Together, the Impossible Is Possible: Mark 6:32-44

 Third Sunday in Lent

Sanctified Art series "Tell Me Something Good"

32 They departed in a boat by themselves for a deserted place.

33 Many people saw them leaving and recognized them, so they ran ahead from all the cities and arrived before them. 34 When Jesus arrived and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd. Then he began to teach them many things.

35 Late in the day, his disciples came to him and said, “This is an isolated place, and it’s already late in the day. 36 Send them away so that they can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy something to eat for themselves.”

37 He replied, “You give them something to eat.”

But they said to him, “Should we go off and buy bread worth almost eight months’ pay and give it to them to eat?”

38 He said to them, “How much bread do you have? Take a look.”

After checking, they said, “Five loaves of bread and two fish.”

39 He directed the disciples to seat all the people in groups as though they were having a banquet on the green grass. 40 They sat down in groups of hundreds and fifties. 41 He took the five loaves and the two fish, looked up to heaven, blessed them, broke the loaves into pieces, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. 42 Everyone ate until they were full. 43 They filled twelve baskets with the leftover pieces of bread and fish. 44 About five thousand had eaten. (CEB)

Secondary text: Ephesians 3:20–21

20 Glory to God, who is able to do far beyond all that we could ask or imagine by his power at work within us; 21 glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus for all generations, forever and always. Amen. (CEB)

 

          I am not a cook.  I do not want more cookbooks or well-meaning reassurances that if I tried, I would get better at it.  I am not a bad cook but a disinterested one.  I find cooking tedious and time-consuming.

          Because I am not a cook, and for at least four other reasons, I spend Thanksgiving with the J* family.  This began when I was in graduate school, when my distaste for cooking was even more ferocious than it is now and Nan adopted me as the slightly pathetic creature I was.  It has continued such that, come the beginning of November, I no longer get an “are you coming” text but a “when will you get here” one.  Because they love me, Nan requests that I bring things like bread from Zingerman’s, so that I do not have to cook.  I am delighted by this.

          I am also amazed, every year, at the precision.  J* Thanksgiving can involve easily 25 people or more flowing in and out of the meal and Nan and Dan have precise calibrations down to a science.  The kitchen floor is cleaned at a specific time, the brussels sprouts and mashed potatoes are prepared largely the day before, the turkey goes into the oven at a time honed by years of experience, and the appetizer table is a careful pattern of cheese, pickles, drinks, and crackers so as to maximize the ability to eat too much before we eat too much.  It is a masterpiece of planning, and I am quite glad to move chairs rather than cook because feeding a hockey team + is something that should be a resume skill.

          So it boggles my mind to consider today’s miraculous setting of feeding 5,000; probably more, since women and children often weren’t counted.  I think the miracle is less that the loaves and fish stretched and more that 13 30-somethings organized that many people for all to be able to eat.

          It matters to put this meal into context, though—it always matters to put Scripture into context, since Scripture will say anything you please if you dice it up small enough.  We find ourselves about a third of the way through the gospel of Mark—Mark, the chronologically first gospel, who has a penchant for fast, brief, and to the point.  Mark, who uses “immediately” or “suddenly” more than 40 times in his 16 chapters.[1]  Mark, who always wants us to know that Jesus was up to something.

          Today, Mark begins, “They departed in a boat by themselves for a deserted place.”

          Two things happened to make Jesus and the disciples want to take a prolonged vacation cruise: one, the disciples had just gone on their first evangelical tour to spread the word and to heal the people, and two, John the Baptist was just beheaded by Herod.  Author Debie Thomas describes it as “the return of the disciples from their first ministry tour—their inauguration into apostleship.  Exhilarated and exhausted, they have stories to tell Jesus—thrilling stories… [and] stories of failure and rejection.

“…Jesus senses that the disciples need a break.  They're tired, overstimulated, underfed, and in significant need of solitude.

