06 Aug SUNDAY, AUGUST 6, 2023
Jesus took the five loaves and two fish, looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, gave them to his disciples and they in turn gave them to the crowds. The first thing I want to say is, “Thanks be to God that the church decided to use bread and wine for communion rather than bread and fish, lol. I’m not a big fan of dried fish.”
The verse, “Jesus wept,” is frequently quoted as a way to say that Jesus grieved as we do. In today’s passage it’s also clear that Jesus is feeling a certain way after hearing about the beheading of John the Baptist, his cousin. He withdraws from where he was staying by way of boat and travels to a deserted place by himself. He did not seek out John’s disciples who had come to retrieve John’s body and bury it as a way to either comfort them or seek companionship. He went to a deserted place by himself.
Many of us have retreated from the company of others after losing a loved one. For a time, it may help, but others have found that doing so only compounds feelings of loneliness. Regardless, retreating from the company of others for a time can serve a purpose. By isolating ourselves in deserted places, we are reminded that being bereaved is in itself, a deserted place: a place no one wants to go or be precisely because it is void of the presence of a person we loved who has died.
Retreating from the company of others after losing a loved one allows the power of our emotions to intensify while there. The depths of our grief and the sorrow of being separated permits us to stand alone in our pain, to see what we are going through reflected in the barren environment around us. Our loss can be acknowledged fully as we are steeped like a tea bag in hot water, contained in a boat by ourselves, alone with grief, our emotions coloring the landscape and permeating our view.
The story goes, “But when the crowds heard it,” heard what? That Jesus was grieving, surely not. They probably only heard that he had gone away to a deserted place by himself. What they wanted was him, not to comfort or console him, so they followed on foot from the towns. Like children with needs who demand attention, they sought his presence.
To get what we need, we must offer ourselves to the service of others. Don’t we find this to be true? By focusing on the needs of others, it seems as though it becomes rarer to find ourselves alone or wanting.
We don’t know why Jesus returned and went ashore. Perhaps he’d spent enough time in a deserted place. We only know that it became unsatisfactory to remain adrift alone.
Facebook has downsides, for sure. But the greatest upside is that it solves one aspect of feeling adrift alone. Posting about one’s personal joy, sorrow or concern will likely draw a crowd. Like in Jesus’ time, people need their paths to cross. They need to meet in a common place and connect or share what it’s like to be them, to live, laugh, love and lose love. At best, doing so can elicit support, encouragement, compassion and healing. At worst, it can cause more harm, pain or grief. We were made to express our needs and find others willing to respond.
In response to people’s needs, Jesus responds with compassion and cures their sick. He doesn’t engage with them to socialize or have his needs met, but in response to their needs. But by doing so, he finds himself no longer isolated, focused on death or worried about his own suffering.
Jesus knew that the best, most comforting distractions are not selfish. They ultimately provide benefits to more than just ourselves as a win-win. When the disciples sacrificed their dinner, they did not go without in order to feed the masses. Everyone, including them, ate and were filled.
Most often, we pursue distractions that momentarily satisfy like the taste of favorite foods or the acquisition of things. It’s incredibly hard to resist what is somewhat satisfactory and relatively easy. But as Facebook demonstrates, anything easy to do that takes little time or can be done repeatedly that releases endorphins is superficial and temporary. To find lasting happiness or fulfillment, we must share and offer healing in real, tangible ways, like Jesus did when he cured the sick and offered food to the hungry, showing generosity and hospitality to strangers.
To get what we need, we must offer ourselves to the service of others. Don’t we find this to be true? By focusing on the needs of others, it seems as though it becomes rarer to find ourselves alone or wanting.
We can’t fault the disciples for being logical and pragmatic. They looked around and realized there was no Sheetz around and Denny’s Lennies was closed because the hour was late. It made sense to say, “Send the crowd away so they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”
They sound like me when I’m not feeling generous and wish people would care for themselves rather than expect others to respond to their needs. I think, “Let them spend their own money, buy their own food, go elsewhere so they can get what they need rather than look for handouts.” Disciples in the Bible often do a good job of representing a viewpoint in contrast to what Jesus envisions.
