To Become Myself Preached on February 25th, 2018 At Wollaston Congregational Church Scripture: Mark 8:31-38 The Messianic secret is out. Until this stage in the gospel of Mark, Jesus’ identity – Jesus’ true selfhood – has been kept a secret. Up until now, the disciples have been accompanying Jesus about the countryside, watching him teach and heal. The blind have had their sight restored, the crowds have been fed to bursting with a few loaves and fishes. It’s been exhilarating, riding on the heels of this super star preacher. Peter and the gang can hardly wait to see what it going to happen next. Finally Jesus asks in a private conversation “who do you say that I am?” And scarcely able to breathe, he has been holding onto this hope for so long, Peter blurts out “You are the Messiah.” But the 12 are warned not to tell anyone. The passage we read today follows on immediately after this revelation. But in my mind, I imagine a dramatic pause. This is a cliff-hanger for the disciples, as they bed down for the night, on the outskirts of the Roman city, Caesarea Philippi. The traditional expectations for the Messiah include Kingship, power, might and victory. Looking down on the city, perhaps Peter’s mind plays with images of overthrowing the occupation, led by the newly revealed Messiah. But, this is not to be. The stark reality of Jesus’ identity becomes apparent as the story continues. Now the secret is out, Jesus begins to talk openly. The Son of Man, as Jesus calls himself, must undergo great suffering, be rejected by the religious authorities and be killed. No! This is not Peter’s vision for the mission. This cannot happen. He will not let Jesus do this to himself. Peter actually takes Jesus on one side and rebukes him. There is a harsh exchange of words, as Jesus rebukes Peter, saying “get behind me Satan!” Peter’s resistance to Jesus’ suffering and death puts him in league with the tempter. Jesus is going to have no part of this. Now Jesus follows with some sobering teaching. Whoever wants to be a follower must take up their cross. Those who call themselves Christian must lose their lives for the sake of the Gospel. There is not much time to spare. Rumors are traveling through the countryside to Jerusalem, telling of Jesus’ activities and popularity. Rome is beginning to suspect insurrection. Soon it will be time to take his place on the cross. In spite of Peter’s objections, Jesus knows who he is, he knows whose he is, and so he knows what he must do. But what about Peter and the others, and what about us? How can we know who we are, so that we will also know what we must do? One of the most common interpretations of this teaching is that Jesus means that we are to neglect our own selves in order to follow him. For many years, this was my understanding of this teaching. My desire was to be a follower of Jesus. I’d tried to take this to its logical conclusion and sacrifice my own goals for those of others. During my first year in college I did well academically. I devoted a lot of time and energy to my homework, as all engineering students need to do. My friends were made through the Christian organization on campus and also through the church I attended. Going into my second year in college, though, I found lodgings with Bill and Sarah, a local couple who lived near campus. They did not need the income from renting their spare bedroom. Their motivation for taking in a student was to provide company for Sarah who spent her days in the confines of the home. She did not drive. Her only outings were with Bill on weekend. She was terribly lonely. It turned out that this young woman was dealing with a number of debilitating physical and psychological illnesses, including agoraphobia. Bill had taken to spending evenings in the local pub, and so Sarah and I often watched TV together. As I learned more about Sarah’s suffering I was determined to do something about it. Never mind that I was supposed to be studying for a degree, surely this was more important. At the same time, I had become fascinated by the claims of the charismatic revival at that time in Christian circles. I had begun visiting churches in the area where the Spirit was said to be at work. When I learned about the miraculous healings in these places, my “Messiah complex” kicked in. Surely I could save Sarah from her suffering by getting her to one of these churches. Letting my grades suffer was my sacrifice for what I hoped would be the saving of Sarah. I don’t need to tell you that the plan did not work out. Sarah was a grown woman with a mind of her own. The hopes I had to get her to a charismatic worship service didn’t happen. I had already given what she needed from me, simple companionship. But my preoccupations had taken me away from my homework and my grades did suffer. My advisor was puzzled by my explanation that I had been over-involved in church and my landlord’s health. “Hmm, well we didn’t think you were the type to be out partying too much. But time to get back on track don’t you think?” he said. In the book “Let Your Life Speak”, Parker Palmer talks about “listening for the voice of vocation.” [1] Palmer rejects the church’s traditional idea of vocation “as a deep distrust of selfhood … the belief that the sinful self will always be ‘selfish’ unless corrected by external forces of virtue.” As a young man, this notion made him feel inadequate, but over his lifetime he has come to see