A Sermon by Sydney V. (Skip) Jackson — July 12, 2009
Indianola Presbyterian Church, Columbus, Ohio
Text:  Mark 6:14-44

“Send them away… [to] buy something for

“You give them something to eat.”— Mark 6:36-37

At this point in Mark’s story of “the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” we might begin to wonder about the apostles.  They just don’t seem to get it.  They fail to grasp the meaning of the parables in Chapter 4.  And although they’ve witnessed many deeds of power by Jesus and performed some of their own, they seem to unable to grasp just who Jesus is.  “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” they ask [Mk 4:41].  All through the Gospel they bumble along following after Jesus, but they seem pretty clueless about what’s going on.

Actually, many commentators suggest that Mark did this on purpose—that is, continually showed the apostles in a poor light—so as to lead readers to make their own decision about Jesus.  Throughout his story, Mark reveals much more about Jesus to the reader than these twelve people closest to Jesus ever get to see for themselves.  So in comparison to the apostles, we might wonder whether we ourselves really know who this Jesus is, whether we “get it,” and (more importantly) whether what we know makes any difference at all in how we live.

The apostles are perfect foils in this because they are so human, so like us in their reactions.  The text doesn’t say what they thought when a crowd of people chased after Jesus to be with him in the “lonely place.”  Maybe they were hoping to be alone with their leader to keep regaling him with their recent triumphs.  Yet Jesus had compassion for the crowds and turned to meet them.  I suspect the apostles were pretty annoyed, and this comes through in how ready they are to get rid of these people when everyone’s hungry.  “Send them away,” they say, “so that they may go…buy something for themselves to eat.”  Not a lot of compassion here.

In truth, the English word “compassion” is far too mild to describe how Jesus reacted when he saw the crowd.  The Greek text uses a word that comes from a verb, splanchizomai, which literally means “to have one’s guts be torn apart.”  Jesus didn’t just feel sorry for the crowds; he was overcome by a “gut wrenching” pity and compassion for them in their condition as an impoverished and leaderless people.  Jesus reacted in the depths of his being to their needs and reached out to them in response.  Whatever the apostles’ reaction, they were not moved so deeply (or at all, perhaps?) by the needs of this crowd.  In fact, they seemed to think that the people should fend for themselves and meet their own needs.

That’s not so different from us, is it?  We are not usually moved to the very depths of our being—to “gut wrenching” compassion—by the needs of other people.  Our culture has indoctrinated us far too well with the “creed” that “God helps those who help themselves.”  A lot of people wrongly think that this saying is from the Bible!  It’s not!  It’s actually a kind of propaganda—propaganda from a culture which gives highest honors to success through individual achievement, which over-values self-reliance and self-help, and which tells over and over various heroic tales about people who “pulled themselves up by their bootstraps.”

Such Horatio Alger, “rags to riches” stories are tremendously seductive, capturing our imaginations.  They tell us that anyone and everyone can make it to the top if they work hard to “pull themselves up by their own bootstraps.”  You can make it on your own.  Consider how much such stories are played up for various public figures—from Abraham Lincoln to Oprah Winfrey, Andrew Carnegie to Bill Gates and Steve Jobs, Justice Clarence Thomas to Judge Sonia Sotomayor.  But unfortunately our society’s love of such stories has a dark side that often implies that those who are in need of help or charity (or affirmative action) are themselves at fault because they are lazy, or lack dedication, or don’t really want to succeed.  Somehow such people are not really deserving of our help.

One of the problems with all those typical “rags to riches” stories is that they’re far too individualistic.  They neglect all the ways in which successful people have received help along the way.  In his book, Outliers, Malcom Gladwell makes the point that success (however we define it) is not simply “the sum of the decisions and efforts we make on our own behalf.  It is, rather, a gift.”  He notes ways that successful people benefited from singular opportunities that came their way.  For instance, Bill Gates had unusual opportunities in the early 1970s when his high school had a computer club when almost no other high schools did.  When talking to Gladwell about how many other teenagers might have had similar opportunities, Gates said, “If there were 50 in the world, I’d be stunned.  I had a better exposure to software development at a young age than I think anyone did in that period of time, and all because of an incredibly lucky series of events.”

Successful people can often cite particular persons who took a special interest in them, people without whom they wouldn’t be where they are today.  Justice Clarence Thomas has noted how he benefited from the influence of some nuns as well as those who got him into a private parochial school in the first place.  But he also benefited from affirmative action policies that he himself now decries.

The reality is very few people can achieve the typical “rags to riches” story.  Gladwell points out near the end of his book, “We look at the young Bill Gates and marvel that our world allowed that 13-year-old to become a fabulously successful entrepreneur.  But that’s the wrong lesson. Our world only allowed one 13-year-old unlimited access to a time-sharing terminal in 1968.”  He then wonders what our world might be like if a million teenagers had been given the same opportunity.

