Mathew 14:13-21

Proper 13 / Year A

There are 5,000 spiritually nourished souls with empty bellies and the disciples are aware of three things:

· They are in a deserted place.

· The hour is late.

· The only resources at their disposal can be carried in a single grocery bag.

Beyond Mission Impossible, this is Situation Hopeless.

“Lord,” they say to Jesus, “this is a deserted place.”  Some bibles opt for the translation a desolate place, which is an evocative word implying more than uninhabited.  It conveys a sense of bleakness, even wretchedness, devoid of warmth, comfort, and joy.  It comes from a Latan root meaning “all alone” as in forsaken or isolated. 

And desolate describes more than a location.  It is descriptive of a condition, a mindset.  Think of the times you have sized up a challenge, taken stock of what you have, and felt overwhelmed.  You know what it is like to feel desolate.  And you know how these moments create, among other things, a feeling of isolation… of being all alone.  So, the first challenge is the location and the mood. 

The second is time.  “Lord,” the disciples note, “the hour is late.”  It is not only late, in their minds it is too late: “Maybe earlier we could have done something about this, but not now.  There was a time when we had more people, more resources, more of everything, but not anymore.  Maybe when we were younger we could have taken this on.  The sun has set on us.  The hour has passed.  Let’s call it a day.  Time to wave the white flag and admit our better days are behind us.  After all, our ‘beloved’ rector is retiring at the end of the month.”  Well, they didn’t say that last part, but its late… really late.

Finally, the disciples say to Jesus, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”  We have nothing but…  They make a perfectly understandable assessment: our meager resources are inconsequential given the enormity of the need.  I give the disciples this much credit – at least they recognize what they have and can name it.  Most often, most of us in a situation like this, dismiss what do we have because, since we see no way it can bring relief to moment, we become blind to its potential, to our potential, to the potential of what God can do in and through us.

Here is one thing the disciples recognize they do have… they have Jesus.  They go to him, explain the situation, present him with a possible solution – send the crowds away to fend for themselves – and then follow his instructions.

And what does Jesus do?  He amasses what is at hand… some bread, some loaves.  We bring with us today canned food, paper towels, school supplies, a few dollars to put in the plate, our singing voices, a warm smile…  If you pause and think about, there is a lot more here than meets the eye, isn’t there.  And then Jesus gives thanks.  He is grateful for what has been offered and trusts somehow, through the grace of God, it will be more than enough.  And with just this, desolation gives way to abundance. 

This seems to be how God works.  Little things go a long way.  Small things can make a huge difference.  Every person here and all of us collectively have more than we need to turn desolation into abundance if we offer it to God, if we open ourselves to what God can do through us.  It really is beyond our imagining.  A little generosity and a lot of thanks and people who are willing to lend their talent came make a huge difference. 

For me, this is one of the most exciting aspects of parish ministry.  It is incredibly rewarding to see a group of people take minimal resources and, rather than complain about what they do not have, do something amazing with what they do have.  This kind of spirit is infectious, and it fuels the mission of God’s people.

Have any of you watched the Netflix mini-series on the 1988 bombing of Pan Am Flight 103.  It chronicles the horrific terrorist act which took the lives of all 259 people on board as well as 11 residents of Lockerbie, Scotland, where the main wreckage crashed while fiery debris rained down from the sky.  The explosion created a crime scene of over 850 square miles and the devastation was unfathomable.

A yet the residents of Lockerbie rallied to do what they could.  They stood watch over fallen bodies until authorities arrived on the scene.  They set up and staffed canteens which offered free food around the clock to the enormous number of responders.  They opened their homes to next of kin who traveled from foreign countries to identify their lost loved ones.

I was particularly moved by the example of a small group of Lockerbie church women.  They learned recovered personal artifacts determined to have no forensic value were being set aside in a massive warehouse with no plan for what to do with it.  So, the women took it upon themselves to sort through all that material to see what they could identify and return to grieving families, knowing it would provide a small measure of comfort.  Their human goodness and Scottish grit, like the loaves and fishes, never flagged.  They were able to retrieve, identify, and return whole bags of luggage, unopened Christmas presents, a college student’s hand-written journal, and an untold number of other personal items; including in each shipment a small bouquet of Scottish heather – “something from the ground”, they said.  In the face of such desolation, the residents of Lockerbie found a way to bring abundance by being gracious and compassionate. 

We all pray we never face a situation like that, but we can tap into the same hope as they did, offer what little we have to confront the desolation around us, seek the same divine power, and watch how God uses who we are and what we have to create an abundance of grace and goodness in the midst of hunger and desolation.