vocation as a “gift to be received”, rather “a voice from out there.” Vocation is the acceptance of the treasure of true self. Could this be what Jesus means when he says we are to deny ourselves and take up our cross to follow him? At first look, there may seem to be a conflict between what Jesus taught and what Palmer writes. But, I think this is because the word “self” is being used for two different meanings. In the human psyche there are two selves. The lower case “s” self is the ego-centered go-it-alone self. This self is greedy for what it can get. It tries to live either independently of others or co-dependently on others. It either denies the human need for relationship or lives parasitically off of others and their needs. This self can masquerade as virtue. It loves to be thought of as sacrificial. This self loves taking upon the struggles of others and speaking in the other’s voice. It is Peter’s lower case ‘s’ self that rebukes Jesus for talking of suffering and death. Peter’s self wants to be in control, to have the victory of his messianic expectations. Uppercase “S” Self, on the other hand, is the true and God-created self. This Self emerges as a person matures in a healthy way. It is a discovered Self that seeks out healthy, interdependent relationships with God and others. It does not need to struggle to separate, or feed off another’s resources. The mystic, Thomas Merton called this Self the “true self”, Palmer writes. It is known as the “image of God” in the scriptures, Quakers refer to the “inner light” and humanists describe it as identity or integrity. Jesus was clear about his identity as the Messiah, as has just been revealed. But now, he turns to the disciples, and Peter in particular, to take on their given identity. Peter will be forced to give up on his expectations of Messiah, but then he will need to learn who he really is. His vocation is not to talk Jesus out of his suffering. His vocation will be to grow into himself so that he will become a leader and teacher when Jesus is gone. Do you remember watching your child, or grandchild, niece or nephew discover their gifts? Perhaps they loved to help you mix the batter for a cake, or make dramatic brush strokes across the paper as they painted. Perhaps they loved to help with “gardening”, stirring mud and pulling out shoots whether or not they are weeds. Or perhaps they liked to make beds and houses for their toys, or pound on the piano or the drum. What did your emerging self look like when you were a child? Did you live into that Self, and with it your vocation? Or do you feel that you were pushed and molded into what others expected from you? It’s never too late to discover vocation, and live more fully into the identity God created. In fact I would say that it is possible to continue growing into our authentic selves and discovering treasured gifts our whole life long. Palmer writes of Rosa Parks, who decided to honor her authentic self by sitting in the front of the bus one day. It’s said that when asked why she did it, she replied “I sat down because I was tired.” She was tired of playing by racist rules. Today we also heard the story of Fannie Lou Hamer and her famous proclamation that she was “sick and tired of being sick and tired.” Fannie Lou Hamer’s vocation also grew out of a need to honor her God-created self. We may not have vocations that will become as notable as Rosa Parks’ or Fannie Lou Hamer’s, but we are all required to honor our God created selves. Parker Palmer describes a long a painful pilgrimage toward discovering his own true self, and in that discovery find his true vocation. For some, the road may be smoother, but as Palmer has written, our failure and mistakes can tell us as much as our supposed successes. In my own journey, I needed to complete my engineering degree and continue for many years in that same field, on my journey to rediscovering my true self. I left my lodgings with Sarah and Bill, and I was sad that Sarah did not keep up correspondence for very long. It was a relationship that I had to let go. I couldn’t save it. Peter cannot save Jesus, instead it is Jesus who saves Peter, and us all of course. We cannot tell Jesus, or anyone else, who they ought to be. But, if we are ready to lay down our expectations at the foot of the cross, we might well discover who we truly are. May all God people say, Amen [1] Parker J. Palmer, “Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation”, (San Francisco, Jossey-Bass books, 2000)
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Not a Week for Myths and Happy Endings Preached at Wollaston Congregational Church On February 18th, 2018 Scripture: Genesis 9:8-17 Let me ask you a question: when did you first hear the story of Noah’s Ark? As an infant, toddler, or kindergartner, I’m guessing. Noah and his ark appear in children’s bibles and popup books in our household. It’s often the very first Bible story a child hears, perhaps because of the parade of animals, the brightness of the rainbow, the gentleness of the dove. Murals on Sunday School classrooms and nursery walls feature the scene. One method of introducing children to Bible stories tells children that God warned Noah “there was going to be a flood”, and that he must act swiftly. Good Noah is tasked with protecting his family from the storm and saving all species of animals from extinction. After the storm, God promises never to flood the world