Proper 11B, 21 July 2024. The Very Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

• 2 Samuel 7:1-14a. I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day.
• Ephesians 2:11-22.  He came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.
• Mark 6:30-34, 53-56. You give them something to eat.

O God of compassion, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

I hope you noticed that our Gospel portion for this morning is missing quite a few verses – nineteen to be exact, and then it acts like nothing happened. These verses, in my view, are essential to the story and I’m chagrined that they never get read in church – not next week or any week. They are the Gospel of Mark’s particular version of Jesus telling the weary twelve, who were anticipating a needed rest, to use the five loaves and two fish that they had between them to feed to a crowd of 5,000. After dinner they got back in the boat without Jesus, who went up the mountain to pray. Then early the next morning, straining against an adverse wind, they saw Jesus walking on the water. Jesus intended to pass them by, Mark writes, but he saw their terror and told them not to be afraid. Then he got in the boat with them and the wind ceased. They were astounded, indeed they did not understand about the loaves, for their hearts were hardened. In other words, Jesus has just walked on water and calmed a storm and the disciples are still grumbling about the loaves.

It seems theologically dishonest to me to remove these verses from the middle of this reading, because they contain critical evidence of the disciples’ struggle, their failure to understand, their exhaustion, their fear, and their hardness of heart. If we don’t hear those stories, then when any of us experiences struggle with our fidelity to Jesus’ teachings, or failure to understand, or fear, or exhaustion, or hardness of heart, it can seem like a reason to back away from Christian practice rather than accept something that’s perfectly normal for Jesus’ allies to experience. 

Our passage for today begins with the twelve who had been sent out (which is what apostle literally means) returning and gathering around Jesus to tell him all they had done and taught. He saw their exhaustion and said to them, “come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” That always sounds so nice to me when I get this close to my annual vacation! But no sooner did Jesus and his friends embark on their much-needed retreat than the crowds saw where they were headed and beat them there on foot. When there’s scant wind on the Sea of Galilee, that is surely possible. The “Sea” of Galilee is actually a small lake, and it’s easy to see across and walk around to the other side, especially at the north end where these stories take place. It’s a scene that I often think of when stuck in Boston traffic and I say, we could get there faster by walking.

So the crowd that Jesus’ friends were trying to sail away from met the boat. Jesus had compassion for them because they were like sheep without a shepherd, and he began to teach them many things. (Alas, not one of those many things is listed.) What do you think he said to those lost sheep that made them lose track of time and stay well past suppertime? I went back through the first five chapters of Mark to look for hints – they’re obscure. Jesus was proclaiming the good news that the Holy One reigns supreme and Jesus was calling people to turn around toward, (rather than away from) a spirit of holiness. He was teaching people to recognize and pay attention to God (Who is Love) and respond appropriately. [1] Jesus was teaching people to respond by claiming and insisting on their own dignity. Jesus was teaching people many things about responding to God by honoring the dignity of others. I would lose track of time listening to someone teach me about my own dignity and the dignity of others. I would. And the people did. But the twelve were tapping their feet, still hoping for a rest. That’s the part where disappointment, anger and desperation come in for Jesus’ closest friends.

Jesus was trying at every turn to teach the twelve and anyone else who would listen about the many and deep ways that they could participate in his authority, in his compassion, and in the abundance that results from compassionate authority. [2] He was doing what he could to calm the storm around and within them, but their hearts were hardened. I feel for them. I also rejoice that somewhere along the way, their hearts softened up, because between the year 30 or so (when the apostles met Jesus) and the year 70 (when this story got written down), they and others figured out how to communicate the message of the Love of God that Jesus had taught them. Somewhere along the way, they figured out about what J.R. Briggs has called “the wild grace of Jesus, despite …[their] mighty falls, tragic events, slow leaks and burn-out.” [3] They figured out about the grace that keeps affirming God’s abundant, more-than-enough blessing. Somewhere along the way, they figured out how to tell the story remembering how hard their hearts had been, the way any of us might look back at a time in our lives when we just didn’t recognize the grace of God that was right in front of us all along. Can you remember back when grace made a very rough place smoother for you even though you didn’t know that was happening at the time?

They got out of the boat at Gennesaret, which is not Bethsaida, where they were heading. They were probably right back where they’d started from the day before. Back to square one. No more mention of a retreat or a rest, time alone with Jesus. The crowds again rushed to meet the boat and began to bring sick people on mats to wherever they heard Jesus was. And wherever he went, they begged that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed. What do you think it means to touch the fringe of his cloak? Why is this lesson edifying for an audience more than a generation removed from the time of Jesus? I ask because I wonder why it might be edifying for us. 

