compassion

Limitless Compassion

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Limitless Compassion” Luke 13:10-17

Jimmy has spent most of his life feeling invisible. Born with developmental disability and a host of physical issues, he spent most of his childhood in foster care. He attended school, riding in a special bus and learning in special classrooms. Other kids called him names: retard, freak, spazz, dumbo. Nowadays, Jimmy is largely ignored as he stands outside his group home to watch the cars drive past. Eyes look past him as if he isn’t even there.

Heather feels invisible. Every day at lunch she sits in the corner of the cafeteria by herself. She wears outdated hand-me-downs and packs her lunch in a re-used brown paper bag. In gym class, no one picks her for their team. When it’s time for group projects, no one wants to work with her. She sees cliques of friends laughing in the hallways and wishes she were part of that. Eyes look past or around her as if she isn’t even there.

Bert and Jean feel invisible. They had been retired for a number of years when the pandemic forced them to also step back from their civic commitments. Their phone used to ring off the hook. But now, not so much. Many of their friends have passed on. Their kids and grandkids are just so busy. Some weeks, the Meals on Wheels driver is their only conversation partner. They don’t get out much, but when they do, eyes look past or around them as if they aren’t even there.

The world is filled with neighbors who feel alienated, invisible, and alone. You might think that would awaken a mass wave of empathetic outreach, but it doesn’t. Social scientists say our disregard for vulnerable others is a psychological phenomenon known as “compassion collapse.” Dr. Caryl Cameron, director of the Empathy and Moral Psychology Lab at Penn State University, writes that “People tend to feel and act less compassionately for multiple suffering victims than for a single suffering victim…. Precisely when it seems to be needed the most, compassion is felt the least.”

There are reasons for that. We are finite beings with limited resources. We may feel that our action (or inaction) doesn’t make a difference, so we withdraw. Or, we sometimes don’t get involved to protect ourselves. In the face of widespread tragedy and need, it becomes crushing to take on the pain of others. We grow numb and feel powerless.

The bent over woman was invisible to her neighbors. She had felt alone and unseen for eighteen years. In the world of the first century, she was a marginalized person—someone who lived outside the community of the righteous because she was physically deformed, spirit-possessed, and a woman. Anyone who has ever had a bad back can imagine the terrible discomfort that she must have felt: muscle spasms; neck pain; difficulty in rising, standing, or walking; the inability to look up and out at the world around her. At some point in her long years of suffering, compassion collapse kicked in for her community. She stopped being a neighbor and simply become the “bent over woman.” She would not have been seated in church on the day that Jesus preached. Instead, she would have been excluded, waiting at the entrance, hoping that someone would see her and speak a kind word into her life of suffering.

Only one person in the synagogue saw the bent over woman. It was Jesus. As only Jesus could, he instantly knew her suffering and need, and his heart went out to her with a limitless compassion that stretched the bounds of what was socially and religiously acceptable in his day. Carolyn Sharp, who teaches Hebrew Bible at Yale, notes that what one could or couldn’t do on the sabbath day was hotly contested in the first century. In fact, the Mishnah Shabbat, a collection of rabbinic teachings, forbade 39 different kinds of labor on the sabbath: sowing fields, baking, building, traveling, and more. It did not forbid healing. In fact, rabbis generally agreed that in life threatening situations, it was acceptable to heal. The rabbis divided, though, over whether healing for non-critical conditions, like being bent over, was permitted.

That’s a long walk to say that Jesus saw the woman and chose to act in controversial, even scandalous, ways. First, he invited her into the sanctuary, into the community of the righteous—to the Moses Seat—where he had been teaching. Then, Jesus did something even more provocative. He laid his hands on her bent over back and raised her up straight, freeing her from the disability that had long held her in bondage. Jesus next concluded his sermon for the day with an interpretation of scripture that silenced the critics. If God would permit a farmer to unbind, water, and feed livestock on the sabbath day, then surely it was permitted to free a woman from the spirit that had long bound her. Jesus gave the bent over woman a proper name, “Daughter of Abraham,” a sister to all the worshipers that day.