again, the family and the animals get off the ark and begin to populate the freshly washed earth. I have an English friend whose son saw right through this version of the story. The vicar of the local parish church came to his school and told the story of Noah. But my friend’s son had not been de-sensitized to the implications of the story of the flood. The family had not exposed him to the board books and toys some of us had in childhood. And so, at around the age of 10 he heard the about Noah for the first time and he heard it exactly as it was. He was traumatized and later he asked his mother … why would God ever drown all the people, all the animals, all the children and babies? Why would God ever do a thing like that? The story of the flood is a dark story indeed. Yet, we have transformed it. As humans often do, we have taken the violence and devastation and made it a myth with a tidy: problem – solution - happy ending structure. But, this week is not a week for myths and happy endings. It began on Wednesday, which was already a weird myth versus reality kind of day as St. Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday coincided. That morning Pr. Alissa, Harvard Divinity School student Samm and I stood outside Quincy North T station. Our thumbs and fingers were stained with the dark ashes we had made from burning palms on Tuesday evening. Many commuters came to us to receive the ashes, and we marked the sign of the cross on their forehead. We were reminded that the composition of our bodies came from nothing more that dust and ashes, and that finally that is where we’ll return. Some commuters had already received their ash crosses in church. And others did not want ashes, but were curious about what we were doing and took away information. In parallel with this event, lovers, friends, parents and children had exchanged cards and candies that morning, celebrating the ideal of human love, harmony and peace. And then went on their ways to work and school. But, this week is not a week for myths and happy endings. The myth of human love and harmony came crashing down, later that day. Students at Marjory Stoneham Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, had perhaps exchanged valentines with sweethearts for the first time. But their world was turned upside down, as they were terrorized by a severely disturbed former student with a history aggressive behavior. This student brought his legally obtained AR-15 rifle to the school and killed 17 students, teachers and staff. Perhaps you saw the picture of the anguished mother waiting outside the school for news, an ash cross on her forehead. Too many young people returned to dust much too soon on Wednesday. No, this week is not a week for myths and happy endings. So, let us return to the Noah story this week and remove our mythic filters. This is primordial story, a tale that had risen up among Iron Age people, originating in oral tradition. The various strands of the story, which sometimes contradict and diverge, were put together as one after the Babylonian conquest of Jerusalem in 586-587 BCE. God appears to the ancient people as a human-like figure. But unlike the gods of ancient mythologies in the opposing cultures, the God of Israel is profoundly involved in the created world. God is understood as creator and judge with a full range of human emotions. And God is angry, very angry with the state of affairs. Within a short span since the creation of the ideal conditions of Eden, things have gone badly wrong. First the man and the woman ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. They were expelled from the garden and they had two sons Cain and Abel. Cain killed his brother Abel. Then this act of violence was repeated and amplified by others. In each generation violence is met with violence, revenge becomes the way of the world, and the whole creation descends into chaos. As the story tells us, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great in the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of their hearts was on evil continually. And the Lord was sorry that he had made humankind on the earth and it grieved him to his heart.” The ancients had not yet had the time to develop their understanding of God, beyond vengeful creator in the sky. They exist in a dualistic system of reward and punishment. The world has sinned, and God needs to punish the world. But first, in this black-and-white scheme God looks for a “righteous” man to preserve creation. Noah is the choice, his family are the only ones who have not succumbed to wickedness. Everyone else will be destroyed. There isn’t much to redeem the story at this point. Noah and his family build the ark as specified and load up the menagerie. They are to spend a terrifying 40 days and 40 nights as storms rage. They enter into a liminal space, like the chaos from which the world was first created. They, and their floating zoo are the only living creatures that remain. They are utterly dependent on the mercy of the waters and can only trust that God will return them safely to dry land. The story so far is characteristic of the ancient understanding of God as omnipotent and omniscient. God is assumed to be all powerful and all knowing. But, today we read the tail end of the story, the part that may well have been called the epilogue. Yet I think it is the most significant part. In this tail end, God grieves for the destruction