Matthew 14:13-21
Ordinary 18A
August 3, 2014
First Presbyterian Church,
Clarksville
and
Harmony Presbyterian Church
The Rev. Dr. Robert Wm Lowry
A few years ago, I was
up in the mountains in North Carolina camping with some friends. After setting up camp, we walked to a little
field nearby where there is an incredible view to the west into Tennessee. There are few things in this world as
beautiful as the sun setting over the Tennessee River Valley in the summer
time.
This
particular night creation did not disappoint.
I would tell you how many different shades of orange and red that sunset
produced, but I am not sure I can count that high. It was magnificent; something out of a
National Geographic photo contest.
Unbeknownst
to me, while I was standing there watching the horizon, a butterfly landed on
my eyeglasses; right on the corner of the frame. A friend who was with me managed to take a
picture of it before I disturbed it and it flew away. In the moment, I didn’t notice my little
visitor or the photo being taken either.
A
few weeks later he emailed me the picture; my ear, my eyeglasses, a tiny
butterfly, and framing the whole thing, that perfect orange sky.
The
story we have from Matthew’s gospel is like that perfect sunset. Jesus, in an act of abundant and unending
generosity, miraculously feeds and sates the appetites of a crowd of thousands
using just a handful of bread and fish.
Just
think about the magnitude of that miracle.
The
degree of Jesus’ generosity is on the magnitude of the degree of beauty in a
perfect sunset. It is almost beyond imagination
and is entirely beyond sufficient explanation.
In
truth, there is not much new to say about this miracle of abundance. It stands very well on its own two feet and
needs no embellishment from yours truly.
So
rather than talk about the perfect beautiful sunset that this miracle is, let’s
spend a few minutes exploring a couple of theological butterflies that alight
on us while we are here. They are subtle
and in the face of the splendor of the miracle they are easily left
unnoticed. But even they have insight to
offer into this story of the kingdom of God.
And after all, what is a miracle but a peek at the kingdom; a glimpse of
the possibilities in store in the kingdom of God.
To
get a sense of what else is happening in this familiar miracle tale, we need to
take a step back and see the bigger picture.
Our
reading today began with the words, “when Jesus heard about John.”
This
miracle story and the celebration that comes from Jesus’ show of generosity and
abundance comes on the heels of a personal tragedy for him. What Jesus has just heard about John is that
Herod, manipulated by Herodias unable to refuse Salome, has had John the
Baptist beheaded in prison and his head brought to Salome on a platter.
That
is what Jesus has just heard about John.
Elizabeth’s
miracle child, his cousin, the harbinger who proclaimed his coming, the man who
baptized him in the River Jordan, has just been murdered and his head presented
like a party favor to the spoiled step-daughter of the Roman governor.
Jesus
hears the news and, Matthew tells us, “he withdrew in a boat to a deserted
place.”
Understandably,
Jesus wants some time alone. He leaves
the ever present crowds and even the disciples in order to have some time by
himself in this “deserted place.”
His
opportunity for mourning does not last long and his chance for quiet never has
a chance to start. The crowds, learning
that he has left by boat, start out by foot from the cities.
The
scripture is not specific about it but they must have been really hoofing it
because two verses later Jesus arrives at the deserted place and finds there a
teeming throng of people; the very people from whom he just excused himself for
a little time of private mourning after learning about the murder of his friend
have run to meet him!
And
when Jesus is rowing his boat and digesting this tragic news; when sees the
crowd and discovers his deserted place is no longer deserted…
…the
first butterfly alights on our story.
When
we read this text, we often jump right to the miracle of the feeding, but the
first miracle really happens right here.
Jesus
sees the crowd, has compassion for them, and heals those among them who are
sick.
Before
the first hunger pang is felt in this story, we get a glimpse of a miracle:
He…does…not…row…away.
Seeing
the people he did not want to see, being surrounded by a crowd when all he
wanted was to be alone, his deserted spot all of a sudden a muddy pit teeming
with needy people, Jesus does not row away.
In
addition to being glimpses into the kingdom of God, miracles are also glimpses
into the character of God and in this moment we get a beautiful and vivid
reminder that ours is a God who does not row away.
I
missed that little theological butterfly the first few thousand times I read
this story.
