needs as saints, and no one in all this world can meet either one. As sinners we need a Saviour to free us from our sins and from all that lies on us as a fallen race. As believers we need an object to satisfy our hearts. So we are drawn to Him outside this world.
- Told — John's disciples buried their master, then went and told Jesus. Grief carried to Him is where the verse starts.
- Felt — the news was a deep personal sorrow to Him. He was not indifferent to John's murder, and not afraid of Herod.
- Outside — He took the death of His forerunner as the sure sign of His own rejection, and moved outside the nation's court and cities.
- Sought — the order reverses. He came and they rejected Him; now the crowds must seek Him, following on foot from the towns.
- Found — the desert changes nothing in His grace. Need drives, grace draws, and He is well able to support His own in the outside place.
And going out he saw a great crowd, and was moved with compassion about them, and healed their infirm.
Jesus has just heard that John the Baptist is dead. He withdraws to a quiet place, the crowds follow, and grief, rejection and mercy meet in one heart.
The withdrawal was not indifference. He felt what John's death meant, and what it pointed to:
There was no insensibility in Him, whatever His patience and grace. He felt the grievous wrong done to God and His testimony and His servant. It was the sign of a storm still more violent and a far darker deed of blood — the awful sin of His own rejection. He would not hurry the moment, but retires. He was a sufferer, a perfect sufferer, as well as a sacrifice.
In this verse Jesus comes out to the crowd; the crowd does not force its way to Him. Where the ESV has "when he went ashore", older translations read "Jesus went forth":
Coming to Him in the outside place we discover, like the needy crowds of old, His deep perfections. We see, as they did, that no one has to persuade Him to bless. He is willing and ready to bless, as we read "Jesus went forth" to meet them. The father ran to meet the returning son, and "Jesus went forth" to meet these needy souls.
The ESV says He "had compassion"; older translations read "moved with compassion". The word behind it is rare, and it points almost always to one Person:
The word translated compassion only occurs in Matthew, Mark and Luke. There are twelve references. It is used eight times of the Lord, once in a request made to Him, and twice in parables that speak of Him. The only other reference is in Luke 15:20, where it is used of the Father.
The word points to feeling at the deepest level inside a person. In Him that feeling carried more:
In the Scriptures the inward parts of the body always speak of the depth of inward feeling, both of the Saviour and the saints. Often we read of the Lord Jesus being "moved with compassion" when He saw the distress all around Him. He felt deeply within Himself what the sufferer was going through. But there was more than this: He expressed what the heart of God was feeling. We, as Christians, have to learn this if we are going to be effective in sympathising with others.
Evil in Israel was rising, and He felt it. That did not stop His love:
Did this deep sense in His spirit of the growing power of evil in Israel interrupt the course of His love? Far from it. Let murderous unbelief act as it may, He was Jehovah, present here below in humiliation, but in divine power and grace.
The healing left no one out. Even so, the crowd missed what it showed:
Matthew and Luke notice the healing of the sick, and not one of those who came or were brought to Him that day could say that their case was beyond relief. "He healed," writes Luke, "them that had need of healing" (Luke 9:11). Yet the crowd had not profited by those displays of miraculous power. They did not see who was there. They were ready to receive blessing for this life, but they did not seek spiritual blessing.
Herod had just killed a prophet. Jesus answered the same world with healing:
"And Jesus, moved with compassion" — nothing can exceed the beauty of this and what immediately follows. The Lord had just heard of, and no doubt sorrowed over, the death of John. At Nazareth, at the start of His ministry, people met Him with open violence. On His recent visit to His own city of Capernaum, people treated Him with rude contempt. Yet nothing could stop the outflow of heavenly grace. He had compassion on the crowds and healed their sick. It was the perfect contrast to Herod killing the prophet.
Rejection did not slow His grace. It drew more of it out:
It is beautifully precious that the day of His rejection is the day of His grace. The world's refusal does not discourage Him. Instead He will in effect increase the efforts of pure grace, longing for the true blessing of mankind.
- Grief. John's death struck Him hard; He withdrew because He felt it, not because He had stopped caring.
- Movement. Grief did not close Him off — He went forth to the crowd, needing no persuasion to bless.
