“A Camp Parable”

Eighth Sunday after Pentecost | July 18, 2021

Ephesians 2:11-22

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

As most of you know, I was at Carol Joy Holling Camp with seven Catechism students, as well as my son and his best friend. If you’ve ever been to the camp or witnessed even a part of the week out there, you see a variety of things. You see kids with so much energy, actively engaged, fully participating, doing everything with gusto and a smile. You see kids trudging to the next event, either tired, lonely, or homesick, ready for the week to be over. You see kids being silly, pushing boundaries, breaking down, and building others up. You see kids being kids.

And then, there are the counselors and activity directors and site managers. And you see them up early in the morning, mustering their energy to lead super tired kids in active singing. You see them encouraging those who are scared; you see them dragging along those who are cranky; you see them listening to those who have so much to say; you see them excitedly teaching another prayer, another passage, another skill; you see them doggedly telling the same kids to stop whacking the branches; you see them striving to be patient when one kid gets a fishing lure stuck in his pocket and then, the next day, when another kid gets that same lure embedded in his finger; you see them swimming and getting muddy and going on hikes and cleaning and playing and making friendship bracelets. What you don’t see much of during the week is resting. I’m told that happens on the weekends, but this was week six of eight, and there’s not much left of these leaders. And this week they were dropping like flies.

And then there are the pastors. And camp is an odd week for us. We get up early for worship. We help bolster the counselors. We teach for an hour. We tag along for hikes and horseback riding. We might wander the trails or hook up for snowcones. We try to get some kids to talk during meals and keep others from molding their flatware into eyeglasses and hair brushes for a half hour before we help them be quiet long enough for announcements. We have down time when we want it. And yet, I am exhausted after this week. Not in a bad way—just lots of walking and talking and catching up with campers doing fun things and silly things. And thankfully, our kids had nothing to do with the fishing lure debacles.

And so, I can’t but think about this past week as I ponder the gospel lesson today. Again, Mark does this sandwiching thing with his stories. Like the story of the woman who had hemorrhaged for 12 years placed between the story of Jairus asking Jesus to heal his daughter, this is the story of sending the twelve, bracketing the story of John the Baptist’s murder. Jesus sends the twelve out with nothing but the shirt on their back and the sandals on their feet. They are to preach repentance, heal the sick, and cast out demons.

Then, we hear about John and Herod and the scandalous way in which Herod murders Jesus’ cousin. After which, we return to the ones Jesus sent. Upon their return, they are full of energy after all that they had done and witnessed. They are not just disciples but apostles—the ‘sent ones.’ They’re not just following—they’re doing. They’re emulating their teaching. And, for a moment, if feels as if they have learned it all and are ready to take it on the road.

They are wired and tired and overstimulated—much like a bunch of campers after a snow cone and a s’more. They want to stay up late and tell their stories. They’re full of energy—high on the experiences they just got done with.

But Jesus sees the bigger picture. Hearing about his cousin’s death, he knows that the ministry isn’t going to be all fun and games. He knows there are difficult times to come. And he knows that he and the disciples are going to need their strength for the coming days, weeks, and months. Not every experience is going to end with excitement.

He calls them to come away and rest. Eat. Restore their strength. But now that the twelve are back from their own ministry adventure, Jesus isn’t the only one recognized by the people. Word has gotten out. They are sought after. Followed. Hounded. Even trying to retreat quietly is met with crowds. No camp counselor is safe from the onslaught of beloved campers. Going to a deserted place isn’t enough. They are met with thousands who hunger for more than food. Jesus says they are like sheep without a shepherd. Their spiritual home is no longer the place it was intended to be. Their leaders cannot and do not provide what they need—a word of hope, sustenance to keep them going…life.

We end up skipping over two big stories in today’s lectionary. As the crowds gather, the disciples want Jesus to send them away. They’ve hit a wall. And everyone, including the disciples, are hungry. They’re tired. They have nothing left to offer. But instead of sending them home, Jesus tells the disciples to give the people something to eat. And that just does them in. They come up with a few loaves of bread and a couple of little fish. And in the blessing and the breaking, Jesus makes it enough. Enough with some to spare. And everyone has their fill.

Finally, sated and filled with not only bread but hope, the people can rest. Jesus sends the disciples into the boat, and he himself finds a quiet place to pray. The weekend has come, and everyone gets a little break. But now the disciples are anxious. They’re unnerved by the miracle they just witnessed. All their excitement has dissipated, and to top it off, a storm is brewing on the sea and everything is a mess and they have doubts about what they’re doing and why and with whom.

When Jesus sees the disciples struggling, he walks out to them. At which point, the disciples have had enough. Now, they’re seeing ghosts. And, Scripture says, their hearts were hardened. They simply couldn’t take in one more thing. They didn’t understand about the bread—perhaps not just how Jesus did it but WHY Jesus did it. They’re tired and wired and overstimulated. And they’re just done.

So, when our reading steps back in, we don’t hear about how the people saw the disciples and recognized them and went to them. We only hear about Jesus. The disciples went from bineg followers to leaders to just people hanging on for the ride. But Jesus just keeps working. He had filled his cup with prayer. He filled his body with bread. He filled his soul in communion with God. And he was prepared for the next round of ministry.

So, I think about the kids at camp—the transformation they went through in just a week, from nervous to excited to exhausted to maybe a little sad to leave. I think of stories of transformation I heard from and about the counselors—people with their own questions, looking for answers by becoming leaders. I think about the pastors and other church leaders who see God at work through all of these young people, working through the challenges, encouraging one another, and creating a community with the imperfect and beautiful souls that gather.

And I think about us. About this congregation. The ups and downs of our faith and lives together. The trials and challenges we’ve had; moments of encouragement, and opportunities to build and create community with our imperfect and beautiful souls. I think about how God invites us into times of rest, as well as times of service. And I am so thankful to be a member of this Body of Christ. We are often a messy, muddy group of energetic and cranky and silly and excited people. But we are God’s messy, muddy group. We are God’s team of tired and hungry sheep. We are God’s ‘sent ones,’ nudged out into the world to heal and minister. We are God’s gathered, excitedly sharing our stories and awaiting the next great activity in store for us. We are God’s struggling and questioning leaders, often at our rope’s end.

But no matter where we find ourselves on this journey, we are God’s. And we are together.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE