Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself.
Our scripture readings often start this way, with a transitional phrase. “When Jesus heard this…”
It’s annoying, because it implies that what he did next was motivated or inspired by or caused in some way by what came before… in this case, some bit of news that he heard.
But what was it that he heard?
What Jesus heard was some terrible, awful, devastating news. News that was so bad, that he just needed to go off by himself for a while.
Have you heard any terrible, awful, devastating news lately?
Yeah.
****** Almost every day. Right?
War. Shootings. Climate change causing more intense wildfires and storms. Inflation. Incomes that aren’t keeping up with the cost of living, forcing us to get by on less… ICE abductions and killings of innocent people. Corruption in government and even the church. (Corruption in the church—any kind of church—always gets me down)
Maybe something more personal. Ginger & I recently got the news that a close friend was on that boat that capsized in San Francisco bay last month. She survived, but both her parents and her aunt did not.
That is terrible, awful, devastating news.
Maybe you’ve experienced a similar tragedy in your life, or in the life of someone you know. Maybe a deadly car crash. Maybe something else: an unwanted health diagnosis. Maybe a loss of employment or other financial challenge.
The news that Jesus received—his terrible, awful, devastating news—was that his cousin John—John the Baptist—the one who baptized him and whose ministry was a precursor to Jesus’ own ministry…
…was dead.
John had been brutally beheaded by Herod Antipas, ruler of the region.
And so, upon hearing this terrible, awful, devastating news, Jesus withdrew. He headed out in a boat by himself, to some deserted place by himself, to be alone.
But he wasn’t by himself for very long.
Let’s hear the rest of the scripture…
…when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd, and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.
When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.”
Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.”
They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”
And he said, “Bring them here to me.”
Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and blessed and broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds.
And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.
So: Jesus’ time alone didn’t last. The crowds followed him. In fact, traveling on foot, it seems they reached the opposite shore before he did. They were already there when he came ashore.
Was Jesus disappointed by that? I don’t know.
Eight years ago, when I got the phone call letting me know that my mom had died unexpectedly, I was in the middle of a multi-day substitute teaching job. It was late in the day when I got the call, and I tried calling the school to let them know that my mom had just died and that they would need to find someone else to teach the next day.
Because mom had just died, I thought that I wanted to be alone.
But the school office was already closed for the day.
After talking with my sisters, I realized there wasn’t really anything for me to do the next day, anyway. So I went in and taught.
And it was good. The high school students I was teaching weren’t perfect, but they were good kids—something I could say about all the kids I taught, really—and being with them actually helped me get through that day.
I thought I wanted to be alone. It ended up that, on that day at least, I needed to be with those students. I needed them, as much as they needed me.
Jesus didn’t get his alone time. Instead, when he reached the shore, he was met by a crowd of people, who all needed something from him.
These people were poor. Poor in body, poor in spirit, and poor in terms of financial wealth.
They were disillusioned. Rome had taken everything, including all their hope.
They were mourning—mourning their once great nation, now oppressed and subjected to foreign occupation.
They were hungry—hungry for food, but also hungry for hope, hungry for even the smallest sign that things might one day be better.
In other words, they were just as sad and devastated and forlorn as Jesus himself was.
Maybe even more so, since Jesus, at least, knew that God’s kingdom was at hand: the “kingdom of heaven,” in which there is hope, and joy, and peace, and love; the kingdom where those with broken hearts and broken bodies find healing; the kingdom where the hungry are fed.
******From the day he was baptized by John, Jesus had proclaimed “Repent!” A word that means, “change your hearts and your lives!”
“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!”
And Jesus knew that nothing—not John’s death at the hands of Rome, not the people’s misery at the hands of Rome, and not anything else—would keep God’s kingdom from coming.
And he, Jesus, needed to let the people know this. He needed to tell them. And he needed to show them.
******So there, in that lonely, deserted place on the far side of the lake, Jesus showed the people his compassion, and he healed those who were sick, and he comforted those who needed comforting.
After all that, because they had been there a long time, the people got hungry.
So Jesus fed them.
They didn’t have much. Their resources were slim and scant. A quick inventory found that they had nowhere near enough to meet their need.
Just five loaves of bread, and two fish.
Which, to the disciples, was more terrible, awful, devastating news.
Given that everything Jesus was doing was meant to demonstrate the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of (among other things) God’s abundance… to have a large crowd of people with no food to eat kinda goes against that whole message.
And it makes me think about the church today.
