Sermon Notes — November 30, 2025
“Hope Grows From the Manger”
Matthew 14:13-21
Hanging of the Greens
11/30/2025
Rev. Dr. Mary Beth Bernheisel
I still remember the first time I fasted like it was yesterday. This was not the kind of fast where I just forgot to eat – because let me be clear that that has never once happened to me. I have never just forgotten to eat. This was an intentional fast. I was in my first year of seminary, and a second-year student named Nancy was sitting behind me in class. Right before class started she leaned forward and asked me,
“Do you want to be part of a fasting group during Lent?”
When I tell you that I could not have been more confused…
At that point in my life I had only been a United Methodist for about a year, and the concept of the liturgical calendar was still new to me. Fasting, in my mind, was something that Catholics did. Did United Methodists do it, too? Also, didn’t Jesus say in Matthew that if you were going to fast you weren’t supposed to talk about it, much less do it with other people?
But the truth is that I have rarely ever turned down the opportunity to be part of a group, so I said, “Sure” and decided to wrestle with the theology of it later. Besides, I liked Nancy and I figured she wasn’t going to lead me down the path to destruction.
This is what we did, this little group of six, that year during Lent. We set aside Wednesdays for our fast, and we met together three times during the day. We met at the time that we would normally eat breakfast, and then we met again at the time that we would normally eat lunch. During both of those meetings, instead of eating, we prayed for each other and for the world. Our third meeting took place in the evening and we gathered at someone’s home for dinner to break our fast together.
That season of fasting and prayer was one of the most profound spiritual experiences I had ever had up until that point in my life. It was the first time that I had ever connected physical hunger with spiritual hunger – the first time I had allowed physical hunger to teach me about my own human limitations and weaknesses.
Fasting helps us remember just how much we depend on God not just for our daily bread, but to fill us with all the other things that we hunger for.
Will you pray with me and for me?
Today is the first Sunday of Advent. The season of Advent invites us to tend, in a very intentional way, tend to our spiritual lives so that we can prepare our hearts to welcome Jesus once again. We will be guided through this season by the symbol of the manger and the theme
Typically on the first week of Advent our gospel readings are all about signs in the sky preparing us for Jesus’ return to earth – his second coming – but on this first week of Advent our scripture is about food – the kind of food that fills our bellies and the kind of food that fills all of the empty places inside of us.
It is no coincidence that Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Translated from Hebrew, Bethlehem actually means
House of Bread
And it is no coincidence that on the night that Jesus was born in the city called House of Bread, his mother tenderly laid him in a feeding trough – the place where the animals came to eat – because there was no crib or bassinet or Pack and Play. The baby born in the house of bread came to fill the spiritual hunger of the whole world.
On the night that Jesus was born, the manger became the meeting place between heaven and earth. Jesus, the bread of heaven, came down from heaven to become one of us – to be in relationship with us. He came to introduce us to his heavenly father so that his heavenly father could become our heavenly father, and so that we could become his brothers and sisters.
Jesus came to the lowest place on earth, vulnerable, helpless, and humble to give hope to all who are vulnerable, helpless, and humble.
He came to a feeding trough because he is the bread of life who came to fill the hungry of all kinds with good things of all kinds.
What are you hungry for this Advent season? What emptiness do you need Jesus to fill in your life?
Our text from Matthew shows us what happens when the grown-up Jesus comes face to face with hungry people, but to fully understand this story we have to know what happens before Jesus feeds this multitude in Galilee.
When you get home this afternoon, read the whole story about Herod and John the Baptist starting at the beginning of Matthew 14, but the short version of the longer story is that Herod was hosting a feast – a banquet – for his birthday. There was a dancer there who was so gifted and talented, and whose performance made Herod so happy that he told her he would give her anything she asked for.
And what did she ask for?
The head of John the Baptist on a plate. Jesus’s cousin.
Now, Herod himself was not a fan of John the Baptist. In fact, he had probably already given some serious thought to how he could get rid of John the Baptist for good. But like any good tyrant, he weighed his options carefully. John the Baptist was very popular with the common folks. If Herod were to kill him, those same common folks would be angry with Herod, and Herod didn’t dare risk the anger of so many people.
But a promise is a promise, and right there in the middle of his birthday banquet Herod sent someone to the prison where John the Baptist was being held, along with instructions to cut off his head and bring it back to the party.
And that’s what happened.
