My curiosity is piqued while looking at the lectionary readings for August. We begin with a reading in Genesis where Jacob has seemingly wrestled with God—and with humans—and has prevailed.

Prevailed against God? I didn’t think that was possible. We close out the month a few weeks later in Matthew, where we are told the gates of Hades will not prevail against this rock, the church. While that does appear to even the score somewhat, there seems to be a lot of struggling and prevailing (or not!) this month.

In the middle weeks we get the astonishing account of Peter somehow walking on water for just a little bit, and it turns out he is of little faith. The next week a woman discusses table scraps, crumbs, and dogs. It turns out she has great faith. All of this is amazing and the opportunities for wonderful sermons abound. Good luck my fellow preachers!

However, the part that always gets me is Jesus and his interactions with the crowds. In the Matthew reading for the third Sunday, Jesus called the crowd to himself. But from what I can tell, most of the time he’s doing the opposite. Most of the time, it seems, he is trying to get away from the crowds for some good alone time. This is how Matthew’s reading in the first week of the month puts it: “…he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself.”

I know the feeling. In fact, I know that feeling more than I would like to admit. Don’t get me wrong. I love Sunday morning crowds. Few things are as energizing as God’s people gathered together. Yet, there are many times, if I’m being honest, like Jesus, I would like to get into a boat and withdraw to a place all by myself. Some peace and quiet sounds good. I live in a town full of tourists. Sometimes the crowds can be a bit much.

I have a friend who pastors a church in Pennsylvania and he once told me about the time he went to a local park for some alone time and to unwind. While at the park my friend sat on a bench near a pond. He had some bread with him and began to feed a few of the birds who were gathered there. The more he fed them the more they came. After a while he ran out of bread but the birds kept coming. He said, “Isn’t that like ministry? You can give and give until you are all out, but they just keep coming.”

They just keep coming and there is never enough. Deep within my heart of hearts, I disagree because I fundamentally believe there is enough, in fact, I believe there is an abundance of resources to help those who need it. Cue this month’s “Feeding of the 5,000” story. But my heart also knows what my friend means. It can easily feel like there is never enough and I am depleted. I am often overscheduled and tired. Pastoring through the pandemic has taken more out of me than I sometimes realize. Or sometimes it feels like I just need to get away from the relentless needs that keep coming. With a vocation that requires me to quickly swing from a conversation about replacing an elevator to one about a death in the congregation to one about the budget to one about finding ushers for Sunday, it can be draining. Even at home with a spouse, three kids, two cats, and a dog, there are plenty of times when I just want to get away to some quiet. Our house is loud.

August finds us 75% of the way through the year, so we have done much already. I am willing to bet you deserve a little bit of a break by now. I hope you get it. It is also summer, a time when the rhythm of the year invites us to pause and to get away. Perhaps it is a vacation out of town or a staycation at home that awaits you. Maybe it is even just permission to not have as many night meetings during the week. Summer is is the time when we can hopefully withdraw from the fullness of our calendars, before the program year starts up again next month.

In the passage I mentioned earlier, when Jesus is wanting to get away, is on the heels of the death of John the Baptist. That’s why Jesus wants some space. He’s grieving. I wonder what might be nudging you to get away at times. But as we can see, even though Jesus gets away, the crowds find him anyway. The crowds keep coming. In this case they come because they have heard the news about John too. And we can assume they are upset as well.

This is the part that always amazes me because I know how I can get when I need a break and when I need to step away for a bit. This is the part that reminds me that Jesus can do things that I often struggle with. In the midst of all that is going on, and with his plan to get away suddenly interrupted, and in the context of his own grief, Jesus does something so stunningly beautiful that I can only describe it as amazing. Jesus shows them compassion. But he doesn’t just show compassion, he does something about it. He still heals them. He still provides for them. And there is enough for them to be satisfied. In fact, there is more than enough. Like my friend on the park bench with the bread and the birds, they kept coming, but this time there is plenty to go around.

Jesus showed them compassion. This is my prayer for each one of us. That we would be recipients of that compassion too. Many of us in helping professions get into this work because we like helping people. Perhaps we can show compassion for ourselves too and take the time away for quiet and whatever we need. Then we may be healed. Then we may be fed.

Whenever I do go away and claim that space, it is always humbling to come back and realize that God’s people have carried on without me. The building is still standing. The people are still loved. The world continues to spin even when I am away with my emails set to “out of office.” After all, if the gates of Hades won’t prevail against the church, I doubt my little vacation time away will destroy it either.

So, for this summer season, this August, and everything after, may you continue to show compassion to those you encounter, and may you show compassion to yourself too. For then you may just find the peace you are looking for.