Aug. 3, 2014
Matthew 14:13-21

You do it. You give them something to eat. You look upon these people with compassion. You help them. You do it.

That’s the message the stood out for me as I read our gospel passage today.

Of course, there are thousands of people there. The disciples are small in number and they have barely enough even to feed themselves. On a certain obvious, practical level they simply cannot do what Jesus is commanding.

The disciples have looked upon these massive crowds and they’ve said to Jesus, “Send them away. It is getting late. They need to buy some food.” One of my commentaries suggests that though Jesus acts, as the story says “out of compassion,” the disciples may be acting out of fear. Their words, “Send them away,” are more than a solution to a situation that may soon get out of hand; rather, they are a confession of the disciples’ powerlessness in the face of large-scale need. What difference can we make? What can we really and truly do?

Did you know that this story is the only miracle story that gets repeated by all four gospels? Most biblical scholars would argue that this is an indication of the story’s centrality and significance in the life of the early church. There’s even some evidence that the story was read every time the church gathered together in celebration of Communion. There are some different theories as to why story was so particularly important, and maybe there’s some truth to all of them. But, here’s my theory: This passage models for us the flow of Christian worship and therefore the flow of Christian living. There is the gathering of the people. There is the receiving of Christ’s compassion and presence. There is the responding of the faithful by sharing what little they had and giving it over to Christ. And then there is the miracle of what Christ does with their gifts as he commissions his followers to be messengers and sharers of that miracle.

If you look closely at the order of worship in your bulletins you’ll see that this is exactly how our service is patterned. The section headings give it away. Just as the gospel story comes to its climax with Jesus turning the disciples offering of five loaves and the two fish into a huge feast and a symbol of the abundant love of God, our service comes to a climax at the same place. We offer our money and we ask God to turn it into ministry. We offer our bread and our juice and we ask God to turn it into the very presence of Christ. We offer our lives and we ask for that same miraculous transformation. At least, that’s the intent.

We used to have a lecture series at Huntington where I used to get local seminary professors to come to the church and share with people about their various areas of expertise. A couple of years ago professor of pastoral care and theology spoke with us about her time with Christians in war-torn communities of Sudan. The horrors these people witnessed and the losses they experienced were beyond heart breaking. Their worship reflected their grief and gave voice to it, but the tone always shifted when it came time for the offering. The offering was a time for celebration (if you can imagine!) People sang out. They danced in the aisle. They came up to the altar and they gave what they had; they gave what they possibly could. They gave with joy and gratitude because in this very broken and often overwhelming world what better thing is there to do than to put yourself, put your gifts and your giftedness, into the hands of our maker and our savior?

Now, here my mind goes to a number of different places. It goes to the story of a preacher who accidentally showed up at church on a work day. He was going to write his sermon, but instead they called him up to the roof to lay tar all day and endure remarks like, “I didn’t know you could do real work? Need me to show you how to hold that brush? I thought you only worked one day a week!” Of course, they were just teasing, but their teasing prompted a bit of reflection. He writes, “I haven’t been able to shake the fear that the people were right – that in some ways church work [ministry] is a way for me to avoid rolling up my sleeves and doing real work. Maybe that’s true for other ministers. Maybe it’s true for church people. We Christians are tempted to believe that our job is to describe the work that needs to be done, share this knowledge with another and then keep our sleeves buttoned.”[i]

I wonder if that’s the case. Do we use our faith to justify a certain degree of work avoidance? Does our faith, ironically enough, keep us from giving ourselves to God or from hearing Christ say those words, “You do it! You give them something to eat!”?… because it’s easier when faith is simply about believing the right things?

My mind also goes to a Richard Rhor reflection that was emailed to me during the week. It’s entitled “Letting Go,” and it begins with a quote from Robertson Davies. “One learns one’s mystery at the price of one’s innocence.” Our mystery is good. It is soul and beauty and sacred design. Our innocence is a lie. It keeps us dignified and presentable. It bolsters us, albeit falsely, until we are able to fully own who we really are and give it all over to God. I wonder, however, if we’re somewhat afraid that what we have to give deep down may not be enough – if our deficiencies, flaws, sins, whatever we call them, keep us from offering ourselves in such a way that we’ll know the grace of being received.

Finally, my mind goes to the impossible situations that are all over the news these days: to terrorizing violence and perpetual injustice in the middle east, to immigration concerns and the plight of so many who will risk so much to escape the brutal realities into which they were born. The problems are impossibly complex, and no doubt, enduring solutions are beyond our power. I imagine that our temptation is to feel the way the disciples did. “Send them away Jesus, because, you see, there isn’t a ton that we can do about it.”

But then again, Jesus doesn’t ask for a ton. And, he doesn’t ask for a miracle. He asks for what we have to give, and as always, the miracle is his to offer. “See the need, give me what you have, and I will work through you and in you.   Keep it exactly that simple for now.”

[i] Younger, Brett, Tar Wars, The Christian Century, July 26, 2005, page 9.