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Compassion for Fools
Grace to you and peace from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
How is it that the multitude who came to hear Jesus found themselves so utterly unprepared for basic bodily needs? How is it that they were drawn out three days without food and were unable to return home, lest they perish on the way? Jesus was certainly aware of what was happening, and yet He did not warn them. It was not sinful pride and self-reliance that has caused this situation at all. They were caught because the One who feeds the birds of the air and fishes of the sea had purposely drawn them out. It was His words, His teaching that caused them to forget all other things. His words and His teaching were responsible for the seemingly hopeless situation.
And in this very context, as the responsible party, our Lord tells the disciples: “I have compassion on the multitude.” How is this the case? Why did He not tell them before it was too late? Even two-hundred days’ wages worth of bread would not be enough. How can such a crowd be satisfied?
God in His wisdom turns the world’s wisdom on its head. His compassion is not a sappy, bleeding heart sympathy. His compassion is a sincere and lasting love. It is real concern for the ongoing reality and eternal fate of mankind. It was this compassion that caused our Lord to place these hearers into such dire straits. He has them right where He wants them. The reality is that they would be just as helpless if they were tucked away in their beds with full bellies and full cupboards…but they might well not know it. They might think they were in control. But there in the desert, with grumbling bellies and too far to return, they know their helplessness. The hunger that gnaws at the 4,000 is the mark of death. They must eat or they will die. There is no place for them to turn. They cannot provide for themselves. They are helpless.
These words of Jesus—words that so lifted them out of this mundane existence that they forgot all other things—now seem to turn on them. Now more than ever they realize their frailty, their inability, their weakness. In contrast to the serenity of Jesus and His perfect obedience, their guilt shows forth like a beacon. And so it is that the Lord provides, as the Lord always does, and by His grace and mercy they realize it and give thanks for it.
The reality is that we are the frailest and weakest of God’s creatures. We cannot eat raw meat or draw sustenance from grass. We are the only animal on earth that requires clothing for survival. But despite all that, we are also the proudest of His creatures. While the donkey knows his master, we rebel against the goodness of God. We think ourselves wise and shrewd, good and decent, when we are nothing of the sort. We boast in our supposed “street smarts” and extra measure of “common sense.” Like the Pharisee in the Temple, we scan the room and think, “I am more than the equal of any man here. I am smarter. I am stronger. I am better, and all should honor me and see that I am of great worth. I am prepared.”
But our “street smarts” disappear in the middle of the night when your car breaks down in a bad part of town with your cell phone dead. Our “common sense” is shown in failed marriages, troubled children, our indebtedness, our pettiness. What if your neighbors could hear you yelling at your children, fighting with your spouse, lusting for their children, coveting their possessions? It is a thin veil of respectability that we hide behind. No one of us has kept the Law. No one of us can stand on his own.
Repent. Be emptied of yourselves. Feel the hunger pangs that cannot be satisfied by mere bread. Turn to the God of compassion, who provides the ram in the thicket, the spotless Lamb who suffers God’s wrath so that we don’t burn. Find satisfaction in Him that the world cannot give. Find peace that passes all understanding. Rest in the forgiveness of sins and justification of your soul, for you are precious in God’s eyes. Feast upon the very body and blood of Christ, given and shed for you—food too good for this creation, but loving provided in mercy. Your Savior comes, meek and lowly, riding into our sanctuary on common bread and wine.
So what do you do? You do nothing. You simply bask in His presence, in His compassion, as you are served by Him, your Servant-King. Let go of the wheel and enjoy the ride. Feast in the desert on bread you did not earn. Lose yourself in His words. Be drawn out, and there you will find your true calling as a child of God upon whom He ceaselessly dotes and fusses, for whom nothing is too good. This is His glorious compassion. Thanks be to God. He does all things well. In the name of the Father and of the Son (†) and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The peace of God which passes all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus always. Amen.
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