The world is filled with invisible people. Like Jimmy, they live with disability. Like Heather, they are friendless school-aged kids. Like Bert and Jean, they are elderly and alone. They are the non-English speaking workers who clean our hotel rooms or pick our crops. They are the economically challenged neighbors who frequent the Food Pantry or collect the empty cans and bottles after rugby weekend. They’d like to be seen, but eyes look past or around them as if they aren’t even there.

Jesus’ scandalous actions in a crowded synagogue one sabbath morning call us to see our invisible neighbors, to welcome them into the heart of the community, to make a caring and healing difference in their lives. Thomas Merton wrote that compassion is the keen awareness of the interdependence of all things. We cannot find wholeness—shalom—apart from community, and communities cannot be whole until the outsider, the excluded, and the marginalized are welcomed, accepted, valued, and included. In a world where some characterize compassion and empathy as weakness, today’s teaching from Jesus is a bold contradiction and a call to action.

Of course, there’s only one problem: compassion collapse. In a world where need can be ubiquitous, our compassion can be overwhelmed. We say, what can one person do in the face of such large-scale pain? We grow numb. We close our eyes. People become invisible. What are we to do?

Peter W. Marty, editor of the Christian Century, says that he builds compassion for those who live in difficult circumstances through the simple practice of imagining what it’s like to walk in their shoes. He does this when he encounters people in daily life who perform jobs that he’s not sure he could manage or tolerate for even a day. Whether it’s an individual enduring dangerous work conditions, tedious assignments, a hostile environment, or depressingly low wages, Marty tries to picture trading his life for theirs. It quickly his alters perspective and shifts his assumptions about how easy or hard life can be for those who undertake hazardous or dispiriting work that often goes unnoticed, work for which we typically feel indifference.

Researchers David DeSteno and Daniel Lim have conducted research to learn how we can have more resilient compassion. Through a series of studies, Lim and DeSteno identified a few factors that enliven our compassion and enhance our capacity to act. It begins with the belief that small steps can make a difference. We can’t solve all the problems of the world, but we can make a simple difference in the life of someone who needs our encouragement and support. It also helps to remember our own experiences of adversity. Remembering our past challenges, suffering, or need motivates us to accompany others. Finally, our personal practice of prayer and meditation can help us to be present to those invisible neighbors. Taking the time to pray and reflect allows us to trust that our actions serve a holy purpose and God is with us. When we are clean out of compassion, we can borrow some of the limitless compassion of Jesus. The world may be filled with invisible people, but it doesn’t have to be. Jesus believes we can make a difference in the lives of those who feel that they are on the outside looking in, longing for care, connection, and community.  

This week, we’ll encounter them, those invisible neighbors. They’ll be sitting alone in Stewarts. They’ll be smoking outside their group home. They’ll be struggling to carry groceries to the car. They’ll fear they will miss that important doctor’s appointment because they don’t have a ride.

Let’s open our eyes and hearts. Take the time to see your invisible neighbor. Imagine what it’s like to walk in their shoes. Let’s remember our own experiences of adversity and isolation: that bitter break-up, the boss who bullied us, the health crisis we endured, the time we went broke. Let’s allow those suffering times to awaken our empathy for others and build our resolve to act. Undertake small compassionate acts and trust that they make a difference. Smile. Listen. Share a meal. Offer a ride. Bring someone to church. Finally, let’s ground our action in reflection and prayer. Remember Jesus, who healed a bent-over woman on the sabbath day and continues to long for the wholeness and redemption of our world.

Resources

Jared E. Alcantara. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 24, 2025. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17-6

Jeannine K. Brown. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 22, 2010. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17

Ira Brent Driggers. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 25, 2019. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17-4

Annelise Jolley. “The Paradox of Our Collapsing Compassion” in John Templeton Foundation News, Nov. 20,2024. Accessed online at https://www.templeton.org/news/the-paradox-of-our-collapsing-compassion

Peter W. Marty. “A Failure of Compassion” in The Christian Century, June 2024. Accessed online at https://www.christiancentury.org/first-words/failure-compassion

Carolyn J. Sharp. “Commentary on Luke 13:10-17” in Preaching This Week, August 21, 2022. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-21-3/commentary-on-luke-1310-17-5

Luke 13:10-17

10 Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. 11 And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. 12 When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” 13 When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. 14 But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured and not on the Sabbath day.” 15 But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger and lead it to water? 16 And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” 17 When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things being done by him.

