Text: Mark 6:37 (Jeremiah 1:4-9) W Christopher Maronde Ordination “You
Give Them Something to Eat” In the name of the Chief Shepherd
who calls, appoints, and equips under-shepherds to take care of the flock of
God, dear brothers and sisters in Christ:
It’s a genuine pleasure for me to be here to address you on this joyful
day that we celebrate our Lord’s ongoing care for his Church by consecrating
new ministers of his Gospel, and to lay hands and implore the Lord’s blessing upon
one young man in particular as he takes a solemn oath to proclaim the whole
counsel of God in all of its truth and purity, to rightly administer the
Sacraments of the Church, to love and to care for the people of the
congregations he’s been called to serve, and to adorn the office of the Holy
Ministry with an upright and godly life.
This is especially a pleasure for me, because it was four years ago at
his wedding that I had the honor of lecturing Chris on the duties and
responsibilities of being a good husband.
Now, at his request, I get to read him the riot act about being a good
pastor. It seems that when Chris is
standing on the edge of making one of life’s really big commitments, he trusts
me to have something worthwhile to contribute.
I am humbled by this expression of confidence; I pray it’s not misplaced. I only hope that when the day comes that he
makes what is likely to be his next really big commitment, that is, the
purchase of a home, he doesn’t ask me to co-sign the loan. The
text I’ve chosen on which to base this message is from the Gospel of St. Mark, chapter
six, verse thirty-seven. But before I
read it, I’d like to spend a moment describing the context in which our Lord
speaks these words. The setting is the mid-Galilean
phase of Jesus’ ministry. He is at
highpoint of his popularity. People are
flocking to him by the thousands, drawn by his radically refreshing teachings
and his ability to miraculously heal every form of illness and injury. The result is that in order to keep up with
this steady flood of humanity, Jesus and his disciples are working overtime – really
burning the candle at both ends. They’re
keeping a schedule that allows them almost no time for rest or even to
eat. After some weeks of this, Jesus
sees that his men are physically and mentally exhausted. They can’t go on like this. No doubt Jesus feels the strain himself, and
so it is that early one morning before sunrise when the crowds will surely
begin to gather again, he pulls his men aside and says, “Come with me by
yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”
It sounds good to the disciples. They load up the boat, and with Jesus
aboard they set sail from Capernaum to a remote place on the northeastern shore
of the Sea of Galilee. Unfortunately,
they don’t make a clean getaway. Some
early risers observe what they’re doing and spread the word. So as the disciples blissfully sail toward a
much needed mini-vacation, unbeknown to them, a vast crowd follows along the shoreline. No sooner have Jesus and the disciples come
ashore at their supposedly secret hideaway, than they look up and see the
multitude approaching. The hearts of the
disciples sink. They look to Jesus,
hoping that he’ll say, “Quick, back in the boat. We’ll head south.” But no.
Jesus looks at the horde converging on them and sees that they are like
sheep without a shepherd. They’ve come
to him lost, confused, and afraid looking for guidance, for spiritual
sustenance, for healing, and for his word of forgiveness. And he has compassion on them. He must, for he is the Good Shepherd who
gives his very life for the sheep. There
will be no rest for Jesus or for the disciples this day. It’s
about noon when Jesus begins to teach the crowd. With his words he fills their hungry hearts with
truth from above. It is a veritable
feast for their souls. And as the hours
of the afternoon pass by, they listen to him enraptured by his insights and
awed by the direct authority with which he speaks. And no one’s looking at their pocket sundials
begrudging him the time. This is what
they came for, and not one of them is disappointed. Meanwhile,
the disciples are growing more than a little concerned. They came to this out-of-the-way place to
have a break from the crowd. So to begin
with, they aren’t very happy that all these needy and insistent people have so
rudely imposed themselves on what was supposed to be their time. But now, in addition to that, it’s getting
late. Surprised by Jesus’ sudden
departure and not knowing how far they would end up having to go, no one in the
crowd thought to bring any food with them.
So they’ve missed breakfast and
lunch, and now it’s coming on supper time.