that God has brought upon creation. God establishes a covenant – a promise – never again to destroy the earth with flooding. And, most significant of all, at this moment God lays down his weapon, the bow, which now becomes a multicolored sign in the sky. This is a unilateral act of peace, with no equivalent act required on the part of humanity. This was the sign that God was deeply entrenched in the world, and with humanity. But it was only the first sign. There are several other covenants to assure the people of God’s commitment to them and continued presence. Later, in the Christian story, Jesus comes to live out this covenant. Even since the flood, humanity had not recovered from it’s insistence of meeting violence with violence. Instead of ending the violence, they’ve come up with a complex mythical scheme of scapegoating and sacrifice. They think this will appease God. The prophets insist that God desires mercy, not sacrifice, but they do not listen. So in Jesus, God finally consummates the covenant made in those primordial times. Jesus becomes the sacrifice, and again God lays down the bow and God takes the punishment. As Mark Heim writes in the book “Saved from Sacrifice”, “Jesus death saves the world, and it ought not happen.” [1] As I said, this week is not a week for myths and happy endings. This week, the usually omnipotent and omniscient newscasters broke down in tears as they reported on the events in Parkland. In an interview with Wolf Blitzer, Philip Mudd, a former FBI analyst wept as he said, “A child of God is dead. Can not we in this country acknowledge that we cannot accept this?” Then he said “I can’t do this, Wolf. I’m sorry, I can’t do it.” [2] We depend upon reporters to be stoic. But this show of vulnerability may be just what we need. Perhaps the paralysis that has afflicted this nation since the shooting in Middletown CT on December 14th, 2014, is finally breaking. Since the days of the flood, of course, our violence and vengefulness, has become more subtle and sophisticated. In many places the values of community and family have broken down. Schools are woefully underfunded in the neediest places. Teachers are expected to fulfill the roles of social workers and therapists as well as meeting the demands of the curriculum. And now, some are calling for them to add the responsibilities of armed security guards. Many children are learning the values of hate and entitlement from the rhetoric around them, when empathy is what is needed. And young boys, especially, are schooled by the internet in weapons and violent pornography, when they could be learning about respect of self and others. Instead of paying attention, we adults just argue. Mental health or guns? Which is to blame? And then we doing nothing about either one. It’s going to be a hard 40 days, this Lent. And I have a feeling God’s response will be the same as before. Grieving, weeping, laying down weapons. Jesus will take his place on the cross. This year, again. And the next year, the same. And again and again and again until we come to our sanity. No, this week is not a week for myths and happy endings. [1] S. Mark Heim, Saved from Sacrifice: a theology of the cross, (William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan, 2006), 108 [2] http://people.com/crime/former-fbi-agent-philip-mudd-sobs-cnn-florida-school-shooting/ Ash Wednesday Sermon 2018 Preached at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church On February 14th, 2018 Today, in a strange confluence of events, Ash Wednesday falls on St. Valentine’s Day. In case you are wondering, 1945 was the last occurrence of this coincidence … quite a while ago. The two dates also overlapped in 1923 and 1934 and will coincide again in 2024 and 2029. And so this unusual coincidence had me wondering … who will show up for Ash Wednesday evening worship? Maybe those who don’t have a date? And … who will wear their penitential ashes, received earlier in the day, on a Valentine’s date? Don’t get me wrong, I love the Valentine’s Day holiday. It’s a great time to celebrate romantic love. A time for long-time couples to re-kindle the romantic glow, and for those on-the-brink to ask out a new date, or just a day to send a sweet card to someone who needs some loving. Typically, the Valentine’s Day celebration focuses on the ideals of love. Even now as think back to some of the cards I sent in my younger years, I blush. Commercial cards highlight the very happiest memories of the relationship, it’s a day to extoll the loved ones’ virtues. It’s a day to view ones lover by the light of the moon, to gaze up into the sky, count the stars, to celebrate the very best of human love. Valentine’s Day is a mythic observance, with all the expectations of happily ever after. Ash Wednesday on the other hand, is the other side of the coin. It’s a day to confess our sins. A day to look in the mirror in stark light of day, and be honest about what we have done. It’s a day to be grounded in our mortality. A day to remember that the composition of our bodies came from nothing more that dust and ashes, and that finally that is where we’ll return. It’s a day to get down to earth, not up in the sky. It’s not in the least mythic. You might say that Ash Wednesday is a parabolic observance … by parabolic, I mean contradictory. On Ash Wednesday, we remember that we are dust … literally bringing ourselves down to earth, so that we can fully appreciate