Wine in the Wilderness
by J. Ellsworth Kalas
I learned something from David the other day. Not my son, though he also teaches me from time to time, but this time from the biblical David. For many years since I was eleven I have read the Bible through in its entirety during the year (“three chapters a weekday and five on Sunday”); other years I’ve read only the New Testament or some special translation such as Robert Alter‘s “Five Books of Moses.”
Since January, 2012, however, I’ve been reading just a few verses a day and putting into my computer some things that have informed, blessed, or chastened me. Every day I’m astonished by things I’ve missed in earlier years of reading. No new doctrines, mind you and nothing startling enough to bless the ages, but big enough to stir my own soul. That’s pretty good when you’re dealing with a soul as old as mine.
A few weeks ago I was in Second Samuel. That’s almost straight narrative, you know; it doesn’t stretch the intellect like the Pauline epistles or the prophets or Psalms. But still, there it was. David was fleeing Jerusalem, not knowing what the future held, when Ziba, servant of Mephibosheth, brought supplies for David’s loyal but besieged entourage: bread, raisins, figs, and a jar of wine. “The wine,” Ziba explained, “is for those who get exhausted in the wilderness” (2 Samuel 16:2).
I have mixed feelings about this man Ziba, and I don’t know much about wine, but I do know something about exhaustion in the wilderness. As a pastor I watched over many souls who were traveling there, and several, God have mercy, who seemed to have taken up permanent residence in that hard place. And of course I’ve had wilderness days of my own, too.
My memory went like a motion picture all the way back to the Helping Hand Mission, the little Methodist church where I spent the first thirteen years of my life. I remember Denny Cunningham, a soul plucked from hell. When he took the cup of communion, he swallowed it as if dying from thirst. Even then I sensed the passion of his draught. As a pastor I loved every minute of offering the cup as I passed along the altar. These were my people. In some cases I knew their wilderness; as for others, I thought they lived in Beulah land, but of course I didn’t know what a private wilderness they walked day after day.
I think often of the classic story from the Scottish church, where people had to pass the test if they were to receive the sacrament, and of a woman of dubious character who hesitated before taking the cup. Her pastor said, “Tak’ it, woman. It’s for sinners.” It is, indeed. It’s for people in the wilderness — some of them there through no fault of their own, and some because foolishly they’ve stumbled on the way to the promised land.
Whatever, I’m glad for the wine for those who get exhausted in the wilderness. I thank God that our Gospel offers such a cup. And I’m glad for David and Ziba, who reminded me of it.
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Thank you Dr. Kalas of reminding me of the love of God through the sacrament of Communion that we are NOT alone in this journey. We may experience the wilderness and it may be tough at times, but God is ALWAYS at our side.
Thank you, Melissa. You’ve gotten the point and made it your own — and that’s gratifying to the writer. God bless!
Ellsworth Kalas