Passing On the Ministry

Matthew 14:13-21

Rev. Dr. Mary Alice Mulligan

The 14th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew begins with a flashback. When Herod hears about Jesus, we are informed how Herod had previously arrested John the Baptizer, then promised his stepdaughter she could have anything she wanted. She asked for John’s head on a platter. Herod complied. Some of John’s disciples found Jesus and told him John had been killed.

Our passage begins with Jesus’ withdrawing to be by himself after hearing about John’s death. Certainly, Jesus deserves to have some time to grieve, but also, wouldn’t Jesus be thinking that if Herod can arbitrarily kill the prophet John the Baptizer, what might be in store for him? No wonder he heads off to a deserted place. However, the crowd never lets Jesus alone for long, so they are right there when he comes ashore. Instead of slipping away to be alone a bit longer, Jesus is flooded with compassion for them and reaches out to heal them. From the 14th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew, listen for the word of God.

Matthew 14:13-21                                                                                                                                       

Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children.

What a powerful scene. Jesus, exhausted, grieving, perhaps wondering about his own future, heads to an isolated area of the beach, but when he pulls his boat ashore, the crowd is just arriving too, clamoring for him, which stirs his compassion. He spends the rest of the day healing and probably teaching. As the hours tick by, and people’s trail mix and chocolate bars are gone, the disciples realize they need to break up the party, so people can get some real food. But when they make the suggestion to Jesus, he responds with something like, “I’ve been teaching you, showing you, how to live out God’s compassion. Now it’s time for you to get busy. You feed them.” After all, if Herod can kill John, Jesus better get serious about empowering his followers to carry on his work.

Jesus trusts us with his ministry. Two thousand years ago, Jesus taught his followers to share his work. Like those first disciples, the church of every generation has seen needs all around them. And through the millennia, the church can almost hear Jesus’ voice telling us, “You give them something to eat.” You solve their hardship.

Throughout the history of the church, part of being church has included being attentive to and working with the least, the last, and the lost. The ministry of Jesus has been passed on to people who are trusted by Christ. Every church has people who are particularly attentive servants, faithfully receiving their ministry from Jesus. These are the people who are first into the kitchen, always sterilizing everything in the nursery, carrying the basket of dirty church linens home to wash, setting up the sanctuary on Saturday afternoon, washing Communion ware after worship, tidying up whatever the rest of us leave behind after every event. No surprise Jesus trusts them.

In one congregation, there is a long-standing tradition of giving an honor similar to an emeritus deacon designation to a person who has a reputation as one of those consistent servants. They call them Servants of the Towel and Basin. The name comes from the story of Jesus’ final meal with his disciples in the Gospel of John. Of the four Gospels, only John has no institution of Communion at the Last Supper. Instead, John tells how Jesus institutes foot washing. He performed the lowliest task. And he tells them to do to each other as he has done to them. In essence, he passes on the towel and basin to every one of his followers, urging them to learn to do what he has shown them.

St. Andrew doesn’t have a servant of the towel and basin designation, but it is not only the hard-working, consistent servants who are called. Every follower is handed the towel. As St. Andrew United Church of Christ gathers in the presence of the Spirit of Christ, we hear Jesus saying he trusts every one of us with his ministry.

But we fear we can’t do it. Lots of us are convinced we are not able to do what Jesus asks of his disciples. Let’s face it. We don’t feel like we have spectacular spiritual gifts. We aren’t about to go into a new city, stand in a busy intersection, and start preaching about Jesus, converting hundreds of people. Ane none of us is going to sell all our possessions to give to the poor. And no one here looks like St. Teresa of Kolkata. The ministry of Jesus is beyond the abilities of any one of us. Perhaps that is why, after someone saw the bulletin sent out on Thursday, they asked me to explain the sermon title. Why was I going to preach about people who took a pass on doing the ministry of Jesus? She read the sermon title as if Jesus said, “I need some help carrying out my ministry.” And the person he was speaking to responded, “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Get it? “Passing on the Ministry.”

Many of us are okay doing the little stuff in the Christian life, like the appeal to feed the hungry. We can bring in a can of tuna and a jar of peanut butter for the food pantry. Or when Jesus calls to protect the vulnerable, we can make a financial donation to the Samaritan Fund or bring in deodorant and diapers for Family Promise. But we suspect Jesus’ ministry is a call to make a real difference, like working for a higher minimum wage, or spending a month with a Global Ministries project, or taking a homeless person (perhaps a foster child about to age out) into our home. How many of us could honestly say we could do any of those things? We fear we do not have the gifts necessary to tackle his big ministry. Sort of like the disciples in the story. We see the need but feel like we have nothing to offer. That’s what they said. We have nothing. Just a lunchbox of talents to solve astronomical needs. We are only human, after all. No matter how much we wish we could follow Jesus more closely, we feel unable to take on his real work.

However, our ministry is sacramental. When we put our talents in Jesus’ hands, we cannot fail. Our efforts become holy. Our ministry becomes sacramental.

Sacrament is one of those “churchy” words, so let’s unpack it a little. In the fifth century, Augustine wrote, “A sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” Which is fine, except “grace” is another of those churchy words. In ancient Greece, when the gods extended “grace” to a human, the human received power beyond normal human abilities. Curiously, grace also included a superhuman ability to be kind. In the First Testament, grace was linked with “favor,” when humans received grace from God, it meant they were in God’s favor. So, a sacrament is an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual empowerment indicating God’s favor or acceptance, which should result in extraordinary kindness.

The United Church of Christ, like many Protestant denominations, considers two church actions as Sacraments: Baptism and Communion. Performing our various ministries of giving, caring, feeding, and sharing, are not formal sacraments, but as we perform them together, they become sacramental. They are holy, empowering, performative, because we place our little gifts into Jesus’ hands. Then he takes, blesses, breaks, and gives them back to us to serve the world. We are empowered to carry on the ministry of Jesus together.

The story we hear today (you might want to turn to your scripture) uses sacrament language. Disciples give Jesus the lunchbox, which he takes, blesses, breaks, and gives to the disciples to give to the crowds. Now look at the Communion liturgy we will use in just a few minutes. What do we say happens just before Jesus gives himself up to suffering and death? He takes, blesses, breaks, and gives bread to the disciples. It’s the sacrament of Communion, in a deserted place with crowds, and in the upper room with the disciples. Common food becomes holy. And from Jesus’ hands, our common service to others becomes holy.

When we accept ministry from Jesus’ hands, we don’t take it on alone. Sacramental action happens in community, here in the community of faith. So as a community of faith – formal members, associate members, active participants, first time visitors, and everyone else connected in any way to St. Andrew – we are handed holy work from the hands of Jesus, which we are able to take on, because Jesus makes our ministry together sacramental.

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