10th Sunday after Pentecost 2026

Sermon: 10th Sunday after Pentecost 2026

Texts: Isaiah 55:1-5; Romans 9:1-5; Matthew 14:13-21

Grace, Peace, and Mercy from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

One of the most meaningful Christian activities I’ve encountered in my life is volunteering to feed people. There is something basically humane and good about serving food to others, to be part of God’s answer to our neighbor’s petition in the Lord’s prayer: “give us this day our daily bread”. In many ways, by baptizing baby Ford today, not only does He receive this assurance that he is God’s beloved, but he will learn how to be part of a community that seeks to be part of God’s answer to that same petition. I must say, God is still teaching me! One of the places that has trained me in such striving has been spending time at Faith Kitchen, the joint efforts of Christian, Jewish, and Muslim neighbors to feed people in Cambridge, especially those who are unhoused or food insecure, reminds me often of how essential this simple act is to the Christian life. We should never take it for granted, how powerful a meal can be. Food has important connections to identity, to memory, to culture and belonging, to spiritual practice. We don’t have to look too far for the fact that our worship is highlighted by a sacramental meal where Christ feeds us with His presence. So indeed, the power of food goes beyond the fulfilment of bodily need, although as modern Christians, we’ve had to rediscover the importance of this fulfilment, since we often forget that Christianity is not only about the care of the spiritual, it is also care for the body. In the ancient world, to be well fed was not a given. Food insecurity was widespread, especially among the majority of people who were poor. And many cultures did not make the charity of giving food to the hungry a fixture of their way of life. For the Christian, however, to feed the hungry is not an optional philanthropy to

gain political clout, for the Christian, feeding the hungry is a primary duty, the essence of our place in the world according to God’s desire. God’s Kingdom arrives precisely when the hungry are fed, spiritually and physically.

So as we read and listen to our Gospel text today in Matthew, we learn once more about the essence of God’s Kingdom according to Jesus. First and foremost, when Jesus sees the people gathered to see Him, He is moved by compassion for them. An important term that we must always turn back to. I imagine how many powerful people today see the crowds of needy people. Compassion is not necessarily the words that come to mind. It is suspicion, worry, fear, even hatred. As followers of Jesus, we are then asked to question, not the needy, but ourselves. How do we respond when we see the hungry crowds? What is stirring within us? What do the powers of this world want us to think, and what does God call us to do? If we are rooted in the Gospel life, then we must pray to receive Christ’s compassion, because in that compassion we will be led to our heart’s greatest yearning, the presence of God and the Kingdom of God ‘s justice come near. In our times, there is so much distrust going around, so much despair that springs from other systemic issues in our society, that when we see the Other we sometimes shut down from fear, we do not want to let that Other cross our borders, we want them away from us, without knowing their story. Yet, as the church, we are at the forefront of a new society, we represent the universal vision of humanity rooted in Christ, seeing them with the eyes of God, embracing them with His love. And thus in the church we are being re-formed and conformed to the ways of Christ. So we might finally ask the question, what does it mean to look at the others that approach us, those we feared in the past, with the

compassion of Christ? Is another space at the table being opened, for us to welcome and feed that other in fulfilment of God’s commandment? Indeed, this compassion opens possibilities.

Which leads us to Christ’s surprising commandment to His disciples regarding this crowd of people that showed up. The disciples, ever trying to be practical at times, asked Jesus to send the crowd away: “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.” They took stock of their situation, and thought, well these folks better feed themselves. They did not feel any responsibility towards them or thought it possible to care for these people that came to see Jesus. Yet, Jesus’ response upends their thinking: “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” I think here we see how Jesus sees the world differently than we do. Like disciples, we might often say, send these other away, let them find their own food and way, we cannot help them. Our thoughts don’t run towards compassion, they are more rooted in the scarcity mindset: this is a deserted place, there are too many people, we only have five loaves and two fishes; there is only enough for ourselves. But the Kingdom of God is not scarce. The Kingdom of God is abundance in the deserted place. It is a fount of compassion that breaks apart our scarcity, and widens the reach of mercy. “They need not go away; you give them something to eat” says Jesus. This is not so we forget our limits or means, this is not so we act irrationally in our service to others, this is said to us to uproot our despair and to see things in the light of the Kingdom. This is to recognize who we are tagging along with, we are with Christ, and His Kingdom is bringing about a new world, where the response is not to send away the hungry, but

how will we feed them. Where the response is “there are too many”, we rather say how do we include the 5,000 men, women and children? The Gospel mindset, the mindset of the church, is the one that is looking beyond to hope, to see what is possible with compassion, to broaden the table and bring over the feast. The church is not the community of the bottom line, we are the community of Christ’s Word and Promise: “Bring them here to me” He says. Christ fulfills the promise, echoed in Isaiah: “Hear, everyone who thirsts; come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.” The Kingdom brings its abundance of compassion to manifest. How do we root ourselves in this new perspective of Christ’s command: “You give them something to eat; bring them here to me”? It is, of course, because we have something to give, and we trust that even the small portion that we have, will serve a purpose of love and compassion that can transform lives and expand into a greater abundance. The church is not called to set the limits, it is called to the faithfulness of trusting the wideness of God’s mercy for the hungry. We have something to give. First of all, we have real food, we are called to supply the material needs of our neighbors, it is our responsibility. But we also, more than anything, have Christ. We have Christ to give! Let us never restrict or send away others from getting to know the Gospel which lets people know that God loves them, that there is liberation from sin, that there is another way possible, the way of redeeming love. Borrowing a bit from a philosopher, although not in the fullness of his argument, he called religion “the heart of a heartless world, the soul of soulless conditions”. In this, I think the church would play it’s role well, that when the world seeks to send away, we come with heart and soul to a living hope of another

possibility, of a broader table. Not merely in spiritual terms, but also in material ones, for Christ clearly cares for body and soul. We are not here to simply console others with the promises of God’s eternity (that has its place), we are also here to console others with love in action, meaning justice.

And thus, how great it is we are all being led to the same table together, Christ has called us to stay with Him, to not be sent away but to receive His plenty. Here we are fed with His life, so that we may go out and feed others with the life we have been given, to give ourselves away as bread for the hungry. Let us keep asking for daily bread, not only for ourselves, but for our neighbor also, for the stranger and the others we might fear. For we are also the hungry crowd, we are also the subject of Christ’s compassionate gaze; casting out the hungry would mean casting out our own. Let us ask also for that spiritual bread of God’s Kingdom, that we might share in the feast of the new world of eternal love and justice, for daily bread is also the bread we await for the future, when all will have their share in God. Let us hope anew for Christ’s limitless generosity, that does not send us away hungry, but feeds us in body and soul. Let us be banners of Christ’s hope and compassion for all. Let us then pray.