August 2, 2026
Pentecost 10a
Matthew 14:13-21
Epiphany, Winnipeg
Isn’t it strange that the disciples come to Jesus and say “This is a deserted place.”
A deserted place? The way Matthew tells it, there are 5,000 men. Well, 5,000 men besides women and children, right there. So let’s call it 14,000 – 5,000 men, 5,000 women, 4,000 children. A deserted place, with 14,000 people? 14,000 heartbeats and footprints and hopes and dreams and fears and loves and hates and angers and joys and frustrations and hungers and fullnesses… A deserted place? But there probably are those in the crowd who can’t find a job or can’t find their next meal and the place is somehow a desert with hopes that are drying up. And who knows how many people in the crowd are heartbroken as they grieve, and the place is a desert with no joy? There are certainly more than a handful who can be in a crowd of 14,000 and still feel like they are all alone, and nobody notices them, and might as well be deserted; there is no one to be a companion or a friend. And maybe it’s a crowd of people who have no food because the Romans who occupy the land take the harvest away to sell on foreign markets, and the crowds have no say in their lives because the Pilates and the Herods call all the shots. It’s a desert where profit matters more than people.
14,000 people…. But the place doesn’t need to be empty to seem deserted. Winnipeg, pushing 800,000 people, and for so many it’s a desert where food is hard to find, or it’s a hot dry place with no shelter from the heat of the sun, or it’s a lonely place with no friend in sight. Even Winnipeg can somehow be a deserted place.
And whether it’s a desert or a crowd, the disciples take this food, just five loaves of bread and a couple of fish, all broken up into pieces, and they wander into the crowd in this deserted place. With loaves and fish to share, they step in and become part of the crowd.
Maybe the story is not really about the loaves and fish, or about a miracle and a wonder. Maybe it’s really about the crowd. A crowd with all that mix of people. Just a crowd. And when Jesus sees the crowd, he has compassion for the crowd.
Now the crowd is bigger than we thought. If you’ve grown up with this story, what have you always heard it called? The feeding of the…5,000. But as I said before, Matthew tells it differently. There were 5,000 men, besides women and children. The gospel of John just says 5,000 in all; Mark and Luke just say, 5,000 men. Nothing against John and Mark and Luke…but if Mark doesn’t count the women, Matthew does. And if Luke doesn’t count the children, Matthew does. In the crowd that Jesus sees, even the ones who don’t count get counted. In this world as Jesus sees it, the ones who don’t matter do matter, the ones who are unseen are seen. Do you or I feel ever feel like we don’t matter, and we don’t count? We do matter. Always. Are there some in the world we might not count? They count; they matter. Are there some that the world just doesn’t see, because they’re not rich enough, or powerful enough, or not this or that enough, or not enough like me or you? In the crowd that Jesus sees, everyone is seen. Always.
It’s all about the crowd. It’s bigger than we think. Wider than we think. Deeper than we think. And five loaves and a couple of fish are enough.
A few years ago six of us – Val and I, our sons, and my parents – were at a restaurant in Saskatoon for supper. We’d finished eating, and when the waiter asked about desert we agreed that peanut butter pie was necessary. But someone had the idea that we should just order one piece to share. I thought that was a weird idea, because, well, peanut butter pie, right? The weird idea won out, though, and we ordered one piece…and six forks. We passed the piece around, small forkful by small forkful. The pie went around the table four or five times, and a wondrous thing happened: Every forkful was so good, and by the time we scraped the last piece of sweet happiness off the plate, and we’d put down our forks and sat back with a sigh, we were all satisfied. We didn’t lack anything. Passing around the pie was perfect. Now I know that we were already filled by supper, but that’s not the point. What happened was that none of us thought we needed our own piece of pie, or that a little was not going to be enough. We were changed into a small group of people who passed around what we had, and we were satisfied.
When Jesus feeds all these people, it’s not that he makes more food; instead, it’s just that a little bit is enough. So twelve disciples are changed. They thought that there wasn’t enough to go around, and resources were scarce, and they should send the people away to fend for themselves. But Jesus just turned them all into waiters…servers who come to the table with five loaves, two fish, and fourteen thousand forks. And there’s more than enough to go around.
We are changed from a group of disciples - whatever the size we are – from a group who might say that there aren’t enough of us or we don’t have enough money or resources are thin. We are a group of disciples in a world where we’re told that there’s not enough to go around, so we better look after our own, hold on to what we’ve got… But Jesus makes us into servers who come to the crowded table with five loaves, two fish, and sixty or a hundred or fourteen thousand forks. And our life never needs to be about scarcity. Instead, it’s all about generosity, and sharing whatever we have.
Because Jesus takes bread and fish, blesses it all, and sends it on its way. When he does that, everything turns from scarcity and not having enough to “what we have is here for everyone.”
And then maybe there’s even a scene like this in the crowd: One of Jesus’ disciples out there in that crowd is named Barnabas; he’s probably the one you haven’t heard of. And he’s out there handing out this bread and this fish and soon he realizes that he’s given away the last of his bread and his fish and his hands are suddenly empty. Then a stranger, another face in the crowd, comes over with some bread and fish they’ve been given, and they give a bit to Barnabas and he has what he needs again. Nobody in the crowd is left empty; it’s generosity all around.
Take a look again at the crowd. Can you see yourself in that crowd, with all those people on the hillside? Maybe you’re one of the many in the crowd who can’t make ends meet. Maybe you’re one of the so many in the crowd who is so wrapped up in grief, or your one of those whose memories of what has been are too hard to bear. Maybe you’re one of the people who’s doing alright, and you’re sure you lack nothing. That’s OK. Maybe you love being in the crowd, with all these people all around, or maybe you don’t like crowds at all, or you’re in the crowd and you’re certain that you’re not like them, and you wish you could be anywhere else but there. Whatever the crowd, we’re likely see a bit of ourselves in everyone there, or in someone there.
We’re all in the crowd, and Jesus has compassion for the crowd. The crowd on a hillside, the crown in the town; the crowd in a church, the crowd in a prison; the crowd in the bar, the crowd at the game, the crowd of those voices in your head…Jesus has compassion for the crowd, and feeds us with a generous hand. 5 Look at the crowd again, and of course there’s another face in the crowd. He started out in a boat, looking for a deserted place alone, but instead he found a crowded place, and he came ashore. He wasn’t stopped by the talk about scarce resources, not enough to do anything, deserted places. And he took some bread and some fish….and found his way into that crowd.
And it really is about the crowd. For Jesus, it really is all about the crowd. Living and dying and living again with the crowd. With bread and wine, bread and fish, more than enough love to go around. Always more than enough, for the crowd where he chooses to be.