The disciples (no doubt hoping to be free of the crowd at last) approach
Jesus and tell him, “Look, Lord, it’s getting late, and we’re out here in the
middle of no place. Send these people
away so they can buy food for themselves in the surrounding villages.” And
that’s when Jesus answers with the words of the text: “They don’t need to go away. You
give them something to eat.” “You give them something to eat”:
Oh, I would like to have seen the expression on their faces when he said
that. As it is we can only imagine their
mouths hanging open as they stare at Jesus in stunned silence, trying to decide
whether he’s joking or if he’s completely lost his mind. When they do manage to speak, they sound like
the voters’ assembly of the typical Lutheran Church. Forget about the logistic problem of finding the food required, they jump
straight to the far more important issue:
how much it’s going to cost.
“Why, Lord, it would take eight month’s wages to provide everyone in
this mob with a single mouthful.” They
are certain it can’t be done. They
simply do not have the means to feed so many people. At least, that’s what they think – and to the
extent that they are thinking in terms of their own natural abilities, they are
absolutely right. “What
have you on hand?” Jesus asks. After a very short inventory, the answer comes
back, “All we’ve got are five loaves of bread and two small fish.” And mind you, we’re talking about five of
those little round pita loaves and a couple pickled herring. It sure doesn’t look like much. Indeed, “What are these among so many?” And
yet, in the hands of Jesus and blessed by him, this seemingly insignificant
serving becomes yet another feast for the multitude. The disciples distribute to all as much as
they want. Their baskets seem to have no
bottoms. No matter how times they put in
their hands, they find that there’s still more there to give. All
eat their fill and are satisfied. And
twelve basketsful of leftovers are gathered up by the disciples and returned to
the Lord. It
is indeed an impressive miracle that proves the divine power of Jesus to create;
but if that’s all we took away from it, we’d be missing the main message. With the miracles of Jesus there is always a
teaching point, a lesson to be learned that is illustrated by the miraculous
sign. And in this case it’s not hard to
figure out. In the not too distant
future Jesus will be heading to Jerusalem, there to be arrested, condemned, and
crucified – his life the ransom for the sins of the world. On the third day he will rise and appear to
his astonished disciples. He will
explain to them again God’s eternal
plan of salvation – and this time they’ll understand it. And before he ascends into heaven, he will
commission them to go forth declaring the forgiveness of sins and eternal life
in his name. He
will make them his under-shepherds. He
will commit to them the care of his flock.
And his charge to them will be the same as the one he gave them on that
remote beach on the Sea of Galilee: You give them something to eat. And what have they got in their picnic baskets
with which to perform this colossal feat?
The same as before: five loaves
of bread and two small fish. What do I
mean? Ask any Jewish person living in
the first century what the number five stands for, and without hesitation he’d answer,
“Five stands for the Pentateuch, the books of Moses; that is, the Word of God.” And by extension it refers to the entire
Scripture. And that makes sense: bread and the Word of God are closely linked in
Scripture: man lives by every Word that
proceeds from the mouth of God. And the two
small fish? Well, let’s go with the two fleshly means by which Christ nourishes
those whom belong to him: the Sacraments,
Baptism and the Lord’s Supper. That’s all
the apostles had with which to feed a multitude. And by God’s grace and the blessing of Jesus they
did it. And so did those who followed
them, who for twenty centuries have been feeding the flock of God with nothing
but five loaves and two small fish. Today,
Chris, Jesus hands that little boy’s lunch to you, points you at the congregations
you have been called to serve, and says, “I have some sheep here without a
shepherd. I want you to take care of them for me.
You give them something
to eat.” Now, to the best of my
knowledge, there aren’t 5000 of them (not yet, anyway), but it’s still a
daunting task that he lays on your shoulders.
And if you look inside the basket you’ve been given with which to do
this job, it appears impossible. What
are these among so many? Like the
disciples and the prophet Jeremiah you may think, “I can’t do this.” Let
me be more specific: the days will soon
be upon you when you are weary from dealing with needy and persistent people. They will be staggering under the load of
their guilt and Satan’s accusations.