We continue to proclaim Jesus’ message of hope and love and peace and joy in a world filled with terrible, awful, devastating news.
But, we are trying to do this in a time of diminishing resources.
According to Bill Flick’s Pantagraph column a week ago, less than half of the population of McLean county attends worship once a month. And less than 25% attend every week. In an average week in McLean County, 18,920 are in church while 153,080 are not.
And these numbers mirror numbers for the country as a whole.
Fewer people are going to church. And fewer people in church means fewer resources.
Increasingly, it feels like we are trying to feed 5,000 people, but all we’ve got are five loaves of bread, and two fish.
Like Jesus, the church today is faced with an impossible task, with not enough resources.
******Nevertheless, Jesus still takes the bread, lifts it up, and offers a blessing. Probably something like, “We praise You, Eternal God, Sovereign of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.”
And I wonder how many people in that crowd, watching Jesus bless the bread, and hearing him say those words, thought to themselves: “perhaps God could bring a little more bread, because there isn’t even enough there for each of us to have but a crumb.”
And maybe, with their bellies rumbling, they weren’t feeling very thankful, or grateful.
Maybe some even scoffed when Jesus lifted the bread, looked to heaven, and offered God thanks.
And maybe some even doubted everything Jesus said about the kingdom of heaven being at hand, despite the healings Jesus had done. What good is it to be healed, if there isn’t any bread to eat?
What good is it to be part of a church that can only do so much, when the needs of the world are so great?
Sometimes it feels like the world expects so much from churches, not realizing that most churches in this country are small churches, with faithful people but limited resources, not the big, wealthy mega-churches that one so often hears about in the news.
And sometimes, it’s hard to be thankful, to give thanks to God. It’s so much easier to complain and lament and despair.
******Now, lament is not a bad thing. In fact, the church today should probably do more lamenting, over the state of the world.
But lament is not without hope.
If you read through the psalms, you find lots of psalms of lament. But almost always, at the end of the psalm, there is hope.
And there is also a whole book of the Bible called Lamentations. A book of weeping over the state of the world.
Yes, our ancestors in faith wept over the state of the world, just as we often weep over the state of the world.
****** But right in the middle of Lamentations is one of the most hope-filled verses, a verse that is one of my absolute favorite verses in the entire Bible.
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. God’s mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is your faithfulness.
When all is devastation all around; even then, there is still hope. And that hope comes from God. And it comes through us.
That’s what Jesus understood. He offered real, tangible hope in the aftermath of John’s death, to people who themselves were distraught, and who were gathered in a deserted place, hungry for food.
****** And Jesus lifted up that bread, and the fish, too; and he blessed it, and he broke it into pieces, and he gave the pieces to the disciples, and the disciples gave the pieces to the people.
And they kept handing out pieces. And they kept handing out pieces. And they kept handing out pieces. And they kept handing out pieces.
And everyone got a piece. Not a little piece. Not a crumb. A piece big enough to fill them up.
And when all was done, they gathered up the leftovers, and there were twelve baskets full.
This meal started out with nothing. It started out in despair. It started out with the people really doubting that this was the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of hope, joy, love, and peace. The kingdom of God’s abundance.
It seemed to them that Herod’s banquet was more like the type of feast that one would enjoy in the kingdom of heaven.
But Herod’s feast ended in tragedy. All his riches, all his extravagance, couldn’t keep death from coming.
Yet out here, in this deserted place on the far side of the lake, where there was nothing…
Jesus offered thanks…
And God’s abundance appeared.
It didn’t appear in the form of gold plated platters and trays and dishes.
It didn’t appear in the form of an ornate banquet table with high backed chairs or soft cushions.
But it did appear with what was needed most: food in abundance.
And life.
Life in the form of food. Life in the form of love. Life in the form of the green grass upon which they sat—maybe you hadn’t noticed that detail, but green grass, lush grass, out in a deserted place, a wilderness, a desert?
Yet the signs of life are all around. And even when it seems that there is no reason to be thankful…
Once we start offering to God our thanks, and once we start living in the kingdom of heaven…
(For these are choices we make. We choose to offer God our thanks, and we choose to be faithful, and we choose to live in the kingdom of hope, joy, peace, and love…for that kingdom is always present and always accessible to us, no matter what our circumstances and no matter how terrible, awful, and devastating the news is…)
Once we start offering to God our thanks, and once we make the choice to live in the kingdom of heaven…
God’s abundance appears.
