The apostles gathered together with Jesus and reported all they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat. So they went off in the boat by themselves to a deserted place. People saw them leaving and many came to know about it. They hastened there on foot from all the towns and arrived at the place before them. When he disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. (Mark 6.30-34)
There are several directions we could take with the passage from Mark’s gospel that we have on this Sixteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, all of them good. But I think we’ll look at the verse that reads, “People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat.” Although it is tucked into the larger context of Jesus and his disciples going to a deserted place where they could rest for a while, it carries an important point.
Over the years, one of the most consistent concerns I have heard from practicing Christians who took their discipleship seriously centered on the fact that it was so continuous. The observation, one generally seasoned lightly but sometimes more heavily with a measure of complaint, recognized that there were no coffee breaks for the bona fide Christian.
Instead, if one was faithful in service to the way of Jesus, it meant 24/7 work, always on call to respond to a need, to answer the plea for assistance. There simply was no escape, regardless of the hours already put in, the assistance doled out, or miles walked. In other words, they bemoaned the fact that being a disciple was day in and day out.
The typical questions that plagued these genuinely good people were several, such as “When is enough enough?” Or, “Haven’t I done my duty?” Or, more often, “How can I take care of myself if I’m always taking care of others?” All serious questions, all valid questions. And, truth be told, the answer is found in the passage we look at today.
If we’ve forgotten the bigger picture that was given to us last week, Jesus sent the twelve out two by two to teach and to heal. It was their inaugural missionary journey. The passage today tells of their return from that trip with Mark stating that “the apostles gathered together with Jesus and reported all they had done and taught.”
So, in effect, they are just now returning and are worn out, as any of us would be after making a long trip for work, the point confirmed in Jesus saying to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” His response is the expected one, given the circumstances, and one we also expect after being away for a while. We want to catch a breath, have some down time to recharge the batteries and to put the work behind us.
However, as we see soon enough in this brief passage, a day off isn’t allowed to the disciples. As soon as Jesus and the twelve get on a boat to head to a spot away from the crowds, the people see them leaving and figure out where they are going, and so make for that place. In fact, Mark tells us that “they hastened there on foot from all the towns and arrived at the place before them.”
So, when Jesus and the twelve disembark, they aren’t finding the quiet and peaceful place that they thought would be awaiting them, but instead a mob of people that Mark describes as a vast crowd, a far cry from the relaxation at the pool that they may have anticipated. Here, it is critically important that we take notice of Jesus’ response to the crowd. We’re told that “his heart was moved with compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.”
That response is important because it tells us how we also are to respond when we’re faced with another call for help, another plea for a handout, still another request for a second helping. Instead of being disgruntled and disconcerted because the line of people in front of us seems endless, we are called to show pity or, better translated, “merciful love.”
How often? Again and again. When does it end? When the line ends. Do we get a break? Probably not, at least not a long one. Faithful discipleship, then, is a continuous occupation, not something we move in and out of like a change of clothes. In other words, we are never “not a Christian,” but always living the life in imitation of the Lord Jesus who showed compassion to the crowds.
Of course, this is the rub and this is where most people jump ship. It demands too much of us and runs counter to our own self-centered tendencies where we put ourselves first and put others out of sight. Hence, the Sunday morning Christian who sits in the church pew, a smile on his or her face, gracious to fellow worshippers, and respectful of the preacher’s words.
Unfortunately, for too many Sunday churchgoers, their attentiveness to the ways of Jesus ends in the street, if not on the front steps of the church. Without second thought, they revert back to their ordinary ways, disliking the same people, belittling the person who rubs them the wrong way, and refusing to let another car get ahead of them on the way out of the parking lot. In other words, at the same time that they take off their coat and tie to put them in the back seat of the car, they take off any trace of compassion for others.
Apparently, more than a few people can live with the contradiction between their Sunday morning selves and their Monday morning personas, never exploring the dichotomy, never asking the tough questions of themselves, content to split church and office by an even greater distance than the miles between the two buildings.
If we think Jesus is going to give the twelve a pass just because they have returned from a long road trip, we would be wrong. Immediately following these verses, we find the crowd hungry and without food, the disciples approaching Jesus with the complaint, “This is a deserted place and it is already very late. Dismiss them so that they can go to the surrounding farms and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”
And how does Jesus respond to this common sensible suggestion from the disciples, particularly given their tiredness and their want to be rid of the crowd? He says, “Give them some food yourselves.” Doubtlessly, their eyes popped out of their heads and Peter, always one to voice an opinion, probably uttered a few swear words.
Obviously, Mark intends the passage of the disciples’ return and the feeding of the crowd to be conjoined. He writes the two events as one, in this way making the point clear that Jesus is not going to give the disciples a day off. A need has presented itself and he tells the disciples to respond to it, however late the hour, however tired they may be, or however helpless they may feel.
There’s a great story told about Pope Saint John XXIII, elected to the papacy at the age of 76, the oldest person put in that position in over two-hundred years. Asked by reporters some time later if he didn’t get tired and wanted to rest, given the demands of the job, John answered with his typical humor and his ever-present smile, simply saying, “There will be plenty of time for rest in eternity.”
His response may be a good guide for Christians everywhere, especially those who are committed fully to following the ways of Jesus and who want to imitate his merciful love for the crowds. It can serve as a reminder that Jesus did not rest from work, but, when faced with the crowd in front of him, “began to teach them many things,” feeding their spirits, and then multiplied the loaves and the fish, feeding their bodies in this way.
Now, let me be clear. No one is saying that extending “merciful love” is easy. If it were easy, everyone would be doing it. But one look at the world we live in and we know merciful love is a rarity in these times and in most places. Quite the opposite for the most part, which is why truly good people stand out in a crowd of otherwise lukewarm Christians.
I’ve always liked the spunky attitude of a woman who volunteered a lot of time in a busy soup kitchen where the homeless and the destitute came for a hot meal. There were long lines every day, often trailing down the sidewalk in front of the shelter, the need for food always present, the desperation always evident in the eyes of the hungry.
Asked how she managed to offer a smile to each person who walked into the place in search of a warm meal, she said, “That’s easy. I just say to myself, ‘Oh, would you look at that? There’s Jesus coming through the door again.’” That attitude worked for her and it can work for us as well, instilling in us that merciful love that is sine qua non or the essential condition for the Christian believer.
Of course, Mother Teresa who exemplified that merciful love in an incomparable way and to an impossible degree was once asked how much a Christian was expected to give. As always, her answer was short and right to the point. She replied, “Give till it hurts.” Again, she hit the nail on the head, succinctly answering the question we all ask, or at least those of us who take seriously the call to follow the way of Jesus “How much do we have to give.”
The problem, obviously, is that a good many Christians are content to carry lightly the demands of discipleship and so clock out much earlier, long before the pain of giving of ourselves begins to call for an aleve tablet or two, ignoring the pain that Jesus experienced on the cross, showing us what it truly means to give until it hurts.
So, the passage today is a good opportunity for us to reevaluate our commitment to the merciful love that is essential to Christian discipleship, giving us occasion to reexamine the many coffee breaks that we give ourselves during the day, those times when we shuck off our Christian practice, choosing to take an extended breather, failing to understand that being a Christian does not have an on and off switch. Instead, discipleship is like a faucet that is always open, pouring merciful love into the world, quenching the thirst of the thirsty.
–Jeremy Myers
Sunday Brunch 