Readings

Isaiah 25.6–10a – On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-matured wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-matured wines strained clear. And he 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 for ever. Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken. It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us. This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation. For the hand of the Lord will rest on this mountain.
The Moabites shall be trodden down in their place as straw is trodden down in a dung-pit.

Matthew 15.29–37 – After Jesus had left that place, he passed along the Sea of Galilee, and he went up the mountain, where he sat down. Great crowds came to him, bringing with them the lame, the maimed, the blind, the mute, and many others. They put them at his feet, and he cured them, so that the crowd was amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the maimed whole, the lame walking, and the blind seeing. And they praised the God of Israel. Then Jesus called his disciples to him and said, ‘I have compassion for the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat; and I do not want to send them away hungry, for they might faint on the way.’ The disciples said to him, ‘Where are we to get enough bread in the desert to feed so great a crowd?’ Jesus asked them, ‘How many loaves have you?’ They said, ‘Seven, and a few small fish.’ Then ordering the crowd to sit down on the ground, he took the seven loaves and the fish; and after giving thanks he broke them and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all of them ate and were filled; and they took up the broken pieces left over, seven baskets full.

Reflection

Our readings today from Isaiah and Matthew invite us to reflect on one of Scripture’s most hopeful images: God preparing a feast for His people.

Isaiah gives us a picture of God setting a banquet on a mountain—“a feast of rich food and well-aged wines.” It is more than a meal; it is a sign of renewal. Death is swallowed up, tears are wiped away, and the disgrace of God’s people is removed. It is a vision of God putting the world right.

In Matthew’s Gospel we see Jesus enacting that vision. He goes up a mountain, and there the lame, the blind, and the sick are brought to him. He heals them all. The crowd sees in Jesus the compassion and power of God that Isaiah longed for.

Then Jesus feeds the thousands gathered in the crowd. There is no grand feast—only seven loaves and a few small fish—but in his hands scarcity becomes abundance. Everyone eats until they are satisfied, and there are baskets left over. What Isaiah promised for the future, Jesus begins to fulfil in the present.

Both readings remind us that God gives what we cannot give ourselves: healing, hope, sustenance, and joy. The feast of God is always an act of grace and it highlights a few things for us about that feast:

First, it is inclusive. Isaiah speaks of “all peoples.” Matthew describes a crowd in Gentile territory. God’s welcome is wide; the table is open.

Second, the feast is abundant. Isaiah’s language is lavish, and Jesus’ miracle ends with leftovers. God’s generosity is not measured and cautious—it overflows.

Third, the feast is transformative Isaiah speaks of death undone; Jesus restores broken bodies. God’s grace meets us where we are, but it does not leave us there.

Yet Isaiah’s passage ends with a verse that jars: “The Moabites shall be trodden down in their place as straw is trodden down in a dung-pit.” At first hearing, it feels out of place in a vision of hope. It reflects a reality we see throughout the Old Testament: Expressions of longing for justice, often through the language of judgement on neighbouring nations who refused to believe and trust in God’s promises and to wait upon them.

For us, reading this as Christians, the verse is challenging. It reminds us that biblical hope often arises out of real human pain, fear, and conflict. Isaiah’s people had suffered; they longed for liberation. But in the light of Christ, we understand God’s final victory not as the crushing of other peoples, but as the reconciliation of all things in Him. Jesus fulfils the promise of the feast without mirroring the hostility of the age. The uncomfortable verse, therefore, becomes a reminder of how Christ transforms our understanding of God’s kingdom—from exclusion to embrace, from hostility to peace.

So, when we gather at the Lord’s Table, we stand in continuity with both Isaiah’s hope and Jesus’ compassion. Here we receive the foretaste of the feast to come—Christ feeding us with his own life. We are reminded that God’s kingdom is abundant, that his welcome is for all, and that his grace heals and restores.

And this feast shapes us. It calls us to be a people who reflect God’s generosity, who extend His welcome, who bring His healing hope into the ordinary places of our lives. What we receive in worship is meant to flow outward: to those who hunger, to those who grieve, to those who long for good news.

Isaiah looked ahead to a day when death would be no more and all peoples would gather at God’s table. Jesus begins that work among the hungry crowds. And we are invited into it—both as guests and as servants of the feast.

Amen.