Photo by Chris F on Pexels.com

Come as a Child

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Come as a Child” Mark 9:30-37

Perhaps the only positive outcome of the COVID-19 pandemic was a temporary decrease in the number of American children living in poverty. Federal economic security programs kept 53 million people above the poverty line in both 2020 and 2021. Child tax credits, increased food assistance, the extension of unemployment benefits, and three rounds of stimulus checks drove child poverty down to an all-time low of 5.2%. With the expiration of these programs in 2022, child poverty was again on the rise. According to the Annie E. Casie Foundation, 16% of American children now live in poverty. That’s 11.6 million kids. New York’s child poverty rates are among the worst in the nation. We rank forty-first out of the fifty states.

The likelihood of child poverty is higher here in the North Country. In Franklin County, 21.3% of our children live in poverty. Those numbers are higher for families of color. About 32% of racial ethnic children live below the federal poverty line. The impact of child poverty can last a lifetime. Impoverished families have less access to healthy food and quality medical care. A poverty diet is high in processed foods, fat, and carbohydrates. That’s a recipe for childhood obesity. Children in poverty are more likely to live in substandard housing, experience homelessness, and be exposed to crime and substance abuse in at-risk neighborhoods. Children in poverty have lower readiness when entering school and are more likely to have developmental challenges. Families in poverty live in chronic stress that leaves kids feeling anxious, depressed, and frightened.

When we further consider families who work in low wage jobs that lift them above the federal poverty threshold but don’t pay enough to meet monthly expenses, then we begin to see the enormity of the child poverty crisis. The Ouimette family of AuSable Forks is a case in point. William works for the town of Jay’s highway department and also serves as a volunteer firefighter. Miranda is a stay-at-home mom to their three kids between the ages of 6 and 9. William says, “It’s harder and harder for people just to get by on a job like working for the state or the town or anything now.” The Ouimettes struggle to pay for essential things like car repairs and new items for their kids. They fear they will be priced out of the home where their family has resided for generations.

Child poverty is nothing new. In Jesus’ day, 90% of people lived in poverty with little resource for rising above the circumstance of their birth. Within that impoverished time, children were particularly vulnerable. They were considered the lowest status members of society. Children lacked legal standing and protection as individuals and were instead deemed the property of their fathers. Indeed, children could be sold into slavery to settle a father’s debts. Although children were seen as a gift from God, a safeguard against extreme poverty in old age, children were expected to be unconditionally obedient and subject to the strict discipline of parents. The Book of Proverbs instructs, “Those who spare the rod hate their children, but those who love them are diligent to discipline them.” According to Exodus and Leviticus, the punishment for children who curse their parents or fail to honor them was death – judgment and stoning by the community. In the Gentile world, unwanted newborns were routinely exposed, left out in the open to die—or to be taken in by strangers and raised as slaves or prostitutes.

Given the low standing of children in the disciples’ world, we can imagine the shock that they felt when Jesus placed a child among them as someone to be welcomed and emulated. In today’s gospel reading, Jesus warned his friends of the suffering and death that would await him in Jerusalem. But along the way to Capernaum, instead of discussing better ways to protect Jesus and guard against betrayal, the twelve argued about who among them was the greatest. They compared genealogies and miracles, sermons and bank accounts, patrons and illustrious acquaintances, all in an effort to assert their personal worth. That child that Jesus held in his arms didn’t make any sense. Why would Jesus identify with a child? Why would he expect them to welcome and serve the lowest status person in the room?

