Sermons

Rearranged by Compassion

Jesus withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But 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. About five thousand men ate, plus women and children. Matthew 14:13-21

I want to point out a couple of things about this gospel story—what we usually call The Feeding of the Five Thousand. First, let’s clear up a little biblical math. The gospel says, “Those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.” Now, I’m no mathematician, but come on….as you have heard me before, this is now The Feeding of the Twenty Thousand. We know that as Scripture has been translated, or old stories are told, stuff gets overlooked, especially the very people Jesus never overlooked. It really kills me that such an important piece of Scripture gets overlooked. We hear this story a lot. It appears in all four gospels. Matthew tells it. Mark tells it. Luke tells it. John tells it. In fact, next summer we’ll hear it twice in back-to-back Sundays. July 18 and 25th, if you are filling out your summer 2027 calendars. Whenever the gospel writers repeat a story this often, they’re waving their arms trying to get our attention. It’s their way of saying, Don’t miss this. This matters.

So if we keep hearing it, perhaps the question isn’t ‘How did Jesus feed so many people?’

Perhaps a better question is, What is this story trying to teach us about who God is and who we are meant to become? Notice how the story begins. Jesus has just learned that John the Baptist has been killed. Jesus’ cousin, his friend, and his prophet… dead. So Jesus withdraws by boat because he needs space to grieve. Who among us hasn’t wanted to do that? After difficult news… after a funeral… after another tragedy on social media/ evening news… after one more diagnosis… after another argument… Sometimes we simply want to be left alone. Jesus needed a moment.

But when he reaches the shore, the crowds are already there. Matthew says something remarkable.

“He had compassion for them.” The Greek word Matthew uses I really love. σπλαγχνίζομαι (splagchnizomai). It literally means that Jesus was moved in his very guts. This means Jesus didn’t feel it in his heart or head; he didn’t feel pity or obligation. This was compassion so deep it rearranged him.

He saw their need before he felt his own exhaustion. He stayed with them and healed their sick. As evening came, the disciples (perhaps for the first time) became practical. “Send them away.” A reasonable suggestion because “It’s late.” There isn’t enough food, and in their view, this isn’t our problem. They said, ‘Let everyone fend for themselves.’ Honestly, if I had the day Jesus had, I would probably agree. Perhaps all of you would have too.

Notice that Jesus never asks the disciples whether they have enough. He simply asks them to begin. The disciples protest. “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”

The disciples see scarcity. Jesus sees possibility, and we, too, are invited to see it.

He doesn’t deny reality. Five loaves are still five loaves. Two fish are still two fish. But he refuses to let scarcity have the final word. Remember, he had compassion for them. This is not a gospel about feeding or sharing, though we are called to do that. This is us being called to a compassion so deep it rearranges us. And perhaps that is where discipleship begins. Not simply by doing more. Not by filling another volunteer slot. But by allowing ourselves to be rearranged by the same compassion that rearranged Jesus.

Then comes the part of the story we often overlook. Jesus doesn’t simply feed the crowd. He tells the disciples, “You give them something to eat.” The miracle isn’t just about bread. It’s about people being changed. The disciples who came expecting to send the crowd away become the very ones through whom the crowd is fed.

That is where this story meets us. Many of us have found a home here. We’ve been welcomed. We’ve been nourished by worship, friendship, and grace. We’ve discovered that this community has fed us when we were hungry in ways we didn’t even know we were hungry. But there comes a moment when everyone hears Jesus/the community say, “Now it’s your turn.”

The invitation is to move from being fed to helping feed others. To move from attending to belonging. From belonging to serving. And, even more importantly, go deep so you can keep belonging and keep serving.

For the last two years, I have watched something beautiful happen here at St. Mark’s. More and more people have found their way through these doors. Our chairs are fuller. New faces have become familiar faces. Children fill our classrooms. There is an energy here that feels hopeful and alive. We have been, in so many ways, living this story. People have come here hungry—for community, for meaning, for hope—and together we have discovered that there is enough.

But every season of a community’s life asks a different question. For the last few years, our work has been making room at the table. This next year, I believe our work is learning how to sit at the table together. Not simply to grow larger, but to grow deeper.

To deepen our faith. To build real friendships instead of simply recognizing one another on Sunday mornings. To discover the joy of serving alongside one another. To become curious about our own spiritual lives and about that holy presence—that divine spark, that image of God—that has always lived within us, whether we have known how to name it or not.

Because discipleship is not simply believing the right things. It is becoming a different kind of person. It is allowing ourselves to be rearranged by compassion. And perhaps most importantly, to move from simply caring about this community to allowing it—and the compassion of Christ to rearrange us.

Because that is what happens when we truly belong. We stop asking, “What can this church do for me?” and begin asking, “How is the Divine Spark changing me through this community? Who is Christ calling me to feed?” Every healthy community reaches that moment. Not because we’re trying to keep programs running, but because this is how we are formed. We are changed when Christ’s compassion becomes our own, when what has nourished us begins to flow through us to nourish others. The Eucharist doesn’t end at the altar. It sends us back into the world to become bread for others, offering hospitality, compassion, generosity, and hope.

So perhaps the question this Gospel asks us isn’t, “Do we have enough?” The question is, “Will we offer what we have?”

Because Christ has never needed perfect people or unlimited resources. Christ has always worked through ordinary people willing to show up with open hands. The crowd became a community because people stayed. The disciples became disciples because they accepted the invitation to help feed others. I believe this is the invitation before us.

God/a good, orderly direction/ our higher mindedness, is still taking ordinary bread and ordinary people and making something extraordinary.

This year, may we go deeper. May we deepen our faith, deepen our friendships, deepen our service, and deepen our awareness of the holy presence already at work within us.

And as we are rearranged by compassion, may we discover that the miracle was never simply that twenty thousand people were fed.

The greater miracle is that ordinary disciples became the kind of people through whom God could feed the world.

May we become those people.

Amen