They will be reeling from life’s tragedies and sorrows: the death of a
loved one, a suicide in the family, the break up of a marriage, the loss of a
home in a fire or a storm. They will be
facing hard times: the dread diagnosis of cancer or some other life threatening
or crippling illness, the loss of job, an extended drought or widespread flooding
that threatens their livelihood, the next financial crisis (whatever it happens
to be). They will be struggling with strained relationships, with addictions
both physical and spiritual, with disappointments, with misconceptions, with
problems too numerous to name. They will
come to you lost, confused, and
afraid looking for guidance, for spiritual sustenance, for some way to make
sense of it all. And you’ll be sitting there
in your study on a Saturday evening staring blankly at the appointed Scripture
readings for the next day, which don’t seem to have anything to do with what they’re
dealing with, wondering what in the world you’re going to say when you stand in
the pulpit tomorrow. And
believe it or not, that’s only part of the problem; because you’re also called
to be the shepherd of the other part of the flock that won’t come to you. They’ll tell you they’ve heard enough
already, or that church services (and in particular your sermons) are too
boring, or that they have better things to do on Sundays, or that you’re too
young to know what you’re talking about, or that they’re deeply offended by
something you did or said (actually, they won’t tell you that; somehow you’re
just supposed to know), or they’ll say that know more about the Bible than you
ever will (and some of them, by the way, may be right). And yet the Lord Jesus commands you to give them something to eat too.
(I know it’s not a very Lutheran thing to do, but can I get an “Amen”
from the pastors seated up here?) All
of this makes the task Jesus has assigned you seem that much more impossible. And this will lead to what may be your
greatest temptation. You’ll look at the
slim pickings in your basket, the fives loaves and two small fish, and think,
“Maybe what I need to do is put something else in there to stretch it.” You know: a few jokes, some heartwarming
stories, a little chicken soup for the soul; maybe add some pop psychology, a
serving of syrupy stuff about your best life now, and, ooh, and a heaping
helping of practical advice: ten biblical
principles for building stable relationships, Jesus’ seven secrets for business
success, and arrive at your own Promised Land in just forty days of
purpose. You might as well put sawdust
sweetened with saccharine in there.
You’ll get more volume, sure. You
may even tickle a theological sweet tooth or two; but you will not nourish God’s
people that way. They
need something else. They need
Jesus. They need the holy life he lived
for them. They need his sacrificial
death on the cross. They need his cleansing
and forgiveness. They need his body and
blood. They need the power of his
resurrection. They need the guidance of
his Holy Spirit. And all of that is
found only in the fives loaves and two small fish. Put the passage of Scripture you are working
with in the hands of Jesus. Let him
bless it. And it will become a feast for
a multitude every time. And not just for
a multitude, but also for the weary sinner oppressed by guilt who comes to you
privately, the individual sick and infirm members you visit in the hospital or
nursing home, and the couple whose marriage is this close to failing, who sit
on opposite ends of the sofa in your study spitting venom at each other. They don’t need your charisma or your rugged good
looks. They don’t need the programs and
innovations you come up with. They don’t
need your carefully cultivated “pastoral leadership” abilities, your grand vision
for the church, or your “missional focus” to set them aflame (whatever that
means). They need Jesus Christ and him
crucified. And
so do you. In order to feed the flock
Jesus has commended to your care, you must first let him feed you. Like Jeremiah, you won’t have anything to say
until the Lord stretches forth his hand, touches you, and puts his words in
your mouth. So it’s critical that daily you
heed Jesus’ invitation to “Come with me by yourself to a quiet place.” Open the basket containing the five loaves
and two fish and dive in. Rewash
yourself in Holy Baptism by repentance and remembering your union with Christ
in his death, burial, and resurrection.
Eat your fill of the five loaves – and don’t worry: the basket has no
bottom. The supply is endless. Doing so, with the Holy Spirit’s aid, you
will uncover the fabulous feast laid on the Lord’s Table that will both fill
your hungry soul, and strengthen and equip you to serve it to others. Neglect to do so – try to fulfill your
calling with your own strength and abilities – and you will burn yourself out
and fail the people you are called to serve. One
thing’s for sure: you’ve got the right
name for the job. Maybe your parents
were prescient, for as I’m sure you know, Christopher
means Bearer of Christ. Chris, my fellow brothers in the
ministry: the people of God are
hungry. They are hungering and thirsting
for the righteousness of Jesus Christ. You give them something to eat.
In Jesus’ name. Amen. Soli
Deo Gloria! |