Biblical scholar J.D.M. Derrett says that when Jesus scooped the little child up in his arms, Jesus was engaging in a symbolic act. In the Hebrew tradition, receiving or placing someone else’s child on your knee or in your embrace in front of the witnessing community was a rite of adoption.  We see this in the Book of Genesis, when the childless Sarah and Rebecca brought their servant women to their husbands to conceive children, insisting that those children would be born “on their knees” as rightful sons of the patriarchs. If J.D.M. Derrett is right, then Jesus was saying that the most vulnerable of people, like children, especially belong to Jesus. The disciples could not love and honor him without loving and honoring them.

Beyond that simple call to humble service, Jesus was reminding his friends, many of whom had left their families behind to follow him, that he had adopted them. They were his children. As his sons and daughters, they must demonstrate toward him the obedience, honor, and respect that they would a father. The disciples were meant to be brothers and sisters in Jesus’ family, not rivals for greatness. That tender embrace that the child found in Jesus’ arms reflected the love and support that the disciples found in Christ, who welcomed them, not because of their great achievements, but simply because he chose to love them, regardless of their status. In that unconditional love, they would find the courage and inspiration to be servants of all.

As messages go, today’s reading is clear. The “least of these” are deserving of the service and welcome that we would extend to the Lord. When we see vulnerable neighbors, we are to think of Jesus, responding with the sort of compassion and care that were the hallmark of Jesus’ earthly ministry. Beyond that, Jesus would have his followers see that in God’s Kingdom there is no us and them—no low-status children and high-status disciples. Rather, we are all God’s children. The social and psychological constructs that we create to assert our greatness—that separate rich from poor, have from have-nots, first world from third world—those constructs are false dichotomies. We are kin, all children of an infinitely loving God. We belong to one another, just as we belong to God.

If the pandemic taught us anything, it is that we can end childhood poverty. If we can lower the rate of childhood poverty to 5.2% in only two years, imagine what we could do if people really cared, if we had public policy that regarded vulnerable children the way that Jesus embraced that child. There is enough. We just lack the social and political will to make a lasting difference in the lives of families who need it most. We do not believe that every child is deserving of unconditional love and welcome. We pitch a paltry ten percent of our federal budget at programs that address poverty while income inequality in our nation—the gap between rich and poor—grows and grows and grows. Lord, have mercy upon us.

Jesus thinks his disciples can do better. We can do better. He imagines a world where no child lives in poverty. It’s a world where our most vulnerable neighbors are known and held, blessed and helped. It’s a world where disciples realize that true greatness is found not in our professional titles or advanced degrees, not in our big bank accounts or public accolades, not in our athletic prowess or our physical beauty. It’s a world where the greatest of all are servants of all. It’s a world that looks a lot like his Father’s Kingdom. He hopes that we will imagine that world, too. May it be so.

Resources

Danilo Trisi. “Government’s Pandemic Response Turned a Would-Be Poverty Surge into a Record Poverty Decline” in Center on Budget and Policy Priorities Reports, August 29, 2023. Accessed online at Government’s Pandemic Response Turned a Would-Be Poverty Surge Into a Record Poverty Decline | Center on Budget and Policy Priorities (cbpp.org)

Alek LaShomb. “Efforts to Address Child Poverty in New York’s North Country” in WCAX News, June 14, 2024. Accessed online at Efforts to address child poverty in New York’s North Country (wcax.com)

Courtney V. Buggs. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 22, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Micah D. Kiel. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 20, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 9:30-37” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 19, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 9:30-37 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Thomas P. Napoli. “New York Children in Need,” a report of the Office of the NYS Comptroller, May 2024. Accessed online at Report Titl (ny.gov)

Mark 9:30-37

30 They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it, 31 for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” 32 But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him. 33 Then they came to Capernaum, and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” 34 But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. 35 He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” 36 Then he took a little child and put it among them, and taking it in his arms he said to them, 37 “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

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Real Authority

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Real Authority” Mark 1:21-28

“Let’s get out of here! Floor it!” My friend Amy yelled in my ear. She had a death grip on my arm that would leave finger-shaped bruises.

I sat there frozen while Dr. Spahr tapped on my driver’s side window.

