Full Tummies and Full Baskets: Compassion At Work - Mark 6:30-44

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

What an adventure! Jesus had sent the disciples out, two by two, to do His work – casting out spirits, preaching and teaching in His name. They were building on the foundation laid by John the Baptist, multiplying Jesus’ own ministry. It was an internship, if you will, for their own post-Pentecost ministry that would take place later. They were to take nothing with them other than the clothes on their back, no money, no blankets, no bread, trusting that the Lord would provide for them. Just go! And they went, proclaiming repentance, casting out demons, anointing the sick, and healing many, all by Jesus’ authority and in His name.

You remember your first day at school or at a new job – how excited you were to get home and tell everyone what you saw, what you did, what all happened. You told your mom and dad, your husband or wife, your kids, the dog – anyone who would listen – about the day’s events. When the disciples returned to Jesus, they did the same, telling Him all that they had done and taught. You could imagine the stories they shared as they all gathered together and regrouped – the blind could see, the lame could walk, the paralyzed could move, demons were cast out, and even lepers were made whole and returned to the community. There were probably a few “shake the dust off your feet” moments, but they were outnumbered by story upon story, success upon success.

 Jesus wants to lead them away, away from the crowds, away from the hustle and bustle, away from the needs of those who continue to press and demand time and energy from Jesus and the disciples. Jesus had done this before, retreating from the crowds for prayer and rest. We might presume He is teaching the disciples that this is necessary for them, also – rest, pray, and be renewed by the spirit for continued ministry and service. The plan was to go to the other side of the lake – about a 5 or 6 mile trip – for their respite, but the crowds saw where they were going and, hustling, actually arrived before Jesus and the Twelve.

Imagine, for a moment, that you had been working hard for days, weeks on end. You plan a vacation, a get-away for you and your family, or you and your spouse. You’re going to shut off the cell phones so you can’t be reached, you’re going to go “off the grid,” as they say, so you can rest, renew the family relationships that had been put on the back burner while under the demands of work, and simply, recharge. But, when you arrive for check-in, there is a message waiting at the front desk. Somehow your boss, your coworker, another family member has found out where you are and they left message – URGENT! Your get-away just became a gotcha. How would you react? How would you respond? Call and tell the boss to take a flying leap? Send a message back to the coworker to figure it out themselves? Email your sister-in-law that, tough luck, she’s going to have to adjust her schedule for a change?

Jesus does none of those things. Instead, Mark says, He has compassion on them.

Compassion is much more than kindness or empathy. Compassion is a visceral reaction, meaning it’s what makes your guts hurt when you see something and just have to respond. Compassion moves you from inaction and into action and it leads you in the dirt – figuratively or literally – down in the ditch in the dust or the muck. Compassion inserts you into someone’s pain, misery, and life – or when facing death. It’s getting down eyeball to eyeball with them and be with them in that hard, difficult place and time. Compassion puts you on their level and says “I’m I’m with you, and I won’t let you be alone.”

Let’s do a simple test – what seems to be the presenting need of the people who are on the hillside? It’s been a long day sitting in the sun. Perhaps their need is shelter. Maybe they need sunscreen or aloe for sunburn. There were no concession stands or vending machines. The people were hungry. The disciples identify that the need is food.

For Jesus, His compassion arises for a different reason than you might expect. St. Mark says that Jesus has compassion when he sees the shepherd-less people. Do you get it? This isn’t some distant, far-off and aloof Divinity. This Jesus is God-in-flesh, perfect God who comes to dwell among His own dear people. This same Jesus, who was with God from the beginning, now stands as a man among people and what He sees hurts.  His pain is so deep that His guts hurt. And when Jesus hurts, He must act. He doesn’t chase them away; He doesn’t get back in the boat and sail away; He doesn’t tell the disciples to set up a perimeter and keep the crowds behind red velour ropes. He tells them to sit down in the rich, green grass and He begins to teach them.

His compassion is driven from seeing their need. The people were like sheep without a shepherd. They were a congregation without a pastor – not because the pastors weren’t there. Oh, no – they were there, alright. All of the people whose responsibilities include caring for the eternal souls and welfare of the people, feeding them God’s Word, blessing them with His name, imparting and delivering the gifts of God day in and day out, praying and interceding for them – all of these shepherds stood by and abandoned their flocks to be consumed by the wolves and bears and lions of the devil, the world, and their own sinful flesh. And, meanwhile, as the sheep were devoured one by one by being led to take their eyes off of the promise of the coming Messiah, now fulfilled in Jesus, the shepherds got fat and sassy. They debated the fine intricacies of the Law and argued ways people were guilty of breaking the Law…all the while holding themselves up as high, and great, and holy men and looking down their pharaisaical noses at sinners, tax collectors and prostitutes. Instead of having compassion of their own for these people of God, these sheep, who were wandering and in danger of being forever lost and damned, they passed by, lest they dirty themselves in the process. They were compassionless for those who needed compassion, and they abdicated their shepherding in favor of caring for themselves.