- Depth. His compassion was feeling at the deepest level. In Him it voiced what God's own heart felt.
- Power. The feeling became healing: no case brought to Him that day was beyond relief — yet the crowd took the gift and missed who gave it.
- Reversal. The day of His rejection became the day of His grace — Herod killing a prophet, Christ healing a crowd.
But when even was come, his disciples came to him saying, The place is desert, and [much of] the [day] time already gone by; dismiss the crowds, that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.
John the Baptist is dead, Jesus has gone by boat to a lonely place, and the crowds have followed Him there on foot. Evening comes, thousands are hungry, and the disciples arrive with a plan that says more about them than about the problem.
The disciples call it a desolate place. One writer shows that this spot outside the towns is where the needy find Him.
In this outside place He becomes the attractive centre of the needy. "They followed Him on foot from the towns." Driven by their need and drawn by His grace, they follow Him into the path of separation. So with ourselves; we have needs as sinners and needs as saints, and no one in all this world can meet one need or the other.
On the surface the disciples sound practical and even kind. One writer asks what the disciples themselves would gain if the crowd left.
In Matthew 14 the move begins with the disciples, but it is to send the crowd away rather than to feed them. "Send the crowds away to go into the villages and buy food for themselves." This was a wretched impulse of their heart. It was, as we say, one word for the crowd and two for themselves; for they wanted to be by themselves, and felt the people were intruding.
The proposal is strange in itself: it points the crowd away from the one Person who can help. Hard circumstances push unbelief to give up. Faith reads them the opposite way.
"Send the crowds away!" — Away from Jesus? What a proposal! The size of the crisis, the urgency of the need, the difficulty of the circumstances — to unbelief these are so many reasons for men to do what they can. To faith they are so much the more the plea and occasion for the Lord to show what He is.
The disciples had a history to draw on and forgot it. One commentator names the root of their suggestion and shows what unbelief does to the heart.
"Send them away." What made the disciples say this? What was the real source of this selfish request? Simply unbelief. The One who long ago fed "600,000 men on foot" for forty years in the wilderness was standing among them. Had they only remembered that, they would have known He would not send a hungry crowd away… Unbelief darkens the understanding and shrinks the heart. Faith and love always go together, and as one grows, so does the other. Faith opens the floodgates of the heart and lets the tide of love flow forth.
The Lord will not let this crowd leave hungry. His refusal is itself a claim about who He is, tied to an old promise about David's throne.
In the evening His disciples beg Him to send the crowd away so they can buy food. He refuses. In doing so He gives a remarkable testimony that He Himself is the One who was to satisfy the poor of His people with bread (Psalm 132). Jehovah, the Lord, who established the throne of David, was there in the Person of Him who should inherit that throne.
The disciples had the power of Christ within reach. The test was whether they knew what to do with it.
The disciples wished to send the crowd away, not knowing how to use the power of Christ. They should have been able to use it for Israel's sake, in keeping with the glory of Him who was among them.
The crowd did go away in the end. But there are two ways to send a crowd away.
Then comes the feeding of the crowds, and the way the Lord sends them away. It is a very different sending away from what it would have been if the disciples had had their way. They would have sent them off to buy bread for themselves. Hungry thousands would have gone away as witnesses, so to speak, against Christ. He sent those many thousands away happy, satisfied, so many witnesses to the tenderness of His heart, and the divine glory of His person.
- Desert — Christ is outside the towns, in an empty place. That is where the needy find Him.
- Dismissal — "send them away" sounds practical. But it was one word for the crowd and two for themselves.
- Unbelief — they forgot the One who fed 600,000 for forty years in the wilderness. Unbelief shrinks the heart; faith opens it and love flows out.
- Jehovah — His refusal showed who He was: the One promised to satisfy His poor with bread.
- Filled — the crowd did leave in the end, but full instead of hungry. They went as witnesses to His tenderness, not against Him.
But Jesus said to them, They have no need to go give *ye* them to eat.
News of John the Baptist's death had just reached Jesus, and He withdrew by boat to a lonely place. The crowds followed on foot, and by evening the disciples wanted Him to send the hungry thousands away — but He turned the task back on them.