“Jesus, meanwhile, is not in top form himself.  He has just lost John the Baptist, his beloved cousin and prophet, the one who baptized him and spent a lifetime in the wilderness preparing his way.  Worse, Jesus has lost him to murder, a terrifying reminder that God's beloved are not immune to violent, senseless deaths.  Maybe Jesus' own end feels closer.”[2]

They need rest, this weary and heartsore troupe of friends, so off they go—and their plans are foiled.  People recognized them, followed them—we might, perhaps, say stalked them, a bit—and were awaiting them when they arrived at this no-longer-deserted-place.  Jesus has now become a Kpop idol.

Whenever I read this passage, I get stuck here.  I’m an introvert, and the idea that people want even more out of Jesus when He’s already giving so much and is exhausted on at least three different levels makes me furious on his behalf.  Don’t these people have boundaries?  Don’t they recognize that He’s a person?  Leave Him alone!  He needs a nap!  For several days!

The gospels, in their infinite patience of being written texts, have zero qualms reminding me how much I am not Jesus.  I don’t know if you encounter this problem as well, church, but any time I read more than about four verses of the gospels, I find myself humbled by how not Jesus I am.  I am disgruntled by the crowds; Jesus “had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd.”

Be a language nerd with me for a moment.  “Compassion,” here, is a translation of the Greek ἐσπλαγχνίσθη (es-planch [k] -nis-the [thuh])—yeah, it’s not a cute word.  It’s not meant to be; somewhat more literally, it means to feel from the bowels, which is where ancient Greece considered love and pity to live.[3]  You didn’t feel for someone out of the goodness of your heart but out of the intensity of your guts.[4]  The English word we have, compassion, is itself an Anglicization of the Latin compassio, literally “I suffer with.”

Jesus, in mourning and still digesting all the stories of His followers and friends, overwhelmed and tired and really hoping for a day off, looks at the crowd of desperate, broken people, and feels a visceral sense of connection, a body-borne recognition that ignoring them would hurt everyone involved.

So He teaches them, a marathon session that takes them to late in the day where everyone is hungry and there isn’t even a McDonald’s within convenient distance.  It’s the disciples who first interject, the disciples who probably are also pretty hungry and tired and didn’t get their day off, and aware that a tired and hungry crowd of thousands can get really ugly really fast.  They’re practical about it—and as much love as I have for Pastor Jess, I’m going to have to refute some of her sermon from last week.  Here, the disciples are very much concerned with efficiency and detail; “Send them away,” they say to Jesus, “so that [the crowd] can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy something to eat for themselves.”

And Jesus replies, “You give them something to eat.”

I think again of how many moving pieces and how much cooking are involved in the Janecke Thanksgiving for maybe 30 people; I think of the disciples looking at a group of people nearly one and a half times the size of Western Michigan’s entire graduate student population;[5] I think of the Ancient Near Eastern culture of hospitality that grounds in the idea from birth that sending a person away hungry from one’s dwelling or temporary table was an insult in the highest degree.

I am so very sympathetic to how much the disciples freak out.

“Should we go off and buy bread worth almost eight months’ pay and give it to them to eat?” they ask incredulously.  None of them have eight months’ pay to spare; most of them gave up their jobs to travel with Jesus.  All of them just got back from their evangelical tours in which Jesus had explicitly told them not to bring any money at all.  There is no bread to be had, Jesus; there is no money to be had, Jesus; have You gotten too tired to think straight, Jesus?  This is why You need a vacation, Jesus!

Jesus “said to them, ‘How much bread do you have? Take a look.’

“After checking, they said, ‘Five loaves of bread and two fish.’

“…[Jesus] took the five loaves and the two fish, looked up to heaven, blessed them, broke the loaves into pieces, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. Everyone ate until they were full.”

Everyone ate until they were full.  Not only that, but “[t]hey filled twelve baskets with the leftover pieces of bread and fish.”  There were leftovers!  Leftovers, in a crowd of at least 5,000!  Leftovers, from five loaves of bread and two fish!

