Pentecost VI, Proper 11, Year B

Isaiah 57:14b-21
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-44

"Jesus was moved with compassion toward them."

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Christianity makes us human. A popular view is that people become Christians because they are afraid of death and they want eternal life. I am not convinced. Most people become Christians long before they face death, long before they take death very seriously. We become Christians not because we fear death, but because God enriches our lives. If our religion narrows our feelings and our thoughts, if our religion does not cause us to grow and change, if our religion reinforces prejudice and a sense of superiority, if our religion tolerates hatred and sanctimony, if it encourages apathy and isolation, then it is not authentic Christianity. Those things stunt humanity, and Christianity helps us to become more human.

In accepting his Nobel Prize for Literature in 1949, William Faulkner said, "I believe that man will not merely endure. He will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance." One of the distinguishing, essential qualities of humanity is our capacity for compassion. In the natural world, compassion does not make sense. It usually works in opposition to survival instincts. Why worry about or do something for another person, another bit of creation, when our chief focus is ourselves? If our most natural, animal instinct is self-perpetuation, self-protection, self-concern, then we realize that compassion is supernatural, a quality above nature. Compassion is a means to transcend ourselves, to rise above ourselves.

The word compassion comes from two Latin words: com meaning with or together; and patior meaning to suffer. We get to suffer with, or to suffer together. But compassion is not mere pity or sympathy. It is not only the ability to understand or even to share another's sorrow; it is the ability to sorrow for another's suffering and have the desire, the urge, to help relieve that suffering. It is not only feeling, but doing something about that feeling.

One of the themes of Milan Kundera's novel The Unbearable Lightness of Being is the sense of weightlessness, of lightness, which we have when life is meaningless. In the novel, Kundera writes: "There is nothing heavier than compassion. Not even one's own pain weighs so heavy as the pain one feels with someone, for someone, a pain intensified by the imagination and prolonged by a hundred echoes." Kundera observes that compassion gives our lives purpose and meaning; it gives our life heft, substance, grounding. Unless we can feel for another person and want to help another person, why get up in the morning?

Christ wants us to feel compassion for other people, and not only people we know, but all people, and even all of creation. A 7th century monk, Isaac of Nineveh, wrote:

An elder was once asked, "What is a compassionate heart?" He replied, "It is a heart on fire for the whole of creation, for humanity, for the birds, for the animals, for demons, and for all that exists. At the recollection and the sight of them such a person's eyes overflow with tears owing to the vehemence of the compassion which grips the heart. . . This is why he continually offers up prayer full of tears, even for the irrational animals and for the enemies of truth. . . He even prays for the reptiles as a result of the great compassion, which is poured out beyond measure, after the likeness of God, in his heart.

Christ's compassion is universal, all encompassing, without limits. Christian compassion extends to our enemies as well as to our friends, to the evil as well as to the good. For God makes his sun to shine on the evil as well as upon the good, and sends his rain upon the unjust as well as the just.

In today's gospel, the crowd of people represent this mixture of the good and evil, just and unjust. The primary characteristic of Jesus' relationship to the crowd is compassion; he loves and cares for every individual in the crowd. As today's story opens, Jesus is exhausted and wants some leisure. He has tried to escape the crowds by going out into the desert with the apostles. We all know that feeling, the craving to be alone with a few close friends, to let your guard down and relax and be refreshed. But the crowds don't let him escape, and instead of being annoyed by them, as we would be, Jesus feels compassion for them. He allows their need to take precedence over his need.

Our Lord's compassion for the crowds reveals that he is the true shepherd. His loving attitude toward the flock shows his divine authority, that he is the genuine shepherd that Israel has long anticipated. In his day, the prophet Ezekiel had attacked Israel's leaders. Ezekiel wrote:

Shepherds of Israel who have been feeding yourselves, should not shepherds feed the sheep? You eat the fat, you clothe yourselves with the wool, you slaughter the choice animals, but you do not take care of the flock. You have not strengthened the weak or healed the sick or bound up the injured. You have not brought back the strays or searched for the lost. You have ruled them harshly and brutally. So they were scattered because there was no shepherd, and when they were scattered they became food for all the wild animals. (Ezk 34:2-5)

Jesus' whole ministry is about reaching out to the lost and marginalized, healing the sick, encouraging the weak, helping those in need. In today's gospel, Jesus sees the need and the spiritual hunger of the crowd, and he responds to the people by teaching them and by feeding them. As on several occasions, our Lord's compassion for people leads to a miracle, a miracle which shows us what the Kingdom of God is like, a place where all are cared for and are satisfied.

The disciples came to Jesus with a problem: how are we to feed these people? They thought that Jesus was in a bind, that the problem – the hunger of the people – was beyond his capacity to solve. It should make us reflect on how we deal with problems that seem insurmountable. How do we deal with them? We do not need to run away in despair. When it seems we can't make a difference, when the problem is too big, when the stress makes us feel like exploding, we need to remember that our Lord can give us strength. As in so many of the gospel stories, we are the crowd. We are spiritually hungry and need sustenance. Christ has compassion upon us and feeds us.

Christians know his compassion, and we need to let it work in us and in the Church so that like Jesus we are moved by the needs of others. We have to be outward looking, seeking and helping the communities surrounding us, being part of the life of the community. Jesus' example shows us that compassion is an essential aspect of evangelism. Compassion is the purest motivation for evangelism. We're not trying to add to a club. We're trying to let people know that there's reason for hope, that there's the possibility of joy, that God loves them. That's an act of compassion. Building up the Church is an act of compassion.

So compassion is what motivates us to welcome people here. Compassion should characterize the way we treat newcomers and one another. All of us have sorrows and suffering and shame and weakness, and so we, like Jesus feeding the crowds, care for another. Compassion is what motivates us to invite people to church. We say, "Come and see. Give us a try. See if it's for you. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. What you'll find here will feed your soul." Compassion is what motivates us to tell people our stories, to let others know that Christ has changed our lives, and that's not a source of embarrassment for us, but a source of hope for other people. Compassion is what motivates us to tell people why God matters, why this parish is special to us. We should know that our stories are interesting and compelling because they are authentic. People are hungry to hear. If we have the compassion of Christ, we'll tell it.

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.