Whenever we hear one of these stories about Jesus feeding a crowd of thousands with only a few loaves of bread and a couple fish, we most often place ourselves in the story by identifying with the tired, hungry crowd or the confused, overwhelmed disciples suddenly feeling really inadequate when asked to feed so many people. But what if we took a moment to identify with Jesus in this story? There is a lot more to Jesus here than his miraculous act of blessing bread and fish into instant abundance.
It’s important to note what happens immediately before one of Jesus’ greatest miracles. The scene is a different kind of feast, held around the tables of Herod’s palace. Turns out, food wasn’t the only thing being served on fancy dishes. In a gruesome turn of events, Herod’s wife requests the head of John the Baptist, on a platter.
When we meet Jesus in today’s story, he had only just heard and begun digesting the news that John–his predecessor and cousin–was brutally executed. His grief and heartache was so great that he withdraws, by boat, to a deserted place by himself. He withdraws. When he returns to shore, the crowds are there, waiting for him. And yet, consumed by loss and grief, Matthew writes that “Jesus had compassion for them and cured their sick.” What’s the greater miracle, the multiplication of the bread and fish, or that Jesus had compassion or anything else left to give?
I think about this question because I know for many of us, it feels like we don’t have much left to give. Over four months into this pandemic, we are now faced with the looming potential of another shutdown and the reality that all of this won’t be over for a really long time. The trauma that we have experienced–even if we’re lucky enough not to have lost a loved one to COVID–continues to take its toll. We’re tired from juggling everything, we’re wiped out from decision-fatigue, having to constantly make impossible choices, and I sense we are also starting to feel compassion fatigue as well, as the protests around the nation continue and the coronavirus death toll–approaching 150,000–continues to rise.
Too often, it feels like all we can say is echo the words of the disciples, “We have nothing here. I have nothing here.” Author and sociologist Brene Brown refers to scarcity as the “never enough” problem. We are never enough good enough, never perfect enough, etc., nor do we have enough time, enough money, enough compassion. Her research suggests that scarcity thrives in environments in which it is easy to feel shame, environments that are steeped in comparison and fractured by disengagement.
What do we do when we feel like we don’t have anything more to give? How do we act with compassion when we’re emotionally and physically walking on a tightrope?
As usual, Jesus points us in the right direction. Jesus moves us from a mindset of deficiency to one of sufficiency by providing a counter-narrative of worthiness, compassion, connection, and abundance. Even in his suffering, even as he wrestled with a tangle of human emotion, he trusts in God’s abundance. He trusts that God will provide him with the compassion needed to see the humanity of the crowd and addressing their needs. He trusts that God will provide over and above what is need to meet the hunger of thousands.
The tired, hungry world needs our compassion now more than ever. We need to show compassion by doing everything we can to protect the health of our neighbors, following the rules and protocols provided by our public health experts and local officials. We need to show compassion by continuing to be attune to the needs of the most vulnerable in our communities. We need to show compassion by acknowledging who is being most affected by this pandemic and why. We need to show compassion by pushing back against the evil forces that seek to divide us. We need to show compassion by listening to our black and brown sisters and brothers. We need to show compassion by continuing to work for justice, turning our anger and frustration with the way things are into real action that will inspire hope for a better tomorrow.
And when it feels like our compassion, like everything else, is running on empty, God hears us and God fills us.
It can be hard to let go and trust in God’s promise to provide abundance, especially when all we see around us are mere scraps. It can be hard to let go and trust in God’s presence when we are burdened by responsibility and the troubles of the world. Yet God still graciously extends the invitation to experience God’s abundance.
“Come, you that are thirsty, come to the waters; you that have no money, come, buy and eat.” The prophet Isaiah urges us to remember the covenant God made with our ancestors, a covenant made with us in our baptism, that God’s love for us is like a cup overflowing and that God can use the things that we have–limited as we might think they are–to create abundance for all.
When we trust in God, there is more than enough.