9 Pentecost, 2024 | 07.21.24 | A Sermon Based on Mark 6:30-44 | by Paula Murray |

This morning’s Gospel reading comes immediately after Mark describes the death of John the Baptist.  The story of the feeding of the five thousand, today’s Gospel reading, seems far removed from the sadly gory removal of the prophet’s head, and Herod’s disgusting accommodation to worldly concerns about power rather than the divine mandate to marry lawfully and be merciful.  There is a connection, although it is not necessarily obvious to us.  That connection is the preaching of the Gospel,  the Good News of the Kingdom of Heaven coming near.  John was not only the last of the Old Testament prophets, attested to not only in his message but also his clothing, diet, and habitation.  All of those things, the fur skin draped around his body and cinched around his waist with a leather cord, the honey and super cricket diet, the wilderness life – are reminiscent of the great prophets like Elijah, and predisposed people to listen to John the Baptist’s preaching and to present themselves for a baptism of repentance in the Jordon River in the wilderness.

But John was also the first evangelist, the first Apostle, meaning “sent one,” sent by God the Father to preach the fulfillment of God’s promise of a Messiah, a Savior, Who would save His people.  So, what are the disciples returning from their first gig?  They are called apostles.  Apostles, because the Incarnate Son of God, Jesus Christ, sent them out two by two in nothing but the clothes on their backs to preach of the coming of the kingdom of heaven in Christ.  Hear again the first line of our Gospel reading.  “The apostles returned to Jesus and told Him all that they had done and taught.”  So, there is the connection, John and the disciples were all sent by God to teach that God’s Word and Will is fulfilled in the person of His Son.  God sent all those apostles to be His voice to people yearning with all their hearts and souls for faithful, hopeful, and compassionate leadership.

We all know leaders like this are thin upon the ground. They were thin upon the ground at the time of the first century, when Jesus walked the earth, remember Herod?  And they were thin upon the ground long before the days that preceded the incarnation of Jesus Christ.  The prophet Jeremiah confirms this in our Old Testament reading.  He said, “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of My pasture!” declares the Lord. Therefore thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, concerning the shepherds who care for My people: “You have scattered My flock and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them. Behold, I will attend to you for your evil deeds.”

Jesus Himself says something very much like this in the middle of the Gospel reading.  Mark tells us, “When He went ashore He saw a great crowd, and He had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd.”  This says a lot about Jesus as a shepherd as well.  The disciples He had sent out to preach the Gospel to villagers in Galilee were excited to tell Him all about what they had taught and experienced during their mission trip.  Jesus, understanding that once their excitement faded they would need rest, took them to an out-of-the-way place so they might eat, drink, and take a short vacation.  But crowds of desperate people followed them, and, as the Bible told us, Jesus had compassion on them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.

Let’s ask ourselves this obvious question.  What are sheep without a shepherd like?  Without a shepherd’s protection and guidance, literal sheep, the wooly, four-legged variety, scatter, wander away from the main body of the flock, fall off cliffs and break legs, drown in streams, and are eaten by coyotes, wolves, and two-legged predators looking for free lamb chops.  When Scripture compares human beings to sheep, it’s not because we’re wooly, prey animals.  But like sheep, we need protection from the world’s predators, chief among them the evil one, and, sadly, one another.  And we need guidance, though perhaps not to the degree sheep do.  To ask the question again, then, what are human beings without a shepherd like?

We scatter, we follow people, ideas, things which lead to greater brokenness, not less; to greater vulnerability to sin, not less; to a greater lack of mercy, not less, to a greater exposure to the powers inclined to darkness and death, not less.  Without a shepherd, those sheep whose wool we wear will eventually starve and die.  When we are without a shepherd, we starve inwardly, not outwardly, and we die, first spiritually, then physically.

We share with sheep the need to be led, meaning we need to be protected and guided.  Many among us deny that need.  They would claim for themselves a kind of self-sufficiency that only God can  attain.  It is a grown-up version of a child’s cry, “Me do it,” as he works through the challenges of toddlerhood.  There is not a one of us here, who fed herself as an infant, performed his own surgeries, or manufactured their own cars.  To deny our insufficiencies is to deny the blessings God gives us but also those we receive from others including our parents, our surgeons, and the folks who build our cars.  The worst of it, though, is that when we claim self-sufficiency when we see no need for that Shepherd Whose cross reconciles us to God, we stuff ourselves full of unhealthy and unholy substitutes.

Those unholy and unhealthy substitutes bring us to the feast for which this passage, often called “the feeding of the five thousand,” is famous.  To reiterate, Jesus had brought His newly made apostles to a “desolate” place that they might rest after their exhausting exertions on behalf of the Gospel.  But people saw where they were going and by the time Jesus and His followers had arrived a large crowd had assembled. Again, Jesus had compassion on them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.  So, He began to teach them. Notice Jesus did not wade into the crowd to heal the injured and the desperately sick.  No, He fed them with His Word.  He taught them.  He taught them about the love and mercy of God, a love and mercy so very great that God Himself would pay the price for their sins and rescue them from death.  He fed their spirits, and it was only after the day’s shadows grew long and, likely, the disciples’ stomachs grumbled with hunger, that He turned to deal with bodily hunger as opposed to spiritual hunger.

But even that meal was less about easing physical hunger than it was about feeding the spiritual hunger of the 5000 men assembled before Him, and the women and children who probably accompanied them.  A true miracle, five barley loaves and two small fish fed all who sat in their groups of fifty and one hundred to eat, and with twelve baskets of leftovers. The multiplication of the loaves and fishes in response to His prayer revealed the voice of Him through which creation was spoken into being, and through Whom we are redeemed.  Jesus Christ is the One of Whom Jeremiah speaks, the Shepherd and King of Whom Jeremiah spoke, who would save  Judah, and in Whom Israel may rest securely.

He is our King and Shepherd, too, but we are so very consumed by chasing snacks for our spirits that we do not see the feast of grace God sets before us.  In an age during which thousands of young adults, teens, and even children die of fentanyl poisoning, the spirits of men and women alike are poisoned by pornography, and our minds are filled with political nonsense or damaging fantasies, it is only when we feed our spirits with God’s Word that we find the guidance we need to put aside what is unhealthy and unholy.  It is our Shepherd, Jesus Christ, who protects us from those dark forces that would entrap us, leading us away from that which will harm us to that which will give us peace and hope and life abundant and everlasting.