Dr. Spahr was the ultimate authority at CB West. At a time when dress codes were changing and administrators wore khakis, button down shirts, and blue blazers, Principal Spahr always wore a suit, black or charcoal. His somber neckties popped against starched white shirts. His thick, black-framed glasses might be considered hipster nowadays, but back then, they were seriously old school and uncool. He rarely smiled. He prowled the hallways with a ninja-like stealth that would catch you unaware. A trip to Dr. Spahr’s office could result in detention, suspension, or worse.

You did not want to run into Dr. Spahr when you were up to mischief, especially when you were on school property on a weekend night like we were. There was a collective gasp of anguish from my friends when I rolled down the car window. We were doomed.

Our reading from Mark’s gospel establishes Jesus as the new authority in Capernaum. Jesus was reading and interpreting scripture as a guest teacher at the synagogue on the sabbath day. The excellence of his words impressed everyone. Then, when an unclean spirit spoke out in the midst of the congregation, Jesus silenced it and demonstrated even more authority, driving the demon out of the afflicted man and setting him free. It was a synagogue assembly that no one would forget – great preaching and a miraculous healing, all thanks to Jesus who demonstrated a new and unprecedented authority.

The amazement of the people of Capernaum seems a little naïve to us. After all, we’ve been reading Mark’s gospel. We know that at Jesus’s baptism God spoke from the heavens saying, “This is my Son the Beloved.” And when Jesus was walking along the lakeshore, all he had to do was invite those fishermen to join him and they left everything behind. We expect great things from Jesus when he enters the synagogue. But those people in Capernaum? Not so much.

Those low expectations may have stemmed from the fact that there were plenty of “authorities” in Jesus’ day, but Jesus wasn’t one of them. There was a Roman garrison at Capernaum, and the centurion in charge controlled his men and the village. He wielded authority that came from the empire, with foreign occupation and the threat of violence.

Regional power was held by Herod Antipas, the Roman-appointed tetrarch of Galilee and Perea. Herod held authority to rule and collect taxes to support his kingdom and his emperor, oppressing and imprisoning those who might ask questions or resist his demands.

When it came to matters of religion, all eyes turned to the Temple in Jerusalem.  There, priests held an authority that passed from father to son through the long generations. Standing in the middle between the people and God Almighty, a priest could pronounce you clean or unclean, offer sacrifices to atone for your sins, exclude you from the community of the righteous, or welcome you back home.

And when it came to scripture, authority was best left to the scribes, scholars who spent a lifetime studying the Hebrew Bible and memorizing the long history of biblical interpretation known as the traditions of the elders. The scribe’s authority derived from their eloquence, encyclopedic knowledge, and the prestige of the rabbis with whom they had apprenticed.

Roman commanders, client kings, priests, and scribes, these were the voices of authority for the people who had gathered for worship on that Sabbath morning in Capernaum. Yet one sermon from Jesus and one act of healing had people buzzing. Here was a new authority that made them sit up and notice. Here was an authority unlike any they had seen before.

Perhaps the buzz was about the big difference between how Jesus used his power and how all those first century authorities exercised their power. Jesus didn’t use his authority to exert control or curry political favor. He didn’t use his power to amass a fortune or build an impressive reputation. He didn’t use his authority to elevate himself above others or establish his unparalleled expertise. Instead, that sabbath day in Capernaum revealed that Jesus would use his power for others. He reminded those worshippers of God’s great love for God’s people. He chose to reach out with compassion in response to suffering.  In God’s Kingdom, these are the hallmarks of real authority: to speak in ways that make the love of God known and to act in ways that bring healing and wholeness to others. This is the heart of the ministry that God would empower Jesus to pursue.

This is the sixth time that I have preached on this passage. That’s the blessing and challenge of years of experience. I often like to focus on the choice we face when we read this story, the same choice that those worshippers in Capernaum faced. Will we recognize Jesus’ authority for our lives? Will we build a life around him, placing the Lord at the center of our families and workplaces, our civic commitments and even the choices we make in the voting booth. It isn’t an easy thing to do, because it requires us to make some tough decisions about all those other authorities out there, the ones that would like to run our show. Year in and year out, I see this congregation making the tough choice to put God at the center, establishing the priorities that Jesus hoped his first listeners would make.

