Pentecost Nine

The Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, August 2, 2020 | A Sermon on Matthew 14:13-21 | by The Rev. Dr. Ryan Mills |

¹³Now when Jesus heard [about the beheading of John the Baptist], he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. ¹⁴When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. ¹⁵When 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.” ¹⁶Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” ¹⁷They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” ¹⁸And he said, “Bring them here to me.” ¹⁹Then 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. ²⁰And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. ²¹And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children (Matthew 14:13-21, NRSV).

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son +, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Well August is the time of year where my wife and I often spend a week as chaplains at our Lutheran Camp Calumet in New Hampshire. Since we can’t be there this year, I’m remembering back to one hot August day, when during a break in our duties we decided to take a drive down the Kancamagus Highway into the White Mountains National Forest. It’s a winding road, with beautiful scenery, but deep in the wilderness, and as the sun began to set and our stomachs began to rumble, we noticed the cars became few and far between. Soon that little orange “low fuel” light came on in the car, and then we came upon the road sign: “No Food, Fuel, or Services for 35 miles.”  We were hungry and tired and almost out of gas in a lonely, deserted place.

Today in the gospel reading we hear that a crowd of thousands had gone out to listen to Jesus in a deserted place, they had come to get close to the Savior, to get a glimpse, a taste, of Jesus, when all of a sudden everyone noticed it was late, and getting dark, and that this crowd of thousands was hungry.

And here maybe we can relate to these crowds—that sense of running on empty, of everything that we have running out, that wondering how we are going to keep body and soul together for one more week. Whether now or at another time in our lives, we all know about watching the refrigerator empty more quickly than the calendar goes, but we also know about feeling empty and weary and bone-tired in our own private deserted places, we know about this life running through our fingers and running out before we know it.  And if we can forget our own lives for a minute: how many babies will go to bed hungry tonight across this wide world? How many families will go to bed in this country not knowing how they’re going to get through tomorrow? How many folks in this city and around the world are lost in the lonely deserts of their own lives? Especially amidst this pandemic, it feels like the evening of the world: it’s getting dark and people are tired and hungry.

And here is where the disciples step in and insert their feet into their mouths!  They see the need of everybody, they know the folks are running on empty, they know it’s getting dark, and they also know they don’t have nearly enough to do anything about all this need, so their instructions to Jesus are heartbreaking in how understandable they are: “Send them away, Lord.” “Get rid of them, it’s late, it’s deserted, there’s nowhere to buy food around here and we’ve got no money anyway, so send them away, let them fend for themselves.” Sadly, we’re good at that as Christians—it’s not our problem, not our department, so get lost.

“No,” Jesus says to them.  “No,” Jesus says to us. “Don’t send them away. You give them something to eat.”

You give them something to eat!  You, the church, you the Christian, you the person of faith, you the one who has come out to listen to the Word, you who see the need, when your neighbor is hungry, empty, in body, mind or spirit, and even though you don’t think you have enough, you give them something to eat!

“Lord,” they say, “We don’t have anything, we don’t have nearly enough, even for ourselves, all we have is five loaves and two fishes, all we have is these seven little items.”  “Well bring them to me,” Jesus says.

Now this is a great moment to consider how we do math in our lives.  We count the notches down to empty, or we count the little that we do have and hold onto it, we count our resources up to the total of seven, but Jesus invites us to count the five loaves, the two fishes, and then also to count him.  When we add up the little we have, and worry about not having enough, Jesus shows us this morning to count all the way up to eight, that perfect Biblical number of impossibility, of eternity, of Easter: 8. Add up what you have, and then add one more for Jesus, count to 8, because anything you have, no matter how little, plus the risen Lord Jesus, equals everything, because when we take what we do have, and offer it to him, invite him in, entrust it to his hands, the 7 that we have plus the 1 Lord of Heaven and Earth, then the results are incalculable! God does his best work of multiplication beginning with our little five loaves and two fishes.  How many of you have told me over the years, “I didn’t know how we were going to do it, I didn’t know how we were going to make it, but we put it in the Lord’s hands, and he has brought us through.”

Many years ago, I spent an evening volunteering in a shelter for women and children, a big room divided off into little sections for moms and their kids to rest a while and safely spend the night.  But there was also a little girl there who came with her mom to volunteer every month, and that night in the middle of the room she was having her birthday party, and she invited all her friends to come and celebrate with her, but instead of presents, instead of toys, she had asked that they bring a potluck, bring something to eat to share with all the families spending the night there.  And so, in the middle of this room all these women and children ate KFC and pasta and sang “Happy Birthday” and ate birthday cake, everyone fed and filled and satisfied, all because of one little girl offering what she had.

And if a little girl can feed a crowd with her party, how much more can Jesus, Son of God and Son of Mary, the creator of heaven and earth, how much more can he feed all his people when we offer the little that we have to him?

And so we hear that surrounded by the hungry crowds Jesus took the bread, gave thanks, broke it, and gave it to the disciples, who gave it to the crowds, and all ate and were satisfied—all ate, and all were filled, 5,000 men, plus women and children—not just a fluke, not just a potluck, but a God who takes the ordinary that we have, the ordinary that we are, he takes what isn’t enough to meet the situation and multiplies it, and multiples us to bless and fill many, many people.

Today, more than usual, I miss being fed, being fed with the bread and wine that have in, with, and under them the true body and most precious blood of our Lord. I feel empty and hungry for the Sacrament today. But with you I also put that in the Lord’s hands, knowing that even our hunger, offered to him, can turn us to our hungry neighbors and mysteriously fill us with the riches of his grace.

As you look at the needs in your life this week, as you look at the needs of your family, the people around you, as we wonder as a church how to meet more of the needs of our neighborhood and city amidst this pandemic, how to continue and expand our outreach, serving the infinite needs of bodies and souls around us, we don’t seem like enough, it doesn’t seem like we have enough. So today we count what we have, which seems like too little, but add one more, Jesus, and count all the way to eight.

Hungry and low on fuel that night on the highway, we turned around, making it back to the lights of Camp Calumet just in time for dinner, with enough gas to spare.  Right here, into your weary life this morning, a resting place also appears: a living Savior who takes your little loaves and fishes, who takes you, and mysteriously fills you full with himself and multiplies you so that all might be fed.  For he took the loaves, and gave thanks, and broke them, and all ate and were filled–even you.

And the Peace of God which passes all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, Amen.

The Rev. Dr. Ryan Mills

New Haven, Connecticut

Pastor@TrinityLutheranNH.org