Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, Year B
July 23, 2006
Isaiah 57:14b-21, Psalm 22:22-30, Ephesians 2:11-22,Mark 6:30-44

Learning Curve
Deborah Pender Hutchison, Lay Pastoral Associate, St. David's Episcopal Church, Bean Blossom, Indiana

When I discovered that the gospel for this randomly chosen preaching Sunday was Mark’s version of Jesus’ feeding the multitude, I was stunned. Didn’t I just preach on this? Looking back through my files, I find that “just” may be a bit of an overstatement. But this is the third time in one year that I’ve gotten a feeding-of-the-multitude gospel as a preaching assignment.

It is true that Matthew and Mark each include two different versions of this story, which makes for a total of six numerous noshing narratives in the four gospels. I suppose that could account for a slightly increased probability that one might end up preaching more than once in the space of a year on the topic of miraculous meals.

But, I don’t preach very often – seven times since last July, by my count. The process of assigning a particular Sunday is quite random – based on my energy level and Jonathan’s schedule and an awareness that it’s been awhile. I never consult the lectionary before saying “yes”, because I prefer to give the Spirit as much influence on what I end up with as possible.

So, what is the Spirit saying when I get the same story three times out of seven? As a dream worker and a student of myth and fairy tales, I know that when something occurs three times, that means it’s real important. And I can’t help remembering the wisdom teaching that I first heard in my twenties (and which thirty years of experience have shown to be quite true) – that we keep getting the same thing over and over, until a) we learn what we need to learn, or b) we do what we are supposed to do, or c) we just plain get it right.

What haven’t I learned? When I preached on it almost exactly a year ago, it was the occasion of Dallas Sare’s first experience of communion. We’d picked that Sunday as the day, based purely on his family’s immanent departure for a new life in Texas. Imagine our surprise when we realized the gospel for the day was Matthew’s version of Jesus’ feeding the 5000.

It was a great opportunity to talk about God’s care for us as expressed in all the ways we are fed, with a nice segue into presenting the Eucharist as both manifestation of that feeding and staging ground from which we are sent forth as food into a hungry world. All seen through the lens of little Dallas’ first communion and his going forth into the world from the community which had both nourished him and been nourished by him.

The next time, this past Lent, dealing with John’s version of the feeding of the multitude, I found myself considering the possibility that the true miracle is that many in that vast crowd were moved both by the real need of those who had no food and the boy’s willing sacrifice of his lunch to share what they had brought for themselves…perhaps the first church pot-luck – impromptu and certainly a miracle of generosity and trust.

Now, in this weird third-time’s-the-charm way, I find myself faced with this story yet again. And I am compelled to I ask myself what I am missing. The answer is “the disciples”. All the times I’ve encountered this story, I’ve never really paid attention to them.

Well, of course, I knew they were there. It’s sort of hard to miss them – their worried complaints to Jesus about the lack of food, their ubiquitous presence among the crowd passing out bread and fish and gathering up those mysterious baskets of leftovers. But, I’ve never really seen them, you know?

This time around, they have become important. They are what I have been missing. They’ve always been for me the wallpaper of this story. But now they’ve moved to center stage, in large part because I’m engaged in a struggle with my own discipleship.

I think this is all coming to a head because of the almost unbearable weight of world events. Everywhere I look, that which gives life through connection and empathy and commitment to common ground is coming apart. The tectonic plates of nationalism, religious fundamentalism, multi-national corporate greed grind together with inexorable force. All along widening fault lines, hatred erupts. Terrible violence destroys everything in its path, individual lives and whole communities and cultures; killing hope, killing the very will to reconcile.

Overwhelmed, plagued by a sense of helplessness so intense that it borders on hopelessness, I find myself clinging to these disciples who have stepped forward into the foreground of our gospel. How can they help me move beyond my fear, my profound sense of inadequacy? What can they teach me about being a follower of Christ in this present hour?

I look up the Greek word which our scripture translates as “disciple” and I discover that it means “learner”. Well, that certainly describes me. Right now, I feel like I know nothing about how to respond to the needs of this world. I’m ready to be taught.