the great mercy and love of God. And yet, even while Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday are seemingly opposite there is one common ingredient: hearts. Valentine’s Day and hearts are inseparable, of course. My earliest memories of the day come from elementary school, cutting out that symmetrical shape from folded red construction paper to be embellished with glue and glitter for my mom. There are the classic Valentines box of chocolates, heart-shaped, of course. And the sweetheart candies, with cutesy messages, that are slipped into elementary school lockers. This morning, Pastor Alissa, Samm and I might have been tempted to make the shape of a heart with the ashes we imposed on commuters’ foreheads down at the T station. But we resisted temptation, and continued to use the tradition sign of the cross. Ash Wednesday refers to the symbol of the heart, but in a different way from Valentine’s Day. You may have noticed it in the Bible readings we heard tonight. In our Old Testament reading, the prophet Joel tells the people of Judah that God desires their broken and contrite hearts. God calls them to return to God, with their whole hearts: fasting, weeping and mourning. According to Joel, the people have experienced terrible devastation, from the armies of the empires that surround them. The prophet calls the people to repentance, although he does not specify what sin it is that they are to repent from. A clue to their sin might be found by looking ahead in the short book of Joel. In chapter 2 there is another famous passage, which is quoted in the book of Acts, when the gift of the Holy Spirit comes. Joel says that “in those days” God will pour out God’s Spirit on all flesh: sons and daughters, old men, young men, male and female slaves. These are groups that would fall into “us and them” categories for Joel’s audience. People of the “other” group are the people who often become the scapegoat. In our culture that might mean immigrants, Muslims, homeless people, or people of different gender identities or sexual orientations from what is assumed to be the norm. Joel looks forward to the Day of the Lord. It is a day when there will be no more “us and them” distinctions, when the Spirit is poured out on all of humanity. And so, we can be assured that this prophet cares most about relationships. Certainly the relationship between the people and God is of concern, but so is the people’s relationship with one another and with the rest of humanity. Although the Day of the Lord sounds quite terrible for the disobedient Judahites, Joel calls on them to return to God with their whole hearts. He assures them that God’s response will be forgiveness. God’s concern is not for outward displays of repentance. God’s concern is for a changed, or broken, heart. God’s concern is for a heart that is broken open to relationship, not only with one special person, but with those we think of as “the other.” If I dig deep tonight, I know that I am not living in right relationship with God and with others. Can I honestly say that I do not get irritated with the driver who seems not to understand the rules of the road, and then glance quickly, noticing their ethnicity as I pass them? Can I say that I do not think uncharitable thoughts about the person squeezed next to me on the subway whose dining choices bring about a certain odor, or that I do not avoid the lurching person I follow on the street who looks a little shifty and might hit me up for some cash? There is a gap between us and our fellow human beings, says writer Parker Palmer. This gap is between what is and what could be in our relationship with the rest of humanity. And the stress of holding that gap can break our hearts. Do you feel heartbroken about a friend or relative you can no longer talk to, because our political views have become so polarized these days? Or, perhaps, you are heartbroken because have had to end an abusive relationship, or maybe you are broken hearted because you have refused to see a loved one until they seek help for an addiction. Palmer sees two ways for the heart to break in these situations. One way is for the heart to splinter into a thousand shards … to “become shrapnel aimed at the source of our pain.” In this case the heartbreak is an “unresolved wound [carried] around … as the heart broken one tries to resolve the pain by inflicting the same wound on others.” In the second way, the heart can be imagined as “a small clenched fist.” In this case, the heart can be “broken open … into a greater capacity to hold one’s own and the world’s pain.” This kind of heartbreak can increase our empathy for others and it can lead to acts of compassion and reconciliation, rather than revenge. Palmer quotes the Sufi master, Hazrat Inayat Khan, who says “God breaks the heart again and again and again, until it stays open.” I believe that this it is this kind of broken heart that God desires of us. Even in Ash Wednesday thinking, the heart symbolizes love. But it is a deeper, real-life kind of love, than romantic love. It is the kind of love that’s hard … the exhausting love of a parent for a colicky, sleepless baby … the tough love of the one who refuses to be an enabler for an addicted person … the aching love of the spouse of one whose mind has be taken by dementia. Palmer sees the broken-open heart in the image of the cross. He says that on the cross, God’s heart “was broken open for the