Like
so many of us, I get so caught up on the promise that God will provide, I
missed the whole part of the story that reminds us that first, God will show
up!
Ted
Wardlaw, before he became president of Austin Seminary, was pastor of Central
Presbyterian Church in downtown Atlanta.
A
friend who is a member of the church told me a story about Ted’s last Sunday.
It
seems that the church pulled out all the stops to bid farewell to their friend
and pastor. The pews were filled, the
folding chairs got more than their usual Easter morning workout, the choir was in
full form, and the children’s choir sang a special song during worship.
Now
Central is a big vibrant church so the children’s choir is pretty big. In order to corral all the kids after their
song was over, they had been given instructions to stay put until a parent came
down to get them and lead them to children’s church.
One
by one the parents came and the children scurried off until just one little
girl was left. It was obvious that she
had listened to the instructions because she stood there waiting for her parent
to come and take her to children’s church.
And
she waited.
And
the church waited.
And
waited some more.
Unbeknownst
to her, her father was in the very back of the sanctuary behind folding chairs
and the standing room crowd and it was taking him a little while to get to the
chancel. Finally, her lip quivering a in
a pre-cry panic, she saw him, threw open her arms and declared, “I knew you’d
come! I just knew you’d come!”
Ted
is one of the best preachers I have ever heard, but I am betting that more than
one person would tell you he preached the second best sermon that Sunday.
“I
knew you’d come! I just knew you’d
come!”
Something
like that must have been going through the minds of the sick people in the
crowd on whom Jesus had compassion and healed.
Before
the bread, before the fish, before the miracle of the abundant feast they knew
the miracle of the God who does not row away; the God who shows up.
We
could really stop right there.
A
big beautiful mountaintop sunset of a miracle in the feeding of the 5000 and an
alighting butterfly of a miracle that makes the whole thing all the more
amazing.
Good
stuff.
But
not all of it.
Yes
God shows up and yes, in showing up, God is compassionate and giving in
abundance…
…and…
God
does all of that in this world.
In
a world where Jesus’ own cousin is beheaded in prison and his head served like
a gag gift at a party, God does this kind of work.
Just
think about that for a minute.
This
world of sinfulness and brokenness is the canvas on which God chooses to paint
with grace and compassion.
This
may be where my butterfly metaphor falls apart because far from landing
unnoticed, that should hit us all like a ton of bricks!
In a world so broken, so sinful, so beyond
contempt that a person is made to endure indignity even beyond death the way
John did; into that world, God shows up, offers compassion, and gives with
miraculous abundance.
There
are echoes in this familiar miracle story of those often comforting and
occasionally disquieting words of Paul to the Christians at Rome,
“for
I am convinced that neither death nor life nor angels nor rulers nor things
present nor things to come nor height nor depth nor any other thing can
separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
In addition
to a God who shows up and does not row away from us, ours is a God whose
compassion and grace are so relentless not even the deepest and most persistent
brokenness and sin can keep God away.
The
God of compassion who always shows up, shows up here- in this world- this messy
broken world.
So what
do we do with all of this? Having peeled
back the familiar to seek out a little more of this story what is it we are
called to do?
In the
face of a world where children are detained like criminals at our border; where
bombs are lobbed back and forth across the increasingly scorched landscape of
the Holy Land; where partisanship has replaced humanity as the guiding
governing principle of our day; where greed is considered good and charity weakness;
in the face of that world we are called to remember that ours is a God of hope and
comfort; a savior of grace and compassion.
In the
face of this world and in the wake of this miracle story we are called to be
the body of Christ in the world; the hands and heart of the one who never rows
away; who never tires of compassion; who relentlessly declares the promise of
God’s tomorrow in the midst of the brokenness of the world’s today.
And
perhaps the miracle of all miracles in this familiar tale is that when all is
said and done; when we reach the end of the scene and every heart is stilled
and every mouth is fed, there is plenty left over. Twelve baskets full in fact. And that, if my math is correct, is in fact more
than the five loaves and two fish they started with.
So it
is with the love of God and the grace of Christ we are called to share.
When
all is said and done, there is plenty more where that came from and more than
enough to go around.
In the
name of the God who never leaves. Amen.