This is what causes Jesus to have compassion: these sheep were shepherdless. Shepherdless sheep wander. They can’t find food, they can’t find water, they can’t find shelter and safety. They are at risk of getting lost and separated from Christ. They are in danger of being picked off, one by one, by the devil, the world and their own sinful flesh. So, Jesus is moved to teach and preach. He fills them full so that the hungry are satisfied by something that lasts into eternity – spiritual food that satisfies.

Oh, yes – He does show compassion in taking care of their stomachs. With just five little loaves and two hot-dog sized fish, Jesus prays and begins breaking the food up for distribution. From the little comes much – so much in fact that there are 12 baskets left over. Twelve baskets: one for each tribe of Israel; one for each Disciple.

At my house, we’re not much for leftovers. Why? Well, they are left-over. Except taco night. Everyone loves tacos. With Jesus, left-overs aren’t just (grumble) left-overs; they are continuations. Jesus has the disciples gather the left-overs so they are able to continue distributing His gifts. They will carry His “left-overs” out into the world and continue distributing, not of bread that spoils or fish that rots, but the Bread of Life and His gifts of forgiveness, life and salvation won at the cross in His death and resurrection.

His compassion is found, chiefly, not in miracles, or exorcisms, the raising from the dead or even in feeding 5000 with a boy’s lunch. His compassion is found in the cross. The Kingdom is at hand, Jesus said – the time for His Cross is drawing closer. Because of His great compassion, He will suffer and die and rise for the entire world. His guts will hurt – so much so that he sweats great drops of blood. But it’s not just his guts…it’ll be his back from the whips, and his face from the slaps, and his head from the crown of thorns, and his spirit…his spirit as He realizes that even His Father in heaven has abandoned him in the face of hell on earth as the entire sin-filled burden of the world is emptied out upon Him. He takes it all, out of His great compassion for you.

His compassion knows no limits of space or time. Christ continues to send out pastors, twenty-first century apostles, with His message of compassion to Christ’s sheep. And pastors deliver the goods, to people sitting in soft green grass on hillsides, or on folding chairs in meeting halls, in steamy jungle bungalows, in air conditioned comfort, in the relative safety of North America and in places where wearing a cross will get you killed. And pastors preach, and teach, and absolve, and encourage, and absolve, and equip – all in the name of Jesus. Bread is broken, wine is poured, water is splashed, and His name is spoken. He is present. And the baskets overflow again and again. And the people rise up from the grass, and chairs, and benches, and pews and go out into the world. Having received the compassion of Christ in Word and Sacrament, you share that compassion with those around you.

Our compassion can be misguided. It is tempting to look at a crisis moment and thing that we, too, gotta do something. Don’t get me wrong – there is nothing wrong with being moved into action. In fact, many times it is a good thing. But don’t forget the first action of discipleship is to pray – to lift up our eyes to the heavens and commend all things to God’s hands. Pastors are guilty of this, too: we get so caught up in needing to do that we forget that first, we need to stop not do anything of ourselves. Instead, we are to commend all things to the nail-pierced hands of our Savior. A seasoned friend told me years ago, don’t ever forget your chief duty as the church’s priest and lift your people up in prayer. There is a time for action later. Ground your acts of compassion first and foremost in prayer. Pray for faith to be strengthened, grace to be demonstrated, mercy to be granted, love to richly poured out.

And, then, when you act in compassion, know that even small acts of compassion will be multiplied by Christ. Remember – He used a boy’s lunch to feed 5000. And, remember too that the compassion you share is the compassion of Christ that flows through you. When you reach out to others in love, you do so filled with the hands of Christ. When you speak to others in their time of need, you speak with the words of Christ. When you walk along with others in their weakness, you walk with the feet of Jesus. When you show love, you are showing the Christ’s love that He showered upon you and overflows in you to those around you.  It is not us that we share, but Christ.

 

 

 

I'm Offended, You're Offended, We're all Offended...by Jesus? - Mark 6:1-13

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

“And they took offense at Him.” 

Hmmm. Good to know that ours is not the only generation that is easily offended. It seems, sometimes, that being offended has become our national pastime. We are offended by the left and the right, by social movements and social entropy, by what was and by what we are becoming; clothes, books, artwork, movies, food all offend; we are offended by carbon footprints and by our fingerprints in the world – you name it, and we get offended.