sake of humankind … into a love that Christ’s followers are called to emulate.” The cross reaches in four directions … left and right, up and down. But the arms converge in a center, in a heart, that can be pulled open … by the tensions of life . Palmer sees this as God’s heart: “a heart that can be opened so fully it can hold everything ... that … is how Jesus held his excruciating experience [on the cross] …. as an opening into the heart of God.” [1] Romantic lovers may well exchange hearts, chocolates and flowers this evening. They will enjoy dreaming of the ideals of love, and happy endings. We all need a little myth in our lives sometimes. But, you and I … we have chosen to take the contradictory path … the path of broken heartedness in order to become whole … whole in our love for all people and in our love for God. And so, we’ll receive our ashes, not in the Valentine’s heart shape, but still the shape of love: the love of our broken hearted God for our broken hearted world. Let all God’s people say, Amen [1] http://www.couragerenewal.org/PDFs/Parker-Palmer_politicsbrokenhearted.pdf Simon’s Mother in Law Has a Name Preached at the Wollaston Congregational Church On February 4th, 2018 Scripture: Mark 1:29-39 Today we continued reading from the first chapter of Mark’s gospel. It’s a story line we have been following for the past few weeks. The passage we heard just now is perfect for today, the day we commission two new deacons and a new steward for our church, because this is the story of the one who is known as the first deacon. Sadly we do not know her name. We heard that Jesus left the synagogue in Capernaum and went immediately to the house of brothers Simon and Andrew. You may know Simon better as Peter, or perhaps Simon Peter. If we look ahead in the gospel to chapter 3, we’ll read that Jesus gave Simon the name Peter. Perhaps you remember the disciple Peter from some of the other stories. He is impetuous, boisterous, often at odds with Jesus. Now, I could continue this whole sermon referring to the woman who is healed as “Simon’s mother-in-law.” But, as you may know, my husband’s name is Simon. And so, you know, my own mom could be called “Simon’s mother in law.” And yet my mom does have a name, it is Margaret. And so, I intend to give Simon’s mother in law a name, let’s say Meira, as we turn back to the story. The house has been quiet with the young men away. It’s not unusual for them to take off on a lengthy fishing trip, spending a few days down by the shore. The women would not normally be anxious. Meira’s daughters and daughter’s in law, have been in and out, their babies on their hips. They’ve brought the water, and done the chores. There hasn’t been much need for the cooking with the men gone. They’ve checked often on Meira lying silently on the palette. They press a damp rag to her forehead each time they check in. She’s had this fever for a few days now and she doesn’t seem to be shaking it. They’ve never seen her this way before. And they wonder if they can get word to the men. Could they search for the new healer they’ve been hearing about and bring him to the house? Finally they leave Meira to the cool and quiet of the home as they set out to find the guys. While the women are gone looking the two brothers, Simon and Andrew, burst into the house. They’ve been gone a few days, following this amazing new preacher and miracle healer, Jesus. It’s not unusual for them to bring home new friends and travelers they’ve met along the way. They know there will be a warm welcome awaiting any friends they make. Meira keeps a pot simmering on the stove, ready for dinner, and the extra servings they will need for the folks the guys bring home. Meira excels in hospitality, she keeps an open house and she’s always ready for company. Today, they stumble into the little stone dwelling, ravenous, talking up Meira’s cooking to James and John. And they call out to the women “you won’t believe it! We’ve brought the new preacher, Jesus!” It takes a few minutes for the scene to sink in for them. Something is different. What has happened while they have been gone? The kitchen feels cold and empty, there’s a little dust gathering on the table top. What has happened to Meira? Simon finally turns, and sees her on the palette in the corner, softly moaning. She is obviously very sick. How can this be? Jesus, the great healer and preacher is here, and there are mouths to be fed and guests to entertain? Simon turns to Jesus, but of course, he is already at Meira’s side. He takes her hand, praying quietly with her. Then he lifts her, up and she shudders and then smiles. “Is it the Sabbath sundown already? You all must be hungry!” She exclaims and “who is this wonderful young man you have brought home? What was I thinking, just look at this kitchen! Let me get supper going right away.” Praise God! She has been restored, back to herself and ready to do her work. Once the family and their guests are filled with Meira’s delicious cooking, people begin to arrive at the house from round about. Some are sick, some possessed by demons. It seems like the whole city is there! Jesus heals them all. It’s an exhausting end to and exhausting day of connecting with folks, hearing their needs, blessing them with God’s love, seeing them restored. Simon goes to sleep that night dreaming of how things will work out with Jesus. What an opportunity, to have this amazing guy choose him and