I’ve come across the notion before that perhaps it wasn’t just five loaves and two fish; perhaps there were people who had known they were going to a deserted place and packed lunch and, seeing Jesus’ example, felt a desire to share their own food.  Perhaps it was 3,000 separate picnics becoming a full banquet, with five loaves and two fish and fourteen dates and eight jars of olives and twenty crocks of chickpea soup and seven containers of lentil stew and thirty handfuls of figs and maybe, if one of the rich men who were curious about this Jesus guy was hanging out at the edge of the crowd, even some smoked lamb.

The miracle then becomes less about making loaves and fish stretch and more about making people talk to each other and share.  I know we all learn to share in kindergarten but I don’t need to look further than the morning news to know that not everybody let that lesson sink into their bones.  The miracle becomes compassion, feeling from the guts that they’re all out in this deserted place together, that they’re all hungry, that pooling resources will help more than hoarding them.  The miracle becomes that together, the impossible becomes possible because we never sit to the banquet alone.

This is how Thanksgiving works: I bring bread (so I don’t have to cook), and Dan cleans the floor and Gail brings a dish and whoever’s around helps cut vegetables and Q brings drinks and Melissa arranges the cheeses (and eats a lot of them, let’s be honest with ourselves) and Rob brings in the dishes from the Midwestern freezer and Adam sets the table and someone and someone and someone.  “You feed them” does not mean “hey, individual, fix this problem” but “hey, group of people who is learning what the Kingdom of God means, open the doors even wider.”  It’s “many hands make light work” but without being trite, because they really do and we really can’t solve anything at all on our own.

Two days ago, multiple tornadoes ripped through south central Michigan, killing four and injuring dozens more.  Houses and businesses were leveled and it will take several days before the scope is fully measured.[6]  Coldwater UMC, some twenty minutes from the badly-hit Union City, has opened its doors to offer a place to charge phones and computers, access WiFi, and have safe space to breathe and make plans for whatever is next.[7]

When ICE’s cruelty escalated to thuggish lawlessness, the restaurant in Ann Arbor called Detroit Street Filling Station wrote up a packet on what people can do and partnered with Buenos Vecinos to donate part of every Monday’s business proceeds; this was in addition to its work started last year as a hub for food donation for those who had lost access to food stamps under the new laws.  One of the subject lines of their emails was, “Eat vegan food. Fight fascism.”

When Jesus looked at the crowd, He had compassion; he had a gut-wrenching awareness that even when He was tired, when He was grieving, He could not turn away from them.  Please do not hear that you have to work yourself into the ground and never take time away; boundaries, Church, boundaries matter.  But please also hear that the miracle wasn’t really about how many people or fish there were.  The miracle was Jesus saying this is the Kingdom of God:  that we gather together and care for each other, have compassion for each other; that all who hunger are fed, that there is enough when we share what we’ve been given, that scarcity and fear have no place here.  This is the good news: that we have collectively what is needed, that Jesus invites us to be more together than we can ever be separately, that eight months’ pay is a paltry sum against the priceless connection we build.  This is the good news: that many hands do, in fact, make light work, that the grace of the Kingdom will never run out, that we are not asked to feed the multitudes alone.  This is the good news: that Jesus teaches compassion by example, that we are invited to be in relationship with skin in the game, that God is “able to do far beyond all that we could ask or imagine by his power at work within us”.

So, church, how are you feeding others?  How are you letting yourself be fed?  Do you trust that there will be leftovers at God’s table?  I call the dark meat; after all, I’d hate to have to cook.

May we trust in our good Shepherd; may we grow in our compassion; may we hear Jesus’ invitation to abundant faith, now and always.  Amen.



[5] Western Michigan University Student Population and Demographics; 3,717 grad students in the 24–25 year

[6][6] https://www.mlive.com/weather/2026/03/deadliest-tornado-day-in-michigan-in-46-years-preliminary-data-shows.html?fbclid=IwY2xjawQZPP5leHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETE4c2JZZU45dHF0ZVFnUFRQc3J0YwZhcHBfaWQQMjIyMDM5MTc4ODIwMDg5MgABHoX-Giqzs0gN-QLapmva42U80e19JtKEi1Ex1SkCJXwlkgPuhdIEpyf7uJ6C_aem_6OwKSkiOKI7INfOAdE9i6A

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