PROPER 11, YEAR B

Sunday, July 18, 2021

St. Uriel’s, Sea Girt, N.J.

Jeremiah 23:1-6

Psalm 23

Ephesians 2:11-22

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

“And [Jesus] had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd ...”  I find that one of the most poignant sentences in the Gospels. Its two phrases are worth a bit of exploration in depth: “they were like sheep without a shepherd,” and “he had compassion on them.”

For the original readers of Mark’s Gospel, the phrase “sheep without a shepherd” would have had deep scriptural resonances. In the Book of Numbers, as the aged Moses contemplates his approaching death, he asks God “to appoint a man over the congregation who shall go out before them and come in before them, who shall lead them out and bring them in; that the congregation of the Lord may not be as sheep which have no shepherd.” In response, God appoints Joshua to be Moses’ successor.

Centuries later, the prophet Micaiah foretells the death of King Ahab in battle with the words: “I saw all Israel scattered upon the mountains, as sheep that have no shepherd; and the Lord said, ‘These have no master; let each return to his home in peace.’” In the Old Testament, then, the phrase “sheep without a shepherd” describes a leadership vacuum leaving the people vulnerable and helpless: a totally undesirable situation.

At this point in Saint Mark’s narrative, however, precisely this situation is facing God’s people. As we heard in last week’s Gospel, John the Baptist, a prophetic leader raised up by God, has just been beheaded by King Herod, who’s himself the very opposite of the kind of shepherd that the kings of Israel were meant to be. He resembles more those whom Jeremiah denounces in today’s Old Testament reading: “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!”

In this context, when Jesus comes ashore and sees a great crowd like sheep without a shepherd, he has compassion on them. The dictionary definition of compassion is “sympathetic concern or distress for the sufferings or misfortunes of others.” The English word comes from the Latin passio, suffering, with the prefix co, “with,” and so means “suffering together” or “suffering with.” Compassion involves imagining what it’s like to stand in the shoes of those who are in need or distress, so that we’re moved by an overwhelming desire to help them.

Even so, the English translation fails to capture the force of the verb in the Greek text rendered here as “he had compassion.” More literally, it says—Wait for this—that he was “moved in his bowels,” a phrase presupposing the ancient idea of the bowels as the seat of the deepest human emotions. This verb thus describes an almost physical, visceral, gut-wrenching reaction. A more idiomatic if slightly sanitized translation into contemporary English might be “his heart went out to them,” or “they broke his heart.”

Jesus himself uses this same verb in three of his parables. First is the parable of the Unforgiving Servant, where a king discovers that one of his servants owes him the astronomical sum of ten thousand talents. When the servant cannot pay, the king orders him sold into slavery along with his wife and children, and all his possessions to be sold as well. When the servant falls on his knees and begs for patience, the king “out of compassion” forgives the whole debt.

The second parable is the Prodigal Son, who takes his share of his father’s inheritance, and goes off to a far country where he wastes everything. After hitting rock bottom, he decides to return to his father’s house and offer his services as a hired hand since he considers himself no longer worthy to be called a son. But when the old man sees him far off, he’s filled with compassion, runs to embrace him, and orders the whole household to celebrate the Prodigal’s return with a great feast.

The third parable is the Good Samaritan. On the lonely winding road from Jerusalem down to Jericho, a traveler is attacked by robbers who beat him, strip him, take all his possessions and leave him by the roadside to die. A priest and a Levite, respected religious leaders, deliberately pass by on the other side of the road to avoid him. But then a Samaritan, a hated enemy of the Jewish people, comes along and has compassion on him. He binds the man’s wounds, sets him on his beast, and brings him to an inn to recover.

In all three parables, the one who has compassion—the master, the father, the Samaritan—stands as a figure of God. For compassion and mercy are among God’s chief characteristics.

Indeed, one of the classical heresies formally condemned by the early Church is the mistaken idea—but an idea that we unfortunately still often hear expressed today—that the God of the Old Testament is a God of wrath and vengeance, while the God of the New Testament is a God of love and forgiveness. Those tempted to believe this might consider that of the 43 occurrences of the Hebrew word for compassion in the Old Testament, in 29 instances—that is, about two thirds of the time—it’s used as a positive attribute of God. The God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament are one and the same: a God merciful and compassionate.

And nowhere does the divine compassion shine forth more brightly than in the life and ministry of Jesus Christ. And so, today’s Gospel concludes: “Wherever he came, in villages, city, or country, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and besought him that they might touch even the fringe of his garment; and as many as touched it were made well.”

As Christians, we’re called to follow Christ’s example. Compassion for the poor and needy, the sick and the dying, the homeless and prisoners, and migrants and refugees, is one of the classical Christian virtues. As Saint Paul writes in his Letter to the Colossians: “Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, and patience.”

Before we can effectively show compassion to those less fortunate than ourselves, however, we need to take on board how much God has already had compassion on us. Before we can assume the role of the forgiving master, the welcoming father, or the Good Samaritan, we need to recognize in ourselves the indebted servant, the prodigal son, the wounded man lying by the roadside.

The good news is that whenever we’re most tempted to feel abandoned, lost, and scattered, like sheep without a shepherd, Jesus sees us and has compassion. As God promises his people in today’s reading from Jeremiah, “‘I will set shepherds over them who will care for them, and they shall fear no more, nor be dismayed, neither shall any be missing,’ says the Lord.” And in that reassurance of God’s compassion for us, we find the strength and courage to reach out and share that same compassion with others.