Andrew, James and John to follow him. What an honor! Meanwhile, Meira and the younger women have labored long into the evening. When the men were finally satisfied with food and drink they swept the kitchen clean, settled the children and went to bed themselves. As Meira lies down again, her thoughts return to the day. What a wonderful opportunity to serve this travel weary young man who has the gift of healing. What a moment it was as he prayed with her, commissioning her to God’s service. She hopes that Simon won’t get ahead of himself with this Jesus. She loves Simon as her own, and yet she knows how impetuous he can get, how he loves to act, often before he has thought things through. She hopes he’ll finally pause to listen to what Jesus has to say. She hopes he’ll let Jesus rest tonight. Jesus wakes well before dawn, and while the others are sleeping, he slips away to a deserted place. He needs to listen to what God is calling him to do. He needs to separate from the noise and clamor of the sick of Capernaum and the pressing demands of the disciples’ enthusiasm. He needs to listen to God his Father. It doesn’t last long though, as Simon and the others burst onto the scene. “Where were you, everyone is looking for you … there’s healing to be done!” But he replies “I have a message, and I have to proclaim it throughout the towns. I’m moving on … are you coming?” And so the overture to Mark’s gospel ends, or almost ends … there is one more miracle story to go. This is how it is going to be for the rest of the story. Jesus will travel, preaching and healing bringing the good news. He will touch lives, and commission those whose names we do not know. Simon, who will be Peter, will continue to be impetuous and go head-to-head with Jesus. The other disciples will continue not to get Jesus. And still their names will be in the gospel. But today our focus is not so much on those whose names we know and their misconceptions. Our focus is directed to Meira, whose name we do not really know. Just as Meira served Jesus, I’m reminded that so often we are served by those whose name we don’t know. We don’t know the names of those who scrub the restrooms we use when we’re out and about, or those who sweat in the kitchens of our favorite restaurant, or those who pick the vegetables we eat, or care for the personal needs of our elders. This thought brings to mind something I experienced when I worked, as a chaplain intern, at an eldercare facility. The chaplain’s office offers a service for the employees called the “tea cart”. Chaplains bring the cart around to the units loaded with tea, coffee, pastries and other goodies for the staff. Toward the end of my internship I signed up to do this service with another student. We went around offering the nurses and aides a hot drink, a snack, and also a “blessing of the hands”. Some of the staff were reluctant to participate. A hands-on blessing sounded a little too much for them. But others came willingly. I took their hands in mine, first of all naming that employee before God, blessing their hands for the ministering work I knew they would be doing. We’d finished providing our services for the staff who had come forward, but we still had loads of goodies. I realized that some people were missing. I went to look for the housekeeping staff. These were quiet people, mostly immigrants from Haiti. I’d seen them around doing the daily chores as well as cleaning up spills of food, drink and bodily fluids. I used to say “good morning” and “good night” but I realized on that day we’d never had a conversation. I didn’t know their names. When I went up to the men and women on duty I realized that they spoke very little English. It was easy to communicate the offer of food and blessing, though. They were hungry for both. I had to reach for their id tags so that I could pray for each by name for the first time. As I did tears welled in their eyes. “Amen” they echoed after me, adding their own prayer in Haitian Creole. I have come to think of moments like the one I had at the rehab as Jesus-y moments. Times when my focus is taken off what I think of as important, toward what Jesus would have me see. That day in the rehab, my focus was shifted from the importance of my role, to see Jesus lifting up the quiet Haitian housekeeping staff. I believe that in our story today, Jesus would have us change our focus from bluster and self-importance of Simon and the other guys to the perspective of Meira and the women. Today I believe that we are invited to be as Meira, receiving healing, deeply listening, privately praying. And we will know Jesus by our side, taking our hand, lifting us up, commissioning us to God’s work and service. Emily, Rhea, Becky, you have been commissioned today to serve in our church. Emily and Rhea will be serving as Deacons, graciously welcoming members and guests at the door, lighting the candles, preparing the table for communion, and serving the bread and the cup to the congregation. Becky, who already has a wonderful ministry of hospitality, will join Mary Treacy in overseeing Worship and Education. I’m glad we know your names and can thank you for your service. And I’m glad I can trust that you too will know Jesus by your side, lifting you up, commissioning you to God’s work and service. May it be so. Amen |
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April 2022
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