Starting with something really basic, the fact that Jesus had fringe on his cloak meant that he was observing a requirement of the Torah, which commands that threads hang from the four corners of a cloak as a reminder that you belong to God. [4] The proper response to this reminder is to behave well, to be holy for your God. Remember the commandments of the LORD and do them. Joseph Telushkin, author of Jewish Literacy, calls the fringe or the tzitziyot an “ethical string-around-the-finger.” It’s a piece of a uniform that reminds the wearer (and anyone else who sees) of allegiance to the Holy One. I was working on this sermon when I flew to Baltimore on Thursday when the tzitzit of a rabbi brushed my arm as he walked up the aisle where I was seated. It gave me goosebumps. I thought, there is a man of prayer.

Here’s what I think about the metaphor of fringe. It reminds us that we don’t need to get our heads wrapped around the idea of Jesus, or wrap our arms around him and hold on tight. Just a glancing brush of the fringe – the slightest touch can be enough to heal, to reassure, to reconcile, to remember our dignity and the dignity of others if we are paying attention to Love (capital L) and responding accordingly, if we are recognizing Love and responding appropriately to expand the definition of family; to expand the mission field; to expand the access to the feast; to remember our own dignity and the dignity of others; to have compassion for the crowds. Hear this good news: when your heart is hardened and you don’t understand or you fail in tests of trust in Love or creativity or generosity, just join the crowd and share in the abundance of Jesus’ trust in Love! Come to the Table anyway! The Gospels testify that Jesus, the living Christ has compassion, sees our terror and is faithful. Jesus is observant and faithful even when we are not.

The late Walter Wink wrote: “When I study the Bible, alone or with others, my ultimate aim is not information, but transformation. I see no reason to trouble myself or others with Scripture unless in doing so we intend to approach as closely as we dare to the numinous majesty of the living God. Why open this explosive and shattering book unless we are willing, not just to be added to, but subtracted from? Shall I read Scripture merely to be confirmed in my own good opinions of myself and my world, or do I let its first word to me be a negation of every prop, every presumption, every prejudice that armors me against acknowledging my pitiable hunger, even starvation, for the truth I need in order to be whole? In short, why come to such a book seeking simply the answers to the questions that I pose, without at the same time letting these texts call in question not only my questions but my very existence?”

Our Gospel story, without including the feeding and storm scenes, doesn’t demand as much from me as the whole narrative does when the missing verses are added back in. Without the missing verses, I can be grateful for the reminder to rest. I can marvel at Jesus’ great compassion and great patience with crowds. I can wonder about how people who touched the fringe of his garment might have felt instantly healed, but it doesn’t seem to have much to do with me. It feels like a story of long ago and far away. But the feeding story with Jesus’ command to the disciples, “you give them something to eat,” the Eucharistic language, and then the evocative scene of the disciples straining at the oars against an adverse wind engage me at a deeper level. It doesn’t feel like long ago and far away. It feels more like this past week.

In her column this past Thursday for The Progressive Network, entitled “What Could Go Right?” Emma Varvaloucas reminded her readers that “these times don’t call for tuning out. They call for us to reach inside ourselves and find our grit, resilience, and strength…They call for us to think deeply and seriously about how we might each contribute well to this moment and the moments to come.” In our lexicon, another word for thinking deeply and seriously is prayer, which will help us remember that whether we live or die, we belong to Love. We are Love’s possession. In the midst of so much turmoil in our world, it’s reasonable to feel exhausted and overwhelmed. And yet, we have a moral obligation to maintain common decency in our interactions – on the road, on social media, at work and at home, modeling kindness and love especially across differences. If you’re stymied by conflict, focus on, clarify for yourself and others that you belong to Love, and communicate this with your words and actions. By all means, take breaks to rest. It’s not just a good idea – it’s the law. And then get back out there.

1. J.R. Briggs, Fail: Finding Hope and Grace in the Midst of Ministry Failure, (Downers Grove IL: IVP Books, 2014), p. 62.
2.  Bible Workbench issue 22.4, July 19, 2015 quotes Herman Waetjen’s A Reordering of Power: A Socio-Political Reading of Mark’s Gospel.
3. J. R. Briggs, Fail, p. 52.
4. Numbers 15:37-40.