This week I wrap up this introductory series on how I understand my ministry as a deacon. Over the past few weeks, I have reflected on my core Biblical touchstone as well as the four areas of responsibility to which I have been ordained as a United Methodist deacon. It seemed only fair to borrow the title of the book, A Deacon's Heart, written by one of two of my mentors and professors, Margaret Ann Crain and Jack Seymour. Margaret Ann was part of the initial class of deacons ordained in 1996 under the current model of ministry. She helped me to explore and grow into a ministry that even today is not always well understood in many areas of The United Methodist Church. She helped me to see that I had a deacon's heart all along, even though I had no language for that when I started my path into ministry years ago.
Today, I reflect on the responsibility to lead the church in ministries of compassion. What does it mean to have compassion for others? Reading, Matthew 14:13-21, we get some idea of what compassion meant to Jesus and what it means for us to follow in his footsteps.
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A month ago, the people of Andrews Chapel United Methodist Church and I joined together in ministry. I am slowly getting to know the people of the congregation, and I am trying to help them get to know me. I started this sermon series for the first few weeks of my time with them to help them learn a little more about how I approach ministry.
Since I started my journey into ministry, I have walked the path of a deacon. When I first started the path toward ordination some 20 or so years ago, it was the description of the deacon that I felt most drawn to. When I was in school, I studied the history of the deacons in the earliest days of the church. I learned from professors with a strong understanding of their own calling as a deacon. I read books, like A Deacon’s Heart, which was written by two of my professors and explored this new order of ministry created in 1996. Over time, I realized I had had a deacon’s heart all along, but it wasn’t until I began exploring ordained ministry and the history of the church that I had language to describe it.
As with all forms of Christian ministry, lay and ordained in all of its permutations, deacons are grounded in the example of Christ. Jesus is the Word of God, the very Word we share with others. Jesus walked among us as a servant leader, devoting his life to serving God and those in need. Jesus acted righteously and justly, siding with the marginalized and the oppressed. And Jesus was compassionate and loving to those who were in need.
In today’s story, Jesus has just received the news of John the Baptizer's death. You may recall that John was Jesus’ slightly older cousin. Several stories scattered throughout the gospels suggest that there was a certain closeness between them. They were family. John’s followers knew of Jesus. John is the one who baptized Jesus as Jesus was starting his own ministry. The news of John’s death hit him hard.
Some of us may recognize what Jesus does when he hears the news. Jesus withdraws to a deserted place to be alone. How many of us upon hearing sad news have reacted the same? How many of us have seen others react this way? If that isn’t proof of the incarnation right there...but that is another sermon.
Jesus heard the news and withdrew to be alone. But the crowds had been growing. They might not have known exactly who Jesus was, but they knew he had power. He could heal them, bless them. The crowds followed from the shore. Likely we would do the same. Here is a person of power who can heal whatever ails us, make us whole again. Follow him.
Chances are, few if any of them knew how Jesus was feeling in that moment. Maybe some of them had heard about John, but they wouldn’t necessarily know about the connection between them. So they followed Jesus even as he sought solitude.
And then something unexpected happens. Jesus doesn’t avoid the crowds, nor does he yell at them to go away. The text says he saw the large crowds and had compassion on them. He looked on this mass of people, saw that they had needs which we was able to do something about, and so he did. He healed those that were sick among them.
He didn’t need to meet their needs. No one forced him to do so. He could have sent them away or avoided them altogether. Nor did he shame them for their needs. He didn't question why they were sick. Instead, he had compassion. He saw they were in need and met those needs simply because he could.
What does that sort of compassion look like in our world today? What would it be like to look upon those around us and have compassion? What would it look like to simply meet the needs of others without questioning their circumstances or choices? Are there needs in our community we can meet simply because someone is in need?
We could simply stop with these first two verses of our passage today. Truly. What more do we need to hear than that Jesus saw the large crowds, had compassion for them, and healed those who were sick?
I could stop right here and say, “Look to the example of Christ and go and do likewise.”
