They Won’t Go Away
a sermon by John W. Wimberly, Jr.
Pastor, Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, D.C.
August 3, 2008

Text: Matthew 14:13-21

Our lectionary Gospel lesson starts with the words, “Now when Jesus heard this.” “This” was the news that Jesus’ colleague in ministry, John the Baptist, had been beheaded by Herod.  The reason for this brutal act?  The King became enamored with a young woman who was dancing before him.  He told her she could have anything she wanted.  Incredibly, she asked for John’s head.  In short order, it was delivered to her on a platter.  Such is the value of life to the Herods of history.

Hearing this shocking, depressing news, Jesus withdrew from the crowds in a boat “to a lonely place apart.” Crushed by the news of John’s death, Jesus needed to get away—from his family, the disciples, the crowds, everyone.  He didn’t want to talk about God’s love. He didn’t want to heal anybody.  He didn’t want to work for justice.  He just wanted to be alone, think and cry.  I would wager he also wanted to scream at God a bit. 

Jesus wasn’t close personal friends with John.  They were very different types of people. Indeed, Jesus didn’t always agree with everything John said or did.  At times, the Baptizer went too far for Jesus.  Reports of John’s angry rhetoric sometimes made the Galilean wince. 

But Jesus knew a person sent by God when he saw one.  And there was absolutely no doubt in Jesus’ mind that John had been sent by God.  Jesus knew that John’s harsh message calling for radical repentance was something the people needed to hear. The people of Israel had grown lax.  Too many of them rationalized rather than followed the Torah; ignored rather than cared for the weak and poor. 

While John’s death was a huge setback to God’s redemptive work in the world, it also had very personal implications for Jesus.  Surely mixed into his grief were Jesus’ apprehensions about what the future surely would bear for him. 

Much has been made about Jesus’ ability to foresee his own death.  We don’t need to go there.  Jesus didn’t require supernatural abilities or powers to foresee his fate. 

As Jesus considered John’s execution, it was perfectly clear to him that the same thing eventually would happen to him.  He was going to be killed by the principalities and powers.  It had happened to many of the prophets of his time.  It was going to happen to him.

John’s death may also have triggered signs in Jesus of what we call burnout.  If he didn’t consider “what is the point?,” then he wasn’t fully human.  He had to be wondering about the overall direction and effectiveness of his own ministry. 

Sure, Jesus knew he had given lots of people hope and healed hundreds of people.  But at some level he had to be asking himself, “So what? So what if I heal a few people and bring others closer to God?  Faced with the ruthless and overwhelming power of Rome, what difference does it make?”

Working with grassroots organizations for my entire career, I can’t tell you how many people I have watched burn out.  The first few directors we had at Miriam’s Kitchen were incredibly dedicated but they burned out in a little more than a year.

As a society, we dump many of our most challenging problems on a very small bunch of dedicated organizations and people.  A handful of underpaid, over-worked people daily grapple with the problems of the homeless, abuse victims, discharged prisoners, chronic substance abusers, and HIV/AIDS victims.  Staring the worst of society’s problems in the eye hour after hour, day after day, year after year, how can these saints not burn out? 

Going from before the sun rose until after the sun set, how could Jesus not have struggled with burn out?  Senators Obama and McCain have both spoken about the way their lives have changed as presidential candidates.  There is no rest.  It is impossible to get away from the crowd, reporters, security people.  There has to be a feeling of being a prisoner. 

So it was with Jesus.  As this story, reveals, Jesus couldn’t get away from the crowds.  Even in this moment when he desperately needed some personal time and space, he couldn’t find it.  By the time Jesus rowed himself to a supposedly deserted place, it was no longer deserted.  Writes Matthew, “When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd.”

Now again, if Jesus was fully human, his first reaction had to be, “My God, won’t these people leave me alone?” If it was me, I would have looked at that crowd and said, “Oops, wrong beach.  See you in a couple of weeks.  I’m going to Mexico.  Keep hope alive.” I then would have gotten back in the boat and rowed furiously in the opposite direction.  But not Jesus.