This time through the lectionary cycle, I have been thinking beyond our choice to affirm Jesus as Lord to questions about our own authority. Whether we are parents or grandparents, teachers or managers, community leaders or healthcare providers, elders or deacons, we have each been entrusted with authority. We choose daily how we will use the power that is at our disposal. Will we make God’s love known? Will we act with compassion to ease the suffering of others? I think these are the most essential questions in the life of faithful people. The choice for love, the practice of compassion, I think this is the heart of the ministry that God would empower us to pursue.

At the start of this message, I left myself rolling down the car window to face the authority of the totally terrifying Dr. Spahr. What kind of principal hangs out at school on a Saturday evening just to spoil the shenanigans of high school pranksters? He was even wearing his suit! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a can of spray paint roll out from under the passenger seat—a fact that the eagle-eyed Dr. Spahr would be sure to notice.

Dr. Spahr recognized me right away. We went to the same church, and my Mom had taught at the high school for a number of years. Once the window was down, the conversation went something like this.

Dr. Spahr: Why, Joann! What are you doing on school property in the middle of a Saturday night?

Everyone in the car: Nothing!

We were busted. There was no getting around it. I saw a future of detentions ahead of me. If the spray paint was brought into evidence, we were talking suspension. If it became known that although I was in the driver’s seat, I did not have a driver’s license, then who knew what horrors awaited me.

I must have looked pretty pitiful. I was an honors student, but things weren’t great at home, and Dr. Spahr knew it. The acrimony between my parents was showing up in some unfortunate ways in us kids. I wasn’t the only case in point. My brother had been in the dreaded office of Dr. Spahr twice that year, once for fighting and another time for setting off a fire extinguisher in a hallway (which was probably also related to fighting). That really did result in a suspension. My goose was cooked.

Dr. Spahr gave me a long hard look. He peered off into the night through those thick black glasses. He was clearly weighing his options. Finally, he sighed and patted the driver’s side door. “You girls go home,” he said. “I don’t want to hear about any more trouble.” He looked pointedly at what had rolled out from under the seat. We wasted no time, dropping the car into gear and driving off into the dark.

I’ve thought about Dr. Spahr over the years, all that authority at CB West. On at least one Saturday night, he helped a teenager know the love of God and the compassion that Jesus would have us extend to one another.

Resources:

Paul S. Berge. “Commentary on Mark 1:21-28” in Preaching This Week, Jan. 29, 2012. Accessed online at Home – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Mark 1:21-28” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 1, 2015. Accessed online at Home – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Stephen Hultgren. “Commentary on Mark 1:21-28” in Preaching This Week, Feb. 1, 2009. Accessed online at Home – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

David S. Jacobsen. “Commentary on Mark 1:21-28” in Preaching This Week, Jan. 28, 2024. Accessed online at Home – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Mark 1:21-28

21They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. 22They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. 23Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, 24and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” 25But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” 26And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. 27They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” 28At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

Come to the Table

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Come to the Table” Matthew 14:13-21

On July seventeenth, Russia withdrew from the Black Sea Grain Deal, which safeguarded Ukraine’s export of wheat, corn, barley, and sunflower oil. The Russians have launched a series of subsequent attacks on grain supplies in key Ukrainian cities, like the July 21st bombing in Odessa that destroyed 60,000 tons of grain, enough to feed 270,000 people for a year. Ukrainian farmers grow 10% of the world’s wheat exports, 15% of the corn, 13% of the barley, and more than 50% of the world’s sunflower oil.  57% of those exports go to developing countries in Africa and Asia. Secretary of State Antony Blinken says that Russia is doing something unconscionable: weaponizing food. Beyond the violence and politics, concern looms of a global food crisis spurred by the cut in exports and the consequent surge in grain prices.

Hunger is on the rise around the world after a decade of decline. There are 783 million hungry people in our world.  Between 2019 and 2022, the number of undernourished people grew by 150 million. 14 million children suffer from severe acute malnutrition. They experience stunted growth, cognitive impairment, and a host of other hunger-related crises. The hungriest place on the planet today is Afghanistan, where 90% of the people live in poverty and six million are starving.