But our story doesn’t end here. As it began to get late, some of the disciples came to Jesus with some concerns. It’s getting late and these people are probably hungry. We don’t have enough food here to feed them all, and we’re in the middle of nowhere. Send them away before they turn into a hungry mob.
To a certain degree, what they say makes sense. A bunch of folks have been walking around the lake shore all day trying to get close to Jesus. The place where they are is isolated, so they can’t just run down to the corner store or the local McDonald’s down the street. We know that hungry can easily turn into hangry. No one wants that in a large crowd.
But Jesus takes this chance to teach his disciples even more about compassion. When he had seen the large crowds, Jesus had compassion and did what he as able to do for them. He knew what he had to give, and he offered it to them. Now he is asking the disciples to do the same. He is telling them to follow his example.
The disciples don’t have much, just five loaves of bread and two fish. But Jesus’ response makes it clear. “That may be the limit of what you have to give, but that doesn’t mean you don’t give it.”
Of course, I feel certain that the disciples shook their heads in disbelief when Jesus told them to give what little they had anyway. What good are five loaves of bread and two fish going to be even just for Jesus and his disciples, much less the large crowds around them? Maybe 10 people get something before it is gone. But they do as he said.
The text tells us that 5000 men, not counting the women and children (which, let's be honest, too many people still treat like they don't count), had something to eat. After everyone ate their fill, twelve baskets full of leftovers were collected.
Obviously, there was some sort of miracle that day. Most of the time, I think we hear this as a miracle of multiplication. Jesus miraculously multiplies the food so that the food goes farther than expected, feeding thousands from a handful of loaves and two fish.
But I heard a preacher once that had a different idea. What if the miracle that day was that everyone there saw the basket come around and added what they had brought with them to the pile? What if, after seeing Jesus’ compassion for the sick and the disciples’ compassion for the hungry, after seeing Jesus sharing what he was able to share and seeing the disciples sharing what they were able to share, those in the crowd who had food with them did the same?
We don’t always know what will become of our compassion. We may think we don’t have anything to give. Or maybe we look at what we do have to give and think it isn’t enough so why bother. But Jesus shows us that the point of compassion is doing what you can when you can simply because someone else has a need that you can help with.
There was a time in the early days of the church that the community gathered around the table for a meal. Each person brought what they had to contribute to the meal and then each took a portion of food so that all were fed. We know this because we read in Paul’s letters how angry he got when those of means who didn’t need to work showed up early and ate and drank before those of lesser means even showed up.
Another early church writer, named Justin Martyr, gives us a glimpse of the worship life of his congregation. According to Justin, when the community gathered for worship, they gave a portion of the food brought for communion to the deacons for distribution to those in need in the community.
We see in these examples that we are called to do what we can simply because others are in need. Chances are, the people of Andrews Chapel cannot feed every single hungry person in Coweta County. But we are able to do something. Simply because others are hungry.
While Paul’s community may have shared a full meal together, most of us come to a different table in worship. We come to a table typically set only with a bit of bread and a bit of juice. It may not be much, but it is what we have. It is a reminder of Christ’s compassion, an example of our call to feed one another, to love one another, simply because of our need for one another. It is a reminder that sometimes the smallest thing is still enough.
Christ invites us to this table, simply because we exist. Christ invites all of us because we are all beloved children of God. Christ has compassion and wants a relationship with each of us. Christ gives us what he can simply because we have a need.
And afterward, like the disciples, Christ asks us to take what we have, to combine what little we have, and to see how far it can go.
Christ asks us to have compassion for others.
He tells us in the Gospel of John that when we do so, when we show compassion and love, others will know that we are his followers.
As we gather in spirit around the table that Christ has set before us, regardless of how much or how little that table may hold, let us meditate on what it means to have compassion and love for one another.
Christ looks upon us with compassion. He offers us this example and calls on us to do the same. Fed by the love of God, let us go forth to love God and to serve our neighbors. Let us go forth to serve God and to love our neighbors.