John’s disciples sent word to Jesus about what had happened to his cousin John the Baptist, and that is where today’s text picks up. Verse 13 says that
When Jesus heard about John, he withdrew in a boat to a deserted place by himself. When the crowds heard this they followed him on foot from the cities. (Matthew 14: 13)
And that is how we end up with Jesus in the middle of nowhere surrounded by 5,000 men along with untold numbers of women and children. He was trying to go away – he was seeking a moment to be alone – so that he could process his own grief and perhaps share his heart with his heavenly father. But the crowds follow him on foot and by the time he gets out of the boat they are already there waiting for him.
And they are hungry.
They probably aren’t hungry for food. Not just yet. That will come later. They are hungry for what they have come to realize only Jesus can give them. At first, Matthew tells us, Jesus heals the sick, but Matthew also speaks of Jesus’s compassion for everyone in the crowd. I’m going to teach you my favorite Greek word, but first I want you to put your hand on your belly.
What’s there?
Your guts, right?
Your stomach and your intestines and your liver and your pancreas and all the stuff God put in there so that the food you eat can nourish your whole body . My favorite Greek word is the word that gets translated as in today’s text as compassion in verse 14
When Jesus arrived and saw a large crowd, he had compassion for them.
The word translated compassion in Hebrew is this:
ἐσπλαγχνίσθη
Transliterated it’s this:
Splagchnizomai
And my best attempt at pronouncing it is
(Wait for it)
It literally means
to be moved in one’s bowels
To feel it in your gut.
When Matthew tells us that Jesus had compassion on the crowds, he’s telling us that Jesus saw the crowds and he felt it in his guts.
And that is what the crowds are hungry for–they are hungry for Jesus’s compassion. They want to know that they matter – that the smallest details of their lives actually matter to him and, by extension, to the God of the universe. Jesus sees them and Jesus cares about them – not just their physical hunger but the emptiness and even desperation that they feel inside. His guts are moved by what moves their guts.
And you know the story. It gets late and the disciples start to get worried about all these people who are out here in the wilderness and so far away from the cities and the towns where they can get food. It’s going to take a long time to get home and fix dinner, but none of them look like they’re getting ready to leave, so the disciples say to Jesus that he should send them away, lest they be stranded in the wilderness with nothing to eat.
And Jesus politely but directly tells the disciples that there is no reason to send the crowds away, and then he tells them – he tells the disciples – to feed the crowds. When they bring him five loaves of bread and two fish, Jesus takes them, blesses them, breaks them, and then hands them back to the disciples to distribute to the crowds. There is no explanation for how the five loaves of bread and two fish become enough to feed 5,000 people plus women and children, only that Jesus has made it happen.
{What other elements of this story ask for our attention? One element is the setting – Jesus has fled to the middle of nowhere to be alone and the crowds have followed him into the wilderness. This isn’t the first time the people of God have found themselves in the wilderness. Moses led the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt and right into the middle of nowhere. And what does God do? God feeds them. After he is baptized Jesus goes to the wilderness for 40 days and nights. At the end of his fast the angels come and feed him because there’s nothing in the wilderness to eat.
Jesus and the disciples and the crowds are in the wilderness. There is nothing there – that’s the primary characteristic of the wilderness. Nothingness. And yet Jesus finds a way to feed the hungry people. Just because we find ourselves in the wilderness doesn’t mean that we are alone. God does God’s best work when we’re in the wilderness, and Jesus is no different. What looks like nothing at all is actually enough.}
Stanley Hauerwas calls Matthew 14 the Tale of Two Banquets. One banquet is set by Herod to celebrate himself. The invitations to his banquet are a reminder of who’s in charge. The food that he serves his guests he serves out of his abundance. Herod’s banquet is a celebration of himself – the one who gets to decide who eats and who goes hungry.
The other banquet is set by Jesus. Jesus feeds everyone who shows up. He feeds them because they are hungry. He feeds them because he loves them. Jesus is in the wilderness, in the middle of his own personal tragedy, and yet he still feels compassion for the crowds. His compassion defies the fear and despair that characterize Herod’s kingdom, and he shows his disciples – he shows the crowds – he shows us what it looks like to live with hope. To live with hope is to keep feeding, to keep healing, to keep letting our guts be moved by other people’s pain.
Jesus filled the hungry with good things. How could he not? His own mother tenderly and gently wrapped him up snug and placed him in the manger in the city called the House of Bread.
What are you hungry for this Advent season? What emptiness are you asking Jesus to fill in your own life? What good things do you need to be filled with?
Whatever you need, you will find it in the manger. Because that is where you will find Jesus.