It was evening and had been a long day. Perhaps the disciples were protective of Jesus knowing he was upset about John. Surely he’d done enough or dealt with enough for one day; the disciples had. The crowd had tracked Jesus down, arrived and not gone away. It seemed as though everyone had nothing better to do than stay longer. Wasn’t it enough to have their sick loved ones cured. What’s so wrong with letting them depart with gladness? The disciples shot themselves in the foot by pointing out that soon, the people would have other needs. If the disciples were getting hungry, so would other folks.
As evening and dinner time approached, when the disciples suggested the crowd be invited, perhaps escorted, elsewhere, Jesus did not scold them. He merely stated that they need not go away and further instructed the disciples to give them something to eat.
Imagine complaining about your neighbor’s yard needing mowing and then being told, “Well then, you mow it.” Or you complained about something your spouse or children failed to do. By stating the problem aloud, all of a sudden it becomes your problem.
How would you like that? As a plain, ordinary way of defending themselves, the disciples state the obvious: a lack of personal resources to solve the problem. “We don’t have enough. We have nothing here but…” We only have “x” amount of money in the bank, our wallet or purse. Whatever we have is already earmarked or set aside for our use.
With nothing to spare, we tell Jesus our response. And what does Jesus say? “Well, give me what you have. Bring it here to me.” By handing over that portion of a thing we claim as ours to possess, be it money, food, or property, Jesus will take and multiply it. He knows he can and does.
It’s no magic trick or uncertain gamble. He orders the crowds to sit down on the grass. Imagine everyone mingling around among the tiers of the Farm Show Complex: each individual, family or friend group previously headed toward a refreshment stand, public restroom, or souvenir booth is called back over the loudspeakers and large screens. “Everyone stop what you’re doing and take a seat, please. Any seat. Don’t worry about finding your ticket or assigned section. Right now, it’s general seating. No one can purchase preferred seats because they’re willing or able to pay.
Jesus has literally leveled the field. The needs of the crowd are all the same. No one in particular is sick. Everyone is hungry. Jesus has what each and everyone of them needs and in order to provide for all, he has asked his disciples to bring what they have to him.
Can you think of a reason why this one miracle out of dozens Jesus performed is the only one that ends up being told in each of the four gospels?
Taking the five loaves and two fish, he looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples. You see? What the disciples gave to Jesus was given back to them. What they received from him was more than they could personally use. What was given to them was not to be stored or put away, but given away so that all ate and were filled.
Can you think of a reason why this one miracle out of dozens Jesus performed is the only one that ends up being told in each of the four gospels? It was centuries until books of the Bible, as we know them, were compiled into one. For some reason, as the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John circulated, each was found to contain this one miracle though each gospel was unique in other ways.
Why make this miracle the common thread, the story that shines light upon Jesus’ desire to give people what they need: his presence among them, healing within and between them, patience shown to them, space provided for them, courtesy and consideration for their basic needs?
Five thousand men, not including women and children in Jesus’ time, amounted to about ten percent of the entire population of Jerusalem. The crowd offered nothing but themselves in exchange for what they were given. How can God be so generous when the crowd had the audacity to bring their kids and relatives, too? How can God be so generous knowing that their contribution amounts to no more than showing up in want, being the ones who pursue getting their needs met, and are willing to hang out all day as if nothing else matters. Imagine being oriented that way, not concerned with the time, content to just be. As I observe some of the homeless regulars in Harrisburg, I admire their social skills and adaptable behavior.
I wouldn’t want to depend on passersby for handouts or wait until I collected enough money to buy what’ll make me feel better, satisfied, or full in any regard. I wouldn’t want to associate with just anybody who showed up on my street corner or block, share beverages or food communally, or accept charity from strangers. Does the crowd in this story also teach us how to appreciate or admire their way of being: willing to sit wherever they can find a seat versus someone like myself who would rather show my ticket to an usher who will kindly grant me the privilege of finding my reserved seat?
Today, true to Psalm 145, we see the Lord being gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love by being good to all. He lifts up those who are bowed down by sickness and sees the eyes of all waiting upon him for food in due season, satisfying the desire of every living thing, except the shortsighted ways of his disciples. Let us pray.
You are righteous in your ways, loving in all your works and near to all who call upon you faithfully, who cry and wish to be healed and saved. Thank you for watching over us, for sharing our joys, periods of grief and concern. May we always look to you for answers, be willing to offer what we have, and become a blessing to the masses so that every mouth may be full and speak praise to God’s holy name forever. In your holy name we pray, Amen.