The disciples drew the sensible conclusion. One commentator hears in their proposal something they never meant to say:
"Send the multitude away!" — away from Jesus? What a proposal! Unbelief treats the great difficulty, the urgent need, and the hard circumstances as so many reasons for men to do what they can. To faith they are all the more a reason and an opportunity for the Lord to show what He is. "Jesus said to them, 'They need not go away; you give them something to eat.'" Oh, the dullness of man! — the folly and slowness of heart in disciples to believe it all.
He did send the crowd home, but not the way they meant:
They would have sent them away to buy bread for themselves. Hungry thousands would have gone off as witnesses, in a way, against Christ. He sent those many thousands away happy and satisfied. They were so many witnesses to the tenderness of His heart and the divine glory of His person.
The refusal turned on who was speaking, and on what He can do with very little:
They had to discover that His way was to use the tiny resources already in their hands, and multiply them until they were more than enough. The prophet said that the LORD would find His rest in Zion. Then His word would be, "I will abundantly bless her provisions; I will satisfy her poor with bread" (Ps. 132:15). The LORD was now among His people in the person of Jesus. There was no rest for Him in Zion at that time, yet He still proved what He could do with these five thousand men, besides women and children. He was dispensing the bounty of heaven.
There was no need to look elsewhere for bread. The empty place was where His own resources came out:
Man had corrupted everything and rightly lost it. The Lord takes that as His opportunity to bring out His own resources. Man's wilderness was Christ's storehouse.
He handed the task to the twelve, and He expected them to be equal to it:
Notice here that the Lord expects to find His twelve disciples able to be the instruments of His acts of blessing and power. They were to hand out the blessings of the kingdom according to His own power. "You give them something to eat," He said. This applies to the blessing of the Lord's kingdom, and to the twelve disciples of Jesus as its ministers. But it is also an all-important principle about the effect of faith in every intervention of God in grace. Faith should be able to use the power that acts in such an intervention.
The command exposed where their thoughts were. They answered with an inventory instead of a Person:
Here they do not think of Him for a moment. They think only of how far short their supplies fell for such a crowd. "Bring them here to me" ought to have reminded them of who they had with them.
The disciples counted. They counted the wrong thing:
"And they said to Him, We have only five loaves here and two fish." Ah! were they — are we — so blind as to overlook that the question is not what we have, but whom we have?
Commentators read the command as still standing over everyone who serves Him:
Let us think of this as we minister the things of God. It may be the gospel, or the ministry of His Word for building up believers. The Head of the Body entrusts everything to us. He Himself will minister through our ministry, if the heart rests on Him in faith. Faith looks away from circumstances and difficulties to a rich and gracious Lord in glory.
There is one condition attached to handing out bread, and it is personal:
"They need not go away; you give them something to eat." But before you give it, the bread must be your bread. It must be what you live on yourself, and out of that you minister. Nothing else is really yours. If Christ is not your daily portion, the One who satisfies you, how can you speak of Him or minister Him to others?
- Need. The disciples saw a desert, a late hour, and thousands of hungry people. Unbelief turned every difficulty into a reason to send them away from Christ.
- Presence. The One who promised to satisfy His poor with bread was standing among them. Man's wilderness turned out to be Christ's storehouse.
- Command. "You give them something to eat" was more than a rebuke. He meant His followers to be the hands through which His power reached the crowd.
- Question. Their answer counted loaves. The real question was never what they had, but whom.
- Ministry. He still says it to His servants — and the bread you hand out must first be the bread you yourself live on.
But they say to him, We have not here save five loaves and two fishes.
Jesus has just told the disciples to feed the crowd themselves. Their reply is a count of what they have, set against thousands of hungry people. Everything in the story turns on what that count leaves out.
Their answer is accurate arithmetic. What it misses is a Person standing in front of them.
They said to Him, "We have only five loaves here and two fish." Were they, and are we, so blind that we overlook this: it is not a question of what we have, but whom we have? Jesus means nothing to the flesh, even the flesh of disciples.
Their problem was not only a short supply.
