Tenth Sunday after Pentecost [Proper 18] 2026, rcl yr a
ISAIAH 55:1-5; PSALM 145:8-9, 14-21; ROMANS 9:1-5; MATTHEW 14:13-21
all ate and were filled
I have a lot of sympathy for Jesus today. He just wants to get away!
The Gospel today starts with “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.” Jesus just wants to get away, but he can’t.
You do have to admire the crowds though—Jesus tried to make his getaway on a boat. Maybe I just have camping by Lake Huron in mind, but I’m thinking, boats exist for a reason—they make it easier to get from one part of the lake to another, and it’s usually much easier to float your way, than it is to tromp along the shore or through the brush.
But tromp their way to Jesus did the crowds, such that “When [Jesus] went ashore, he saw a great crowd.” And Jesus’s plan to go by boat to a deserted place by himself is foiled, it’s thwarted, and it is frustrated. And yet Jesus does not get frustrated; instead, “he had compassion for them and cured their sick.” Or perhaps he just worked his irritability, and groaning frustration, out of his system while he was still on the boat.
There is far more to this story, though, than just Jesus’s example of spending time alone, or his compassion. The hint that there’s more to this story is found in the first few words of the passage: “Now when Jesus heard this.”
When Jesus heard what? Well—what Jesus had just heard was a report about the his cousin John the Baptist. And, more specifically, a report about the death of John the Baptist. So we should imagine that Jesus is in a moment of mourning, and feeling a sense of loss.
But there’s more than just loss. The report that Jesus has just heard about the death of his cousin is a report about the death of a prophet, and how prophets are treated. John had been arrested, bound, and imprisoned by Herod, because John had been critical of Herod. And at Herod’s birthday party—another banquet—his daughter-in-law had pleased Herod so much with her dancing that he promised her anything. And what she had asked for was John the Baptist’s head on a platter. And Herod gave her what she wanted, for the sake of the oath given before his guests.
“Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew …” Understandably. Jesus was a prophetic figure (and more than a prophet, but a prophetic figure nonetheless); and now he has heard a story about how rulers treat prophets—not well. Jesus’s life is at risk. Jesus has lost a friend and family member to a promise made at a feast, a feast attended by the powerful friends of the emperor—a birthday feast we are to imagine as something almost grotesque, a feast of the finest food and drink, suggestive entertainment, and promises of execution made and kept. And what does Jesus do in response to this story of excess among the powerful and the threat of his own execution? Jesus has a feast of his own.
We should give some credit to the disciples here. They see how late it is, how deserted the place is where they’ve all found themselves with well over a 5 thousand people. The children are hangry, as are the adults. And when the disciples see this they want to be part of the solution to the hunger of the people, and so they suggest to Jesus that he should send them back to the villages so they can buy food for themselves. They are compassionate, they see the need, and they offer a solution to the needs of the people gathered.
But Jesus has another solution: “They need not go away” he says, “you give them something to eat.” And from their small offering—five loaves of bread, and two fish—and with Jesus breaking the bread, and offering the bread, and giving that bread to the disciples and then the disciples giving the bread to the crowds, well over five thousand people are fed.
We are meant to look backward and forward to understand this story. Jesus is with the over 5 thousand in a deserted place, like Moses in the wilderness, where the Israelites too were fed by bread from heaven. The five loaves are like the five books of Moses, the first books of our Old Testament, the two fish the Law and the Prophets—the Scriptures that continue to feed and nourish us. The 12 baskets of leftover food are for the 12 tribes of the Israel that Jesus loves.
And we can hear some eucharistic echoes here too, can’t we. Jesus will break bread again with the disciples at the last supper, where we will hear that “he broke [bread] and gave it to his disciples, saying, ‘Take and eat; this is my body.’” It’s what Jesus does after hearing of the beheading of John the Baptist, and imagining his own fate, while amongst that throng of hungry people: he broke bread, and he gave it.
And it’s what I want you to bring to mind as we celebrate the eucharist, and the bread is broken in your presence, and before your eyes—that in Jesus, and through Jesus, and him broken, we are each fed as though we were among those thousands of people, as though we are among the disciples. And that there is no end to the feast to which we are brought in the death and life of Jesus.
And let us not forget the contrast between Herod’s birthday feast, and the feast of the feeding of the over 5 thousand. Herod’s feast is in private, for the sake of a few, and a matter of entertainment and mutual loyalty among the already powerful and already well-fed. It is a closed feast. But Jesus’s feast is open, is meant for us all, and a matter of loyalty too, but a loyalty to God in Christ that opens us up to others, rather than keeping us closed to others. Making us open not just to the people we already know, but especially to those who hunger and thirst.
The co-op’s meals are such a good example of this—just come. You will be fed. Credentials will not be checked. It doesn’t matter if you’ve already received food elsewhere or not—there will be no lists of the worthy or unworthy.
And we find the centre of that generosity, the centre where the prophet (who is more than a prophet) is sacrificed in a death once and for all, a sacrifice with no end but life—we find that centre in Jesus offered in the eucharistic feast of bread and wine that we are about to share—a feast that brings us into the kingdom of the one broken for us like bread, and given to us like bread, that we might have life, and have life abundantly.
Jesus does, in the end, find his rest. Jesus “made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray.” In this feast we are about to share, may you find it too a road not to overwhelming work and obligation, but to rest and the restoration of your soul to God.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.