Economies of Grace

One of the things I enjoy about the summer months is the opportunity to spend time watching 
sport: whether it’s Wimbledon, the World Cup, the Commonwealth Games, or the plethora 
of other sporting events taking place. I appreciate both the live and unpredictable nature of 
sport, and I also admire the skill and camaraderie of the players and athletes. I realise that 
watching or playing sport may not be for everyone; but I was interested to discover that Pope 
Leo has a fondness for sport – both watching and playing – and so it was perhaps not surprising 
that one of his official prayer intentions for the summer months focused on the value of sport 
in fostering dialogue and cooperation between cultures and nations, and on sport as a space 
of encounter, joy, and humility. 

This was a timely prayer intervention, because it has long been noted that professional sport 
has become more aligned to the norms of the market than the norms and values Pope Leo 
identifies—with profit, advertising and commercial incentives pushing out these more 
egalitarian values of respect and solidarity. This is part of the reality in living in a world 
dominated by consumer values; but this week’s successful rebellion against football’s world 
governing body FIFA revealed that market norms can go too far, and that the essence of sport 
is not profit or private investment but rather a shared appreciation of human skill, effort, 
friendship and teamwork. These are universal ideals that can be applied both on and off the 
pitch: about the joy of being part of a team and realising that we need others to help us learn 
and grow. We recognise I think that something is lost when we monetise a universal human 
experience. I am reminded of Oscar Wilde’s famous observation about people who know the 
price of everything and the value of nothing. 

This tension between what we might call an economy of greed and an economy of grace is 
nothing new. In fact, it was reflecting on this morning’s readings that first made me think of 
it. Our reading from Isaiah was likely written during the exilic period, offering words of hope 
and consolation to the returning exiles. Some commentators point out that Babylon had been 
a place of wealth and over-consumption; a place in which the consumerist gods of greed and 
the marketplace had taken centre stage, and in which political oppression had made religious 
expression difficult if not impossible. Set against this backdrop, the divine voice speaks 
through a market vendor with a call to attention: ‘listen that you may live’. The call is an 
invitation to reflect on how our energies and resources are spent: ‘why do you spend your 
money for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which does not satisfy?’. The 
constant drive to consume and spend more leaves us empty and unsatisfied. The prophet 
invites us to spend resources and energy on what really matters. In this marketplace, the usual 
norms of commerce are overturned—water, bread, wine, and rich food are all provided 
without money and without price; and those with and those without money are invited to sit 
together and worship the same God who created them and calls them into relationship: ‘I will 
make with you an everlasting covenant’. Contrary to an economic model based on 
competition, zero sum game, exclusion and inequality; this economy of grace extends to all: 
‘Ho, everyone who thirsts, come’.

It is with this backdrop in mind that we can turn to our gospel reading – probably one of the 
most famous scenes in scripture, and the only miracle to be recorded in all four gospels. If our 
reading from Isaiah depicts the kingdom of God as a banquet table to which all are invited,
and a desire to break down the barriers of wealth and inequality and scarcity that divide us 
from one another, we see the practical and ethical implications of this economic ideal played 
out in this story. The miracle is rooted in compassion and prayer, reminding us that miracles 
are not flashy displays of divine power but signs of the kingdom of God. Jesus retreats to a 
quiet and deserted place. We might recall the story of his temptation in the desert when he 
refuses to turn stones into bread to satisfy his hunger. This time, it is the hunger of others and 
his compassion for their needs which drives him to act. Rather than declaring his autonomy 
or independence from God – which is one of the temptations he faces in the desert – he 
demonstrates his complete dependence on God in prayer: looking up to heaven in faith and 
humility; and blessing the loaves and fish as an expression of praise and gratitude. 
In contrast to an economic model based on individualism and autonomy, an economy of grace 
is about dependence: both on God and, crucially, on one another. In some Bibles this miracle 
is often entitled: ‘Jesus feeds the five thousand’. But in fact, it is the disciples, not Jesus, who 
do the feeding. Initially they say: ‘send the crowds away’. There is too much unmet need here, 
send them away. I think most of us can feel that way sometimes in the face of large-scale 
human need. But Jesus transforms their fatigue and anxiety through the power of his 
compassion and his prayer. We see that God does not work alone but through human acts of 
love and compassion; and the miracle provides hope that the scarcest resources or the 
greatest of needs are no barrier to God’s healing and compassionate love. Sometimes our
actions can seem very small in the face of large-scale need; but they can still have a great 
impact. No wonder Jesus used images like the mustard seed or leaven to describe the Kingdom 
of God. As Archbishop Michael Ramsey once put it: ‘the glory of Christianity is the claim that 
small things really matter’. 

‘Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which 
does not satisfy?’. The silver lining of living in a world dominated by consumer values is that 
many of us do a have great amount of choice over how we spend our time and our resources. 
Rather than turning to a news feed or a social media account; we could turn our attention to 
our neighbours and their needs; or a charity or organisation that supports the homeless or 
the hungry. Rather than constantly checking our notifications or inbox, we could check-in 
more with God in prayer. And the more we do this, the more we may learn that it is exactly 
this kind of living – with God and with and for one another – that we have been created for. 
As the prophet says: ‘listen, so that you may live’.