What does it take to be offended? Not much, I suspect. As a whole, we do seem to have an overall set of social norms that act as boundaries. We should all be offended when we see racism, sexism, abuse of the poor, the unwell, the helpless – these things should offend us, for they are an offense against God as well. But, it seems that any time that we are challenged by something that makes us uncomfortable, challenges us in ways we don’t want to be stretched, makes us realize we may be wrong, or that we simply don’t like something for any and all reasons, we throw up the battle cry, “I am offended,” as if that gives us the moral high ground and everyone else should surrender to our whim, wish, will and desire.

The people of Nazareth were offended by Jesus. Here He was, the hometown boy who’s made it to the national stage. Rather than pride at what He had become, or joy for Mary and Joseph at what their Son had attained, or even excitement for what He might say and do in their midst, the crowds grumbled. What makes this guy so special? We remember him from when he was a boy – He played with our sons and daughters. What gives Him the right to teach in our synagogue? We remember how he helped His father build in the shop – how is it that those hands can perform miracles? He claims He’s from God? That’s a joke – look, there’s His own mom. In fact, the whole family is here – there are His brothers and sisters. What’s He doing, running around with people chasing after Him like He’s someone special?

Jesus will always cause offense because of who He is: God incarnate. It’s a scandal of worldly proportions – God sets aside His full divinity, takes on Himself human flesh through virgin birth, lives a more-or-less average (albeit sinless) existence in backwoods towns of Israel, with absolutely no Godly appearance about Him: no halo, no angel army, no neon sign that says “Immanuel in the house.” He looks like, acts like, sounds like, lives like, and even dies like a man. There is nothing divine in crucifixion.

There’s an old adage, “Familiarity breeds contempt.” When God looks like us, it seems too little a thing and too much to believe. God’s not supposed to be like us, the Nazarenes said. We’re not so far away, I suspect. God’s not supposed to be like us, either, so – well - ordinary.

Ah, yes – the ordinary. That was the problem. They saw Jesus as ordinary. Plain, old, ordinary Jesus. But, are we do different? We see ordinary water splashed on an ordinary child; we hear ordinary words spoken by an ordinary man to an ordinary group of people; we taste ordinary wine and cracker-like bread. Plain, old, ordinary things, yes; but, when those ordinary things are combined with the extra-ordinary Word of the One made flesh, ordinary becomes extra-ordinary. Water becomes a washing of regeneration and renewal by the Holy Spirit. Plain-spoken words create Spirit-enlivened faith, declare sins forgiven, and assure eternal life. Wine and bread rejected by 2-star restaurants becomes a meal fit for a royal priesthood. In these gifts, the One who was rejected in Nazareth comes to us, dwells among us, and delivers Himself to us now and into eternity. And we simply say, Amen. It is so.

Jesus sent an ordinary group of 12 men out into the world, two by two, with His authority to heal and cast out demons, permission to do what He has been doing. There is another name for the ordinary group of people to whom Jesus gives His gifts today: the church. The Church is the Body of Christ. He is the head; we – the Church – are the body. The body goes where the head leads. The body, the church, we are, too, sent out into the world, to be – as Luther said – “Little Christs,” shining His light into the darkness. You are hope in the midst of hopelessness. You are sanity in the center of insanity. You offer the comfort of Jesus to those who are afflicted. You speak as a forgiven sinner to sinners who need forgiveness. Having received much, you have much to share.

A couple weeks ago in Bible class, we talked about how long, how hard we should press being a witness to someone who rejects the good news of Jesus. It’s a good question, but we must be careful to not use that as an excuse. When Jesus sends the 12, He anticipates that they will be rejected. If any place will not receive you and they will not listen to you, he said, when you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.  The goal is not to speak the good news in such a way that it causes offense. The world will be easily offended as it is, looking for reasons to reject Jesus and His Word and His people.

Sadly, one the reasons people claim to be offended by the church is an honest offense: the way the body of Christ acts in public, how we live our lives outside of the sanctuary, how we speak of our family and friends, how we treat brothers and sisters in Christ. Yes, the church is made of sinners, but we dare not use that as our excuse for what we do, “I can’t help it…it’s just my nature.”  Our Christian witness is not just with words. Our lives also demonstrate Christ in us. When we fail to demonstrate the love of Jesus, we instead demonstrate the failed love of the world. Lord, have mercy and forgive us when we sin against our brothers, sisters, and you in our witness. People should not be offended because of us. If people are offended because of Jesus and His Words, that is to be expected.

And, if they are offended, and refuse to listen after repeated attempts – how many attempts? Yes. – then, shake the dust off your feet. I know it’s tough to walk away. It’s tough to admit we lost an argument to the point that someone can’t be persuaded. But, that is what Jesus teaches His disciples. Try, try, try again, but eventually, stop wasting energy in the face of blatant disbelief and hostility. Keep going. Keep doing. Keep speaking. Keep living as the body of Christ in a sin-filled, sin-darkened world. This is not failure. It’s moving forward, with the cross, under the cross, toward the cross, through the cross unto life everlasting.

Amen.