Sermon:  "Acts of Compassion"
Date:   July 31, 2011
Minister:  The Rev. Charles Ensley

Lesson:  Matthew 14:13-21

Today’s lesson from Matthew’s Gospel begins abruptly, as if in mid-sentence.  “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there…to a deserted place by himself.” (14:13)  Heard what?  The brutal death by beheading of John the Baptist, the person who had baptized Jesus.  This man was somehow related to Jesus; his mother Mary and John’s mother Elizabeth were related.  They both were pregnant with their sons at the same time.  So this person who was killed was not only presumably a relative of Jesus, but he was also present at and responsible for that most momentous baptismal event when a voice from heaven recognized Jesus as God’s beloved Son.

It is understandable then that Jesus would want to get away from the crowds, even from his own followers for a while.  Many of us, when grieving, prefer to be quiet and apart from our regular responsibilities for a while.  However, that was not to be for Jesus, even though he had departed in a boat.  The crowds were relentless, and like the paparazzi following star athletes and Hollywood celebrities, they tracked him down.

Read in the light of the news concerning John’s death, Jesus’ reaction to the multitudes is, in a word, extraordinary.  For “when he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.” (14:14)  It is unreservedly paradoxical that Jesus—who probably longed for some compassion himself after learning of John’s death—is the one who provides it for the desperate crowd in a “deserted place.”

As the day wears on and evening comes, the disciples come to Jesus and said the crowd was hungry; he should send them into the neighboring “villages and buy food for themselves.”  What follows is the famous story of the loaves and fishes, or the feeding of the “five thousand men, besides women and children.” 

Now you probably think that is what I am going to preach on this morning.  It is such a big part of today’s lesson.  And I will touch on it in a while.  But my focus today is on something else.  I have always admired preachers who pick one verse out of a story and fashion an entire sermon around it, almost to the exclusion of the rest of the story.  And do you know what my eyes kept coming back to when I read this lesson?  “…he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.”

So many of Jesus’ encounters with people in the Gospels are built around that one attribute:  compassion.  The Samaritan woman at the well.  The woman needing healing who touched the hem of his robe in the crowd.  His weeping in front of Mary and Martha at the death of their brother and his friend Lazarus.  His invitation to all who are weary and heavy laden to come unto him.  His promise of eternal life to the repentant robber hanging on the cross next to him.  While some prefer the image of the angry Jesus who tossed aside the moneychangers’ tables in the temple, or the lawyer-like Jesus who could stare down and debate the best of the Sadducees and Pharisees, I prefer the compassionate Jesus, who loved people and attempted to meet their needs and, thus, make their lives better.

Webster’s Dictionary defines compassion as “sympathetic consciousness of others’ distress together with a desire to alleviate it.”  So the act of compassion first calls for recognition on our part of someone suffering, and then a reaching out to somehow relieve them of their burden, or at least know we stand alongside them in their suffering.

There is an outgoing fellow at the gym where I work out.  “Michael” strikes up conversations with people and remembers their names.  I hear him calling out, “Joe, how are you?” as Joe walks by, or, “See you tomorrow, Dave,” as Dave leaves.  Once he found out I was a minister, he always asks me on Mondays, “Charles, how did your Sunday go?”

Perhaps because I am a minister, and Michael is active in a church, one day when we were on machines next to each other he told me what a tough time he was having.  He and his wife were in the process of getting a divorce.  She was having an affair with a married man.  When her college-age daughter confronted her and told her she needed to stop, she kicked her daughter out.

Over the course of this year, I’ve asked Michael from time-to-time how things are going with the house sale, his daughter graduating from college, etc.  He told me his now ex-wife refused to come to their daughter’s college graduation.  I have no solutions to offer Michael, just a listening ear.  I don’t believe he’s telling the other folks in the gym these details, but he tells me.  I hope I’m offering an act of compassion to Michael in the midst of the painful events in his life.

Now this is not to laud myself, or to suggest you say on the way home, “Boy, that Charlie is certainly one caring, compassionate minister!”  I’m just trying to give opportunities for Michael to unload what he’s carrying, when he wants and needs to do it.  That is the same kind of thing many people do when they ask to talk in my office.

Recently I had a conversation with one of our church members about the birth of her son.  Everything went well with the pregnancy and the delivery.  But soon after his birth, he was not breathing correctly and had to be transferred to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at Memorial Hospital.  His mother wasn’t even released yet from the other hospital, so you can imagine the separation anxiety she already felt after only kissing her newborn after delivery.  He ended up at Memorial for a week and a half and his mother, once released, kept vigil at his incubator. 

The good news is that he is now a healthy two-year-old, developmentally sound, no problems.  Yet his mother remembers that terrible feeling anyone would have when you’re deeply concerned about your newborn you are not able to cradle and nurse at home.  She has offered to support, counsel, give solace to anyone going through a similar situation.  Another act of compassion.

Speaking of children, one pastor was told this by one of the busiest members and hardest workers in his church.  She said:

“‘I love my family and would do anything in the world for them,’ you often hear folk say.  But that’s not saying all that much.  After all, our family looks like us.  We parents have much of our own egos tied up in our children.  But I know parents who are able to love even beyond the boundaries of their own kith and kin.

“Pastor, we have decided to adopt the foster child that we have been keeping.  He is such a dear little thing.  The parents have given him up for adoption, and we think that we ought to do it,” she said.

And her pastor asked, “Do you really think that is wise?  You already have three children.  You are a great mother, but don’t you think there are limits?  Aren’t there limits to how much love you can give?”

“When it comes to love,” she replied, “I have not yet found the limits.  From my experience, love is a renewable resource.  The more love you give, the more love you seem to have.  That's how it’s been in my experience.”

Another act of compassion.

The story of the loaves and fishes, or the feeding of the 5,000, certainly has a historical core in the sense that there was a historical Jesus who was a compassionate person who responded to people in need.  The whole event of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection is a part of Christian faith, whereby God responds to humanity’s deepest need, here portrayed as a hungering multitude.  Over the centuries, Biblical scholars have attempted to explain the miracle in several ways.  It was a miracle, and like all miracles, it is unexplainable.  OR, what really happened was a lesson in unselfishness, as Jesus and his disciples began to share with others what little food they had, which then shamed others into sharing their food, so that there was enough for all.  OR, the story might not be based on any particular event in the life of Jesus, but as a whole represents Jesus’ compassionate nature, and portrays God’s act in Christ in meeting human need.

No matter which of those positions might make the most sense to you, Jesus, disregarding his own needs as usual, goes to work, fueled by compassion at the sight of the sick and hungry people around him.

Who do you know who needs an act of compassion demonstrated toward them?  Someone in your family … your neighborhood … among your friends …. coworkers?  What simple expression of interest and concern on your part may make a world of difference in their lives?

Remember, no matter what you might be going through yourself, “when [Jesus] went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them…”