It was not only that the disciples could not meet that need. They could not even trust the Lord to do so. Philip and the other disciples had come to the end of themselves. But sadly they had not come to the beginning of faith in their Master. So their ready advice was to send the crowds away. He said, "You give them something to eat." Then they discovered that all they had was five loaves and two small fish. Yet five barley loaves and two small fish and Christ were resources enough for any number, if only the disciples had known it.
Their reply is the natural language of the human heart. Faith asks a different question.
To faith it is either God or nothing. In the hand of God, and to the view of faith, a handful of flour provides materials as effective as the cattle on a thousand hills. "We have only five loaves here and two fish; but what are they for so many?" This is the language of the human heart. Faith never asks, what are these among so many? It asks, what is God among so many? Unbelief says we are not able; faith says, but God is well able.
There was a further weakness in the little they counted.
They did not even have the small supply themselves; it was in the hands of a little boy. How suggestive! It was little, very little that they had, and it was in the hands of a little boy, one who was weak. It is the same with ourselves and the little we have. We are blessed indeed if we do know how little is in our hands and how much is lacking. But let it not be in unbelief, thinking it is such a small amount that it cannot be used. Nothing is too small, nothing too little, if it is brought to Him; indeed, He has chosen the weak things.
He does not send them out to find more.
He said, "Bring them here to Me." Oh for more simplicity in bringing every lack and every small supply to Him! It is His place to provide — not for us only, but for all the demands of His love. Let us count on Him more regularly as One who cannot act beneath Himself.
The disciples saw an empty desert. It held the one supply that mattered.
He refuses to send the crowd away. In doing so He bears a remarkable testimony: the One who was to satisfy the poor of His people with bread (Psalm 132) was present in His own Person. Jehovah, the Lord who established the throne of David, was there in the Person of the One who would inherit that throne.
Commentators also see the loaves and the fish as pictures of Christ Himself.
Though we feel how little we have, yet having Christ, in Him there is more than enough for all mankind. The loaves speak of Him as the bread of life. The way bread is made implies suffering and death in various ways. The grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies. It grows up, then is cut down and threshed. Then it is ground in the mill, mixed with other ingredients, kneaded, and at last exposed to the heat of the fire. The fish too speak of Him as the One who has passed through the waters of judgment for us. When they are brought to Him and He blesses them, He makes them more than enough by a miracle.
- Little. The five loaves and two fish were a true count of all they had. Even that was in a boy's hands, not their own.
- Left out. Their reply measured need against supply. It left out the only figure that changes the total. The question is not what we have, but whom.
- Language. Unbelief asks what these are among so many; faith asks what God is among so many.
- Brought. The Lord does not bypass the small supply. He says bring it here, and the habit of carrying every shortage to Him is the whole lesson.
- Storehouse. The desert was not empty. The One who satisfies His poor with bread was standing in it. Man's wilderness became Christ's storehouse.
And he said, Bring them here to me.
The disciples have just weighed a crowd of thousands against five loaves and two fish. The Lord does not replace their small supply. He asks for it, and the whole question becomes where that little goes.
Just before this, the Lord had told the disciples to feed the crowd themselves. One writer reads that command as a lesson meant to show them their own weakness.
Christ is with them, and the disciples take the right course; they "come to Him." They turn to the One with perfect knowledge, infinite love, and divine power. He would have us realise our need. Harder still, He would have us realise our own utter weakness and complete inability to meet that need. To bring home to them their own weakness, the Lord can say, "Give them something to eat." At once they have to admit they have only five loaves and two small fish.
The disciples counted their supplies. They did not count the Person standing beside them.
Ah, were they — are we — so blind as to overlook that it is not a question of what we have, but of whom we have? Jesus means nothing to the flesh, even the flesh of disciples.
The same writer hears the weight of this command falling on one word.
So at once the Lord says, "Bring them here to Me" — ME — the One who knows, who loves, and who has the power to meet the need. And still He is saying, "Bring them here to Me" — in all our difficulties, our trials, our sorrows, our exercises and our failures. He invites us to come to Him in all our weakness.
Israel had once been fed in a wilderness too. Another writer hears that history behind the Lord's words.
