Jesus withdrew 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.

John the Baptist is dead. Dead as a doornail. Not only is he dead, but the end was not pretty. His head was chopped off and served to Herod on a silver platter. Old John had gotten a little too close for comfort. His sermons had grown a little more pointed, and in the eyes of the crooked king it was curtains.

Jesus receives this news poorly just before our Gospel begins. It is his older cousin,his friend, his predecessor, perhaps even his mentor. My older cousins taught me much, both good and bad. These boys grew into men together. And they were unified in a singular purpose, service to God.

Jesus must get away, he must take a breath, he must compose himself, and so having grown up near the lake waters, he finds a boat and cruises away to the other shore. A minute to think, a minute to cry, a minute to pray in peace, with out having to explain another parable. He needs a quiet place to think.

My favorite TV character of all time, is Ron Swanson, the city manager of the fictional town of Pawnee, Indiana. In one episode of Parks and Rec, one of his employees begins to badger him with a question that has floated around town hall, “If you could take only one thing with you on a deserted island what would it be?” All day long she pesters him to give an answer. Finally at the end of the day, he dryly looks back at her and answers “silence” before shutting and locking his door.

I have to admit these days I yearn for silence too. The phone ringing, the kids squabbling, sirens seemingly headed no where, news blablabla, politicians, blablabla, friends talking about the news and politicians blablablabla. I am sure that sometime in the last six months you have felt that need to run away from it all even just for a moment. To hide in the tool shed, in the bathroom, on the roof. It could be stress, it could be burnout, it could be sadness, or loss of hope.

But just like Jesus in today’s Gospel, sometimes we just need to get away.

But Palestine was small. And the lake was small. And Jesus did not have three big Yamaha outboards, and so the people found him. And this is the most amazing part. He didn’t freak out on them. He didn’t yell. He didn’t beg for a moment, he didn’t loose it like me when my daughters open the shower door so I can settle an argument, is no place sacred.

He looked at them, and he had compassion. He looked at them and he remembered exactly what John died for and exactly what he would die for. For them. Fore each and every one of them. For us. For each and every one of us. And so he starts healing and praying with the crowd. Yes Jesus has found his second wind. All gathered are laser focused on the moment.

At some point a stomach grumbles and they begin to realize that they are far from home, and food is scarce. Here is the main plot line, the part we remember so well, Jesus feeds them, multiplies the love and fishes. He satisfies their hungry bellies.

Perhaps it was those few breaths of solitude, perhaps it was seeing that needy crowd again, perhaps it was a little of both. But Jesus cared for them despite grief, despite exhaustion. Perhaps the burden lifted with the realization that he did not have to do it all alone. There were few loaves and few fish. But there were many hands.

Just as those hands passed loaves and fish so long ago, we now carry that mission. WE are the hands and the feet of Jesus in the world today. And the people are ours to care for, to heal, to teach, and to love. That is our mission, whether it takes place in the grass, or the on information highway, or ten feet apart on some ones front porch.

This moment in time may feel too big for us. It is not. It may feel too scary or too risky. It is not. It may feel like we are going to fold up or curl into a ball at any moment, we are not.

We find ourselves this morning, sitting on the warm grass and yearning for a miracle. Yet look around. It is us that is the miracle. We are the body of Christ in the world. And we will feed the hungry, we will lift up the lonely, we will repair the breach. Time and time again. Never forget that we were built for this purpose and that we will continue to preach God’s grace through our lips and our actions until the end of time.

Let your continual mercy, O Lord, cleanse and defend your Church; and, because it cannot continue in safety without your help, protect and govern it always by your goodness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.