Poor Jesus! He had healed Simon’s mother-in-law – I really don't like that she doesn't have a name so I’m going to call her ‘Betty’ – who was sick in bed with a fever, but after Jesus took Betty by the hand and lifted her up, her fever left her and Betty was able to return to her normal activities. Then, he just wanted to heal a few folk, cure a few others and then find some time to steal away by himself and pray. But it was not to happen.
Simon and a few others “hunted him,” scripture says – HUNTED him – and when they found him they said, “Everyone is searching for you.” And Jesus decided that the best way to handle all of that was to keep moving – stay focused on his vocation and mission and ministry – and to go “throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.”
Can anyone relate to that? No, I don’t mean performing miracles as your every day work or being swamped by adoring fans or needy people who want you to keep performing. I’m talking about trying to stay focused on the task at hand – even trying to steal away a little time to set the refresh button – but there were just too many distractions, too many people seeking you out – hunting you down – to find you?
Okay, maybe it wasn’t as dramatic as Mark portrays this situation but we all understand that sense of being harried and that sense of constant and continual demand. Sounds very much like my memories of young motherhood. Or the early days on a new job. Or, the days before Thanksgiving or the week before Christmas with the baking and the shopping and the wrapping.
I think what I love most about this passage from Mark is the ordinary humanness of it all. Yes, of course, Jesus was performing miracles of healing and curing but even in the midst of what is clearly his divine nature, he is still deeply human. And his response at the crossroads of his divinity and humanity is to stay focused on the work he is called to do.
A few weeks ago I told you that I would tell you about my Oprah story and how it was that Oprah helped me to learn something about leadership and kept me focused on my vocation as a priest in the midst of the multiple demands of the work of ordained ministry. Now seems a good time to tell that story.
So, I had been rector of a fairly large affluent suburban congregation in Northern NJ which had been in a prolonged interim period before they called me to lead them. The former Senior Warden had been a much-loved Mayor of the town and the Vestry was mostly men and a few women, all of whom were very successful in business: Banking, Real Estate, Insurance, Law Firms, Accountants, Chemists, etc., etc., etc., many of whom had also served on the Town Council.
The culture in that town in general and in that church in particular was to have Very Long Meetings where, rather than discussions being held, speeches were given. Some even qualified as bona fide soliloquies. In that culture, the standard seemed to be that the person who could hold the floor longest, won.
There were some occasions when the standard seemed to be that the person who spoke the loudest and the longest won, but mostly people talked at each other rather than to each other.
I recently saw an advertisement for a T-shirt that said, “I’m not being argumentative, I’m just trying to tell you that I’m right.” I could have made a lot of money selling those shirts in that town.
I had also noticed a pattern that the ‘rector’ seemed to be the replacement in those scenarios for the Mayor, who was either “Mr. Fix It” if the solution worked, or the scapegoat if it didn’t. I also noted that there had never been a woman who had been Mayor; neither had there been a woman to be Rector of the church. Except me.
Let the hearer (or reader) understand.
So, one particular Vestry meeting was consumed by a very controversial subject – a real hot topic – one that was certain to cause division and dissention in the community. No, it wasn’t the usual hot button topics like human sexuality or money. It was much more critical and controversial than that.
As I recall the topic du jour which threatened to tear the very fabric of that Christian community was this: to choose the exact color red to paint the new door to the church. We had established that the color needed to be red but not without covering some pretty controversial ground in the previous Vestry meeting.
One person thought the door ought to be blue because it was the color of the heavens, but that was quickly shot down by someone who asserted that it had to be red because – everybody knows, for goodness sake – that the color of The Episcopal church doors are always red. No one knew why, exactly.
Except one person seemed to remember that “Father” had once said in Confirmation Class that the doors were always red because it recalled the direction God gave to Moses while the Israelites were slaves in Egypt to have all the doors painted red so that the Plague would Passover.
They turned to ask “Ms. Fix It” – that would have been moi – if that were true. Well! I didn’t have a clue (I certainly didn’t learn that in seminary) but I finessed my way out of it by saying that tradition was central to the Episcopal way of life and tradition held that the doors to our churches are always red. It’s just tradition – the 8th Sacrament (Coffee Hour being the 9th)
We ended the Vestry meeting with my direction to drive around the various neighboring towns and check out the doors to other Episcopal churches and see if the tradition of the Red Door wasn't consistently applied in our neighboring churches.
Now that that problem had been settled handily we were on to the topic for THIS vestry meeting to determine the particular shade of red. Some said it needed to be the exact color of the Red Book of Common Prayer. Others said differently. One person came with one of those paint wheels from Sherman Williams with the various shades of red.
It was getting pretty hot in the room as speech after speech after soliloquy was given and we all had a bad case of MEGO (My Eyes Glass Over) and, right on cue, someone asked what I thought – the perfect set up to be either savior or scapegoat.
So, I did the sensible thing and asked for a 10 minute “biology break” during which I went into the bathroom and shot up a very quick prayer and asked for a word of knowledge. Just something to help me through this perilous plight.
And, just like that, the word came back. And the word was: Oprah.
Oprah? Oprah! Seriously? Oprah? Yes, Oprah.
And, just as I walked back into the Vestry room, I knew what to do. I found myself picking up my pencil like a microphone and I heard myself say, “Well, Mike thinks it ought to be this color red because it looks more like the color of the BCP, and John thinks it ought to be that color red because it looks more like dried blood.”
And then, turning to one of the Vestry men, one of the elders in the congregation