The disciples are angry. They have only a few loaves and fish. How could they spread a table for such a crowd? Here was a further exposure of their bad hearts. There was no faith there, as there was no love there. They knew nothing but the obvious supply in their basket — loaves and fish. They did not count on having Christ Himself among them. Jesus silently rebukes this. "Bring them here to Me" — as if to say: You have more in your company than loaves and fish. You have the God of the desert, who once fed your fathers there for forty years.
The Lord did not need their basket. Yet He asked for it.
They did not even have the small supply themselves — it was in the hands of a little boy. How suggestive! It was very little that they had, and it was in the hands of a boy, someone weak. It is the same with ourselves and the little we have. Blessed are we indeed if we do know how little it is that is in our hands, and how much is lacking. But do not let that turn into unbelief, thinking it is too small for Him to use. Nothing is too small, nothing too little, if it is brought to Him; yes, He has chosen the weak things. "Bring them here to Me" is His command. What condescension! He does not despise the little we have. He does not set it aside when displaying His power. It would have been easy for Him to speak just one word in that desert place. Bread would have fallen on the ground again for the crowds to gather.
The same writer turns the command into questions for the reader.
"Bring them here to Me" — and do we always bring what we have to Him? Is every service first brought to Him for blessing? Are all our undertakings really brought to Him — our little, our all, put at His disposal? If we bring it to Him He will bless it, and with His blessing we can go out to serve others. There can be, and will be, no lack in such service when it depends on Him.
The basket that proved their poverty became the material of the miracle.
How blessed is the result! First, all are brought to rest. Then He takes the very things that were the witness of their weakness. He brings earth's weakness into touch with heaven's fullness. The people were not only fed but filled, and twelve baskets full remained. His grace can meet our need, but our need will never exhaust His grace.
- Emptied first. His earlier command showed the disciples how little they had. That discovery is what makes "bring them here" possible.
- Brought, not counted. They measured the loaves instead of the Person present. It is not a question of what we have, but of whom.
- Brought to Me. The weight falls on one word: Me — the One who knows, loves, and has power. That invitation still stands in every difficulty and failure.
- Brought as it is. He does not despise the little or set it aside. He could have made bread fall to the ground again, but He chose a boy's basket.
- Brought back full. The things that proved their weakness came back as more than enough. Our need will never exhaust His grace.
And having commanded the crowds to recline upon the grass, having taken the five loaves and the two fishes, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and having broken the loaves, he gave [them] to the disciples, and the disciples [gave them] to the crowds.
The crowd is far from any village, the day is nearly gone, and all the disciples can produce is five loaves and two fish. Every detail of what follows counts: where the people sat, where the Lord looked, and whose hands carried the bread.
The whole miracle turns on a small supply placed in His hands. One writer sets it beside a widow whose only asset was a pot of oil:
The Lord takes the five loaves and the two fish and, looking up to heaven, blesses them. He brings the disciples' little into touch with heaven's plenty, and it more than meets the needs of the crowd. It is the same with the widow's pot of oil. Brought into touch with the power of God in grace, it will more than meet her need.
He does not rush. The One who fed Israel in the desert now gives public thanks before He breaks a single loaf:
The Lord Jesus soon showed everyone that He was the God who gave Israel the manna in the desert (Ex. 16). Order is stamped on all His ways, whether in creation or in grace. "God is not a God of confusion." But before He worked this stupendous miracle, He gave public thanks for the food He was about to hand out (Matt. 14:19). What a wonderful combination in one Person: human dependence and almighty divine power!
This was not a one-off; He looked up at other moments of need too. The look belongs with the prayer He taught His disciples:
He raised His eyes to heaven, as He did when He healed the deaf and mute man (Mark 7:34), and when He came to the grave of Lazarus (John 11:41). This was an attitude of prayer and heavenly communion (John 17:1). He had taught His disciples to pray, "Our Father in heaven … Give us this day our daily bread."
This meal keeps an old promise. A prophet had said what the LORD would do for His people:
The prophet said that the LORD would find His rest in Zion. Then His word would be, "I will abundantly bless her provisions; I will satisfy her poor with bread" (Ps. 132:15). The LORD was now among His people in the person of Jesus. There was no rest for Him in Zion at that time, yet He proved what He could do with these five thousand men, besides women and children. He was handing out the bounty of heaven — that is why He looked up to heaven as He blessed.