Matthew missed a major point when he wrote, “he saw a great crowd.” Because Jesus didn’t see a crowd.  He looked on the shore and saw a woman with a sick child, a young religious leader whose face glowed with hope, a slave carrying his chains.  Seeing not a crowd, but individuals in need, the thought of walking away never crossed Jesus mind. 

These individuals and their very individual needs were his reason for being, his calling, his joy.  He was charged and recharged by their needs.  And so says Matthew, “he had compassion for them and cured their sick.”

When the disciples caught up with Jesus and realizing their master was still traumatized by the death of John, they advised him to send the crowds away.  They could see he needed a break.  “Let them fend for themselves in the nearby villages where they can buy food,” they argued.  But Jesus wouldn’t hear it.  “We will feed them and we will feed them here and now.” He then proceeded to multiply miraculously five loaves of bread and two fish, until five thousand people were fed.

This story reveals an important fact about the relationship between our problems and those of our neighbors.  The fact that we are going through tough times doesn’t mean that everyone else’s problems evaporate.  We can’t allow our grief, pain or hurt to blind us to the grief, pain and hurt of others.

Jesus’ grief and even despair over John the Baptist’s death gave him more than adequate justification for getting away, taking a break.  But his personal crisis didn’t cause the needs of the crowd to disappear.  No matter how bad Jesus felt, how deep his personal crisis was, the lame still couldn’t walk, the blind couldn’t see, the anxious remained anxious. 

Rather than seeing all of these folks and their needs as an imposition, his pain created a bond with their pain; his grief with their grief.  His problems didn’t cause him to create distance from others. It brought him closer to others with problems.

This congregation is filled with people who care—intensely.  You are a group of people who show you care through your vocational choices.  Your care is visible in the way you take care of your family, friends, neighbors and church members.  It is really quite inspirational.

However, people who care so intensely are subject to burn out.  Watching people get sick, die, be treated unjustly, marginalized, we reach a point where we don’t think we can take it anymore.  One part of us wants to run away; another part wants to remain and work. 

If we don’t have a strategy to avoid burn out, we will burn out.  As far as I can figure it out, Jesus avoided burn out by 1) taking care of himself and 2) taking care of others.

When he got word of John’s death, Jesus’ first instinct was to take care of himself.  He tried to get away for a little while, recoup his thoughts, re-center his soul on God.  While he didn’t succeed initially, if we read on in the Gospels, we will see that he did get away later.  Indeed, Jesus regularly took breaks, separated himself from his family, friends and others to care for himself.

What taking care of ourselves means is highly personal, very different for each of us.  For some of us it means being alone.  For others, it means being with family and friends.  For others, it means taking a vacation, reading a book, doing something artistic.  Whatever we need to recharge our batteries, we need to learn what it is.  But what we do to renew ourselves, to allow God to renew us, isn’t as important as doing it.

Jesus never made taking care of himself an end unto itself, as we see some in our culture do.  Indeed, it is futile to do so.  We can’t run away from the problems of the world.  They will follow us, just as they followed Jesus in this story.  No matter where we go, the poor, sick, jobless, disenfranchised will find us.  They are like those bad guys in the Matrix movies who, once destroyed, simply reassemble themselves.

When my wife and I first started dating, we were walking down G Street, in a state of romantic bliss and a disembodied voice said, “Hello Rev. Wimberly.” I responded “Hi, how are you doing?” Phyllis said, “Where did that voice come from?” I said, “It was a homeless guy back in that bush.  You’ll need to get used to that.” Phyllis replied, “Not to worry.  My father was a cardiologist.” I thought, “This relationship has possibilities.”

The needy don’t/won’t go away—needy family members, co-workers, church members, problems in our society.  They don’t go away.  But, Jesus reveals that, ultimately, we don’t burn out because we are over-responding to the needs of others.  We may burn out because we stay in a particular job or field too long; we aren’t taking care of ourselves properly; or we are overburdened in other areas of our lives.  But we won’t burnout because we are doing what God calls us to do. 

So let us never run from those who need us.  At the same time, let us take care of ourselves.  It isn’t a luxury to take care of ourselves.  It is an absolute necessity.  Jesus did it.  We need to do it.

Let us pray: Gracious God, you continue to feed us in so many different ways.  As we come to your Table, strengthen and renew us as only you can.  Amen.