So, what is the Teacher teaching? Today’s gospel takes up where last Sunday’s left off. The disciples have just returned from being sent out by Jesus to preach, teach, and heal. They appear to have grown and matured as they gather around Jesus to share with him and one another.

“all that they had done and taught”. I recognize in myself a strong desire for that sort of confidence and empowerment, that I might be an effective reconciler in the midst of our time’s deep divisions. And I see that in sending his students out two by two and gathering them together again upon their return Jesus is saying something about the importance of community in the life of discipleship.

Next, Jesus invites his disciples to come away with him to a deserted place, where they might spend some time away from the crowds which have been asking so much of them that they have not even had time to eat. Here is another lesson. Ministry is exhausting work and must be balanced by times of solitude and rest. Jesus withdraws often throughout the gospels for times of solitary prayer. Here, the Good Teacher creates an opportunity for his students to actually experience this practice.

But, not for long. They can’t shake the needy multitude, who are, we are told, like sheep without a shepherd. Ah, another learning. When I see the ones who do violence, the ones whose hands are clenched in greed, the ones who speak separation and live immersed in hatred, as a milling throng of sheep without a protector and guide, my heart softens. I perceive the fear that lies beneath and feeds all destructive behavior. Jesus, the Good Teacher, goes before me in this gospel, educating by doing. He has compassion on the crowd.

And now, another lesson: Jesus expresses this compassion by teaching the listening multitude “many things”. He doesn’t just say, “There, there.” He gives them wisdom. He gives them tools for change. He offers them the opportunity to become learners, disciples. He offers them a way out of their suffering. He points them toward the process of becoming shepherds rather than sheep. A process in which the twelve original disciples have been involved long enough to have made, as we have seen, some progress.

And here comes the next lesson. The hour grows late. The crowd grows hungry. Thinking practically, the twelve ask Jesus to disperse the crowd to go find food in the surrounding villages. Thinking educationally, he answers, “You give them something to eat.”

I don’t know exactly what Jesus wants here – whether he’s looking for something supernatural -- these are, after all, the guys who’ve just recently been performing exorcisms and effecting healings – or simply hoping his students will apply their new-found confidence to solving the food problem in some more mundane fashion. In any case, it seems to me that Jesus is giving his followers another opportunity to move to a new level of spiritual power, understanding, and effective ministry.

But, they do just the opposite. Faced with monumental need, they panic. In the twinkle of an eye, the twelve who so recently have been ministering in ways comparable to the work of their Teacher, regress past the developmental stage of disciple into a fair approximation of shepherd-less sheep. In this, they provide an object lesson about the uneven nature of the process of spiritual development and they remind me not to lose patience with myself when I falter on the path.

I can surely relate to their sense of overwhelm. And so I pay close attention to what happens next. Jesus doesn’t throw up his hands and walk away in disgust. Nor does he demand that they reconnect with those capacities for ministry they clearly, for the moment, have lost track of. No, the Good Teacher finds something they can do in their compromised condition. He sends them to go and see what’s available. He puts them to work distributing food and cleaning up after the meal.

This says to me that, when I am immobilized by the immensity of the world’s need, when I very rightly cry out in despair that one person cannot transform misguided governments or halt the flight of guided missiles, there is still – always – something I can do. Even the smallest thought or action that carries the energy of healing and reconciliation is better than doing nothing at all. And, nobody stands in the way of the healing of my inner world, the transformation of my internal tendencies toward divisiveness and distrust except me.

In his interaction with the disciples, those fitful learners, Jesus has been the Good Teacher. Now, the disciples become the instructors. By doing what they can, they leave a space in this familiar story for what they cannot yet do. In that space stands Jesus, blessing, breaking, giving. And I begin to believe discipleship in a new and lively way: my doing what I am able to do and your doing what you are able to do, creates a framework, a vessel, a container, within which Jesus can do what he is able to do – meet overwhelming need with overwhelming abundance. AMEN.