The seating is part of the lesson. What the people sit on carries meaning:
The Lord told the crowd to sit down by companies on the green grass. 1 Peter 1:24 tells us that "all flesh is like grass." So the flesh was now subdued under them, and all fleshly activity stopped. They were ready to receive freely what the Lord alone could freely give. It was all done in order, in groups of hundreds and fifties. That fits the wisdom of Him who is a God of order.
The bread travels a set route from His hands to the crowd:
He blessed and broke the bread. The broken bread went first into the hands of the disciples, and after they received it they gave it to the people. This is the divine order of ministry. He blesses the little handed over to Him. We receive from Him first, and what we receive from His hands we can pass on to others.
He could have skipped them. Using them was a deliberate choice, and it shows how He treats servants who fail Him:
How constantly we find the Lord returning good for their evil! He puts honour on the poor disciples, who so little appreciated His feelings of love and compassion. He does not hand the bread to the people Himself, as though He made no account of His servants. He meant to show His disciples that the love of Christ delights to work through human channels. … Yet Jesus alone was the source of it all. The disciples were to be the channels, both learning and teaching what grace could do to them, and through them.
- Little. Five loaves and two fish stay small until they reach His hands. In touch with heaven's plenty, the disciples' little more than meets the need.
- Lifted. He looks up before He acts. He gives thanks for the food first, and in one Person human dependence meets almighty divine power.
- Promised. He was handing out the bounty of heaven. He is the LORD who promised to satisfy His poor with bread.
- Ordered. The people sit on the grass in ranks before anything is handed out. Flesh is stilled, and each one is ready simply to receive.
- Passed on. He blesses, breaks, and gives to the disciples, and they give to the crowds. That is the order of ministry: receive from His hands first, then hand on.
And all ate and were filled, and they took up what was over and above of fragments twelve hand-baskets full.
Matthew ends the feeding of the five thousand not with the miracle but with the leftovers. Two questions follow: why count the scraps at all, and why twelve baskets?
The verse moves in three steps. One writer finds the same three steps in the story of Ruth, then applies them here:
There is an ascent marked here: she ate, but she might only have eaten enough to quiet her hunger for a little while. She was satisfied: all her hunger was met and she wanted no more. This would suggest a supply enough for her own case, but beyond her need there was enough for the needs of others; she left some over. We are reminded again of the crowd fed by our Lord... This is the way of grace; there is always an abundance beyond our need, no matter how great that need may be.
Ordinary arithmetic does not work here. One writer draws a present-day lesson from that:
Here is the miracle. The little was not only enough for all, but more was left over at the end than they had at the beginning. His blessing was not only on the little, so that it reached all; He blessed it in such a way that from it came an abundant increase. It is no different now in the ministry of spiritual things. The more we give out, having received from Him, the greater the increase and possession for us in the end.
Herod's murderous hatred has just been on display, and the meal happens out in the desert. God had promised Zion, "I will abundantly bless her provisions; I will satisfy her poor with bread." One writer hears that promise in this scene:
In nothing does He depart from grace, despite the recent display of murderous hatred in Herod... Should they not have concluded for certain who and what He was? The Lord had chosen Zion. He had desired it for His dwelling. He had said, "This is My resting place forever; here I will dwell, for I have desired it." But now an Edomite was there, the slave of a greedy Gentile ruler... Still, the rejected One spreads a table in the wilderness, abundantly blesses Zion's provision, and satisfies her poor with bread. The miracle may not be the fulfilment of Psalm 132, but it is the witness that He was there who could, and yet will, fulfil it.
The Gospels use two different Greek words for "basket":
One word, spyris, means a hamper. It is used for the seven baskets of fragments left after the four thousand were fed. When the five thousand were fed there were twelve baskets of fragments, but it was then the kophinos, a hand basket... The two perfect numbers seven and twelve show the inexhaustible supply the Lord furnishes when His purpose is to bless His own.
Twelve is also the number of the disciples who carried the baskets. One writer draws two applications from it:
In Scripture the number twelve often stands for divine administration through human hands, as with the twelve disciples. We may apply this to what was then close at hand. The disciples were being fitted to go out into the world with a basket each, filled with the good things of God. Here they carried His bounty to the hungry crowd. That service was a fitting introduction to the great work they were called to after He had gone on high... We may also give the miracle a distant application. In it we may see the time of Israel's full blessing, in the day of their deliverance, with that blessing overflowing to the nations.