Hunger is on the rise in our country. With the end of the COVID-19 pandemic, food supports like free school lunches for children and increased SNAP benefits for families have ended. Add to those diminished benefits the rapid inflation of food prices and the result is more hungry neighbors. The most recent Household Pulse Survey by the Census Department found that in June 26.5 million Americans were living in food-insecure households. That means that meals were skipped or skimpy because the cupboard was bare. That poll reflects a 12% increase from a year ago. Nationwide, use of food pantries is up 22%. If you talk to any of our Food Pantry volunteers, they’ll tell you that the number of local households needing emergency help is also on the rise.

Our reading from Matthew’s gospel is all about feeding hungry people. Jesus had retreated to a wilderness place to mourn the death of his cousin John the Baptist, but the crowds followed him. Moved with compassion by their need for his help, Jesus jettisoned his plans for quiet prayer time and spent the day healing his neighbors. As the day drew to a close, the disciples saw a looming crisis: hungry people. With only enough resources to barely feed themselves, the disciples resolved to send the crowd away. Let them go to the neighboring towns, they implored Jesus, so that they can find food.

With two millennia of insight, it’s tempting for us to roll our eyes at those disciples, who never seem to truly understand what Jesus is trying to teach them. But the hunger of our local and global neighbors can feel as daunting for us as that hungry crowd was for Jesus’ friends. We read the headlines about Ukrainian grain stores bombed into oblivion and we feel shocked and powerless. We hear those statistics about growing world hunger and starving Afghanis, and we feel overwhelmed. We read about inflation and rising food prices and we say, “Tell me about it. Have you seen what has happened to our household budget?” World hunger is demoralizing. Our resources are too meager. Our vision is too limited. Wouldn’t it be easier to send everyone away? Or wouldn’t it be great if someone else stepped up to deal with this mess?

Jesus reminded his friends that the buck stopped there when it came to hungry people. After all, God was passionate about feeding the hungry. God had rained bread from heaven, brought forth water from the rock, and sent quails into the camp to sustain the hungry Israelites in the wilderness. Later, through the Prophet Ezekiel, God had condemned as bad shepherds the selfish leaders who live in abundance but failed to nurture and nourish their human flocks. According to God through the words of the Prophet Isaiah (58:7), sharing our bread with the hungry is an act of worship, a sign of our devotion to the Almighty. In feeding the hungry, those who dare to keep the faith are pursuing the passion of God, even as they anticipate the coming of God’s Kingdom.  “You feed them,” Jesus told his friends.

This church has long understood that to be a child of God and a follower of Jesus summons us to engage the hunger of our world head-on. When we bring monthly food contributions to the pack basket at the side entrance or share our spare change in the 2-cents-a-meal offering, we are pursuing God’s passion. When we grow healthy vegetables and beautiful flowers in the church garden and when we lace up our sneakers to walk and raise funds in the CROP Walk, we are engaging in acts of worship that are pleasing to God. When we open our church doors to provide a home for the Saranac Lake Interfaith Food Pantry, we are honoring Jesus’ command. We are living into those words that Jesus spoke to fearful and overwhelmed disciples in the wilderness, “You feed them.”

The disciples didn’t have enough. Five paltry barley loaves. Two small dried fish. It was a meager meal for one humble family at best.  It was against their better judgment—and in spite of their growling bellies—to place that inadequate fare in the hands of Jesus. I suspect that it took a leap of faith. It demanded the acknowledgment that although they couldn’t see the vision or imagine a changed future, Jesus could—and they could trust in that. Filled with questions and worry, they gave what they had to Jesus. Lo and behold! As the bread was blessed and broken and shared, the unimaginable happened. Truly and impossibly, everyone ate. There was more than enough.