What “singular opportunities” have you had?  As you ponder this question, consider that your “opportunities” might be really basic.  A few years ago I came across a questionnaire with just four questions:  (1) Do you have more than one pair of shoes?  (2) Do you have some choice about what you will eat for each meal?  (3) Do you have access to your own means of transportation?  And, (4) do you have more than one set of underwear?  How many yeses did you have?  According to the questionnaire, if you had three or more, then by the overall standards of the world, you are affluent.  Fewer than 10% of all people who have ever lived have been able to say “yes” to three or more of these questions at any one time in their lives.  Millions of people still must answer “no” to all four.  I didn't ask these questions to make us all feel guilty, but to make a point.  There are many people who lack either resources or opportunities to make it on their own.

The belief that “God helps those who help themselves,” can harden our hearts and lead us to see the poor and in frustration think, “Why are there so many free-loaders?  Can’t they get off their butts and help themselves?"  Instead of feeling a gut-wrenching compassion for the poor, we stand with the apostles as they look upon hungry people and ask, “Why can’t they go away and get some food for themselves?”  But in response, Jesus confronts the apostles (and us!) with the challenge, “[You do it.]  You give them something to eat.”

Now I know we have heard this challenge, and we have responded in many ways—with things like Neighborhood Services, CROP Walk, B.R.E.A.D., and One Great Hour of Sharing.  But at the same time, I think we end up stuck in the apostles’ next response.  Whatever we can do seems so futile in the face of such a huge and growing problem.  What are five loaves and two fish for a crowd of 5000?  What do our efforts accomplish in the face of a faltering economy with ever more hungry people.  Along with the disciples I wonder, “Maybe if we had 200 denarii…” A lot more money!  Maybe we need to do something extravagant.   I know—perhaps I could sell all I have and give it away.  Or we could disband the church, sell all the property, and give the proceeds to the poor.  Yet even that would be but a drop in the bucket, just as 200 denarii might purchase just the one dinner for these 5000 people.  What about breakfast tomorrow morning?

Jesus asks the apostles, “How many loaves have you?  Go and see.”  At this point I need to review last weeks reading, because the apostles’ answer is actually pretty funny.  Remember, Jesus sent them out on their first mission, ordering them to take nothing with them except a staff—no bag, no money, no change of clothes, no bread…  Wait a minute!  No bread?  According to the story they just got back from their mission.  Yet when Jesus asks what they have, the Greek text doesn’t say they go to find out.  The translators put this in.  No, they know right off, “Five loaves, and two fish.”  As we chuckle how these bumbling disciples have been caught, we might laugh a little at ourselves as well.  These guys have a little something tucked away, like us.  They know just what their assets are—like we do.  And just like us, they know that what they have is not nearly enough.

So, where did these five loaves and two fish come from?  The disciples didn’t take any food with them when they left, and they’re just now back.  This food they have squirreled away “just in case” must have been given to them along the way.  How deliciously fitting!  Jesus is asking them simply to give out of the gifts they have been given.  That’s exactly what Jesus asks us to do.
So the crowd gathers in smaller groups, and Jesus blesses the loaves and fish and begins to divide them.  I can’t help but wonder what the apostles were thinking.  “What’s he doing now?  How can so little make any difference?  Five loaves and two fish can’t matter.”  We have such questions about our own efforts.

There’s an old story of a man is walking at dawn along a beach covered with stranded starfish.  A late night storm and high tide combined to wash thousands of starfish up on the beach.  Thousands?  Why there must be tens or even hundreds of thousands!  Stranded by the receding tide, they will die in the heat of the day.  In the distance the man sees someone else on the beach—an old man who keeps walking out into the water and then back up on the beach.  Drawing closer, he sees that the old man pick up starfish, shuffle down to the sea, and throw it out into the surf.  He goes up to the old man and says, “What you are doing is futile.  Soon the sun’s rays will kill all these starfish, and your pitiful efforts will have been meaningless.  What you’re doing doesn’t matter.”  But the old man just picks up another starfish and shuffles down the beach and into the sea.  Heaving it out into the waves, he retorts, "It matters to that one!"

“Jesus… blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and he divided the two fish among them all.  And all ate and were filled.”  Five loaves and two fish, yet 5000 people ate and were filled.  In a few verses (Mk 6:52), Mark says outright that the apostles did not understand about the loaves.  Do we understand?  Can we understand?  Miracles like this challenge rational thinking, so any understanding must come at some other level.

One thing I understand is this.  Out in the Narthex and in the coatroom, there are two boxes for Neighborhood Services.  On Sundays and occasionally during the week people bring in food and put it in tone of the boxes.  Then someone—Jack Kyle or Paul Wilkinson, I think—takes it to the Neighborhood Services food pantry.  But whenever I look in the boxes there’s more food.  It’s as if the food is continually being multiplied.  And I know that when the food is divided and given out—whether to 5 people, or 50, or 500, or 5000—the people who receive it eat and are filled.  And to each one of those 5 people, or 50, or 500, or 5000, it matters to that one.  It all matters.  Look with the eyes of faith!  Surely Jesus has a hand in such miracles!  Amen and amen.