One writer notes who ate the leftovers, and what the gathering teaches:
He who wielded almighty power allowed no waste, and here sets before His people an example of thrift. The people were satisfied first, and the twelve baskets of fragments proved it. The disciples gathered up in them enough for their own next meal.
- Satisfied — the crowd did not just eat. Every one of them had enough, and no one wanted more.
- Surplus — grace gives past the point of need. More food remained at the end than the five loaves and two fish at the start.
- Identity — the surplus shows who was there. The One who promised to satisfy Zion's poor with bread did it in a desert, because His own nation had rejected Him.
- Twelve — a basket each for the twelve who carried it. Writers see in them both the disciples' coming work and Israel's blessing still to come.
- Nothing lost — endless supply was no excuse for waste. The disciples gathered the pieces, and those pieces fed them next.
But those that had eaten were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
The verse ends the feeding of the crowd with a headcount. That number measures the miracle, and it presses the question the chapter is driving at: who can feed a crowd that size from five loaves and two fish?
The word behind "besides" matters. One writer compares two Greek words. The stronger one would mean the women and children were not there at all. The word used here only leaves them out of the count:
The first word means total absence or non-existence; the second means only separation, being apart... So Matthew 14:21 and Matthew 15:38 may not deny the presence of women and children, as aneu would, but do not count them.
So five thousand is the floor, not the ceiling.
A crowd that size from a lunch that small has no natural explanation. One writer presses that point against those who reject miracles:
Such a person must also deny that our Lord multiplied five loaves and two small fish, and by that satisfied the hunger of five thousand men, besides women and children (Matt. 14:21). In all of human history, was it ever heard that a mere handful of food could be multiplied like this? Was this not above nature?
The meal takes place against a backdrop of rejection. Israel's own King was unwanted, and He fed them anyway:
Jehovah had chosen Zion — had desired it for His habitation... But now an Edomite ruled there, the slave of a greedy Gentile power; and the people wanted it that way... Still, the rejected One spreads a table in the wilderness, richly blesses Zion's provision, and satisfies her poor with bread... He is the Messiah, but the rejected Messiah, as ever in our Gospel.
Rejection did not shut down His kindness.
First the Lord told His disciples to feed the crowd themselves. They answered by counting what they had:
The Lord was testing their faith in Him: "You give them something to eat." But no — they had no faith. They began to count up their own resources: "We have no more than five loaves and two fish." So it is with us. No faith! Memory is not faith... Unbelief shuts out God, and limits itself to what it sees.
The answer is simple: take the shortage to Him.
How we need more simplicity in bringing every lack and every small supply to Him! It is His to provide — not for us only, but for everything His love requires. We should count on Him more steadily as One who cannot act beneath Himself.
Everyone ate their fill, and twelve baskets of scraps remained — more than they started with. The leftovers tell us about the Host, not just the meal:
This tells the wealth of the Lord of the feast, as well as His kindness... If we draw on someone else's generosity, and have reason to fear we have taken what he needed himself, our enjoyment fades... But when we know that behind the table spread for us there are stores in the house, such fears have no place.
A small supply fed thousands. One writer applies that to everyone who serves others:
No wonder they were astounded that five thousand men (besides women and children — Mt. 14:21) were fed from so small a supply. But the same is true spiritually. What we present to others of Christ God will multiply beyond anything we could imagine.
- Miracle. A mere handful of food fed thousands. Nothing in nature explains it.
- Count. The count reached five thousand men. Women and children were there too, but no one added them in — so the crowd was bigger than the number suggests.
- Person. Their host was the rejected Messiah. He spread a table in the wilderness and satisfied His poor with bread.
- Hands. He fed the crowd through His disciples' five loaves. He was testing whether their faith would draw on Him instead of on their own arithmetic.
- Plenty. Everyone ate their fill and twelve baskets remained. Behind the table there are stores in the house — and what we hand out of Christ, God multiplies beyond our imagining.