I don’t have a solution for the broken Black Sea Grain Deal. I can’t end the war and drought in Ethiopia that have unleashed the specter of famine. I can’t oust the Taliban and reverse the economic catastrophe that is Afghanistan. But I trust that when we place our limited resources in the hands of Jesus, something improbable and life-changing happens. All our little bits make a big difference when they are blessed and shared in pursuit of God’s passion. The hungry are fed. There can be more than enough.

This morning, we share a simple meal together. We feast at the Lord’s Table. Bread will be broken. The cup will be blessed. This communion remembers the Lord who fed hungry people with a miracle of multiplied loaves and fish. This communion remembers the Lord who did not count the cost in giving of himself for the salvation of God’s people. This communion also looks ahead to that bountiful feast in the Kingdom of God, when all will be fed and satisfied. This communion is a call to action, here and now, so that the hungry and hungry of heart may be fed.

“You feed them,” the Lord instructs disciples who feel short on both resources and inspiration. May we have the courage to place ourselves in Jesus’ hands and go forth to be bread for this hungry world.

Resources

Jennifer Kaalund. “Commentary on Matthew 14:13-21” in Preaching This Week, Aug. 6, 2017. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-18/commentary-on-matthew-1413-21-6

Warren Carter. “Commentary on Matthew 14:13-21” in Preaching This Week, Aug. 6, 2017. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-18/commentary-on-matthew-1413-21-6

Jennifer Hansler. “Concerns Mount Over Potential for Food Crisis Amid Russian Moves to Cripple Ukrainian Grain Exports” in CNN Politics, July 27, 2023. Accessed online at www.cnn.com.

Leah Douglas. “US Hunger Rates Rise as Pandemic Aid Ends, Data Shows” in Reuters US News, June 28, 2023. Accessed online at ww.reuters.com/world/us.

World hunger facts are from Action Against Hunger. Accessed online, July 28, 2023 at actionagainsthunger.org.

Matthew 14:13-21

13Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. 14When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. 15When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” 16Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” 17They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” 18And he said, “Bring them here to me.” 19Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. 20And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. 21And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

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The Same Inside

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Poem for a Tuesday — “The Same Inside” by Anna Swir

“Walking to your place for a love feast
I saw at a street corner
an old beggar woman.
I took her hand,
kissed her delicate cheek,
we talked, she was
the same inside as I am,
from the same kind,
I sensed this instantly
as a dog knows by scent
another dog.
I gave her money,
I could not part from her.
After all, one needs
someone who is close.
And then I no longer knew
why I was walking to your place.”

— from A Book of Luminous Things, ed. Czeslaw Milosz. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1996, p. 200.

Anna Swir (Anna Świrszczyńska) emerged from humble origins to become one of the most respected Polish poets of the twentieth century. She served in the Resistance during World War II and worked as a military nurse in the Warsaw Uprising. She wrote frankly about death, war, and the female body. She published nine collections of poetry, as well as plays and stories for children. She received a number of literary awards in her native Poland. She died in Krakow in 1984.

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“Boy at the Window”

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Poem for a Tuesday — “Boy at the Window” by Richard Wilbur

Seeing the snowman standing all alone
In dusk and cold is more than he can bear.
The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare
A night of gnashings and enormous moan.
His tearful sight can hardly reach to where
The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes
Returns him such a God-forsaken stare
As outcast Adam gave to paradise.

The man of snow is, nonetheless, content,
Having no wish to go inside and die.
Still, he is moved to see the youngster cry.
Though frozen water is his element,
He melts enough to drop from one soft eye
A trickle of the purest rain, a tear
For the child at the bright pane surrounded by
Such warmth, such light, such love, and so much fear.

in Good Poems, New York: Penguin Books, 2000. p. 319

Richard Purdy Wilbur published his first poem at age 8. He went on to win the Pulitzer Prize in poetry in 1957 and 1989. He served as the Poet Laureate of the United States in 1987. Wilbur was profoundly shaped by his experience in the Army during World War II. He once described how the war changed his writing, saying, “One does not use poetry for its major purposes, as a means to organize oneself and the world, until one’s world somehow gets out of hand.” He taught for decades at Amherst College and Wesleyan University. He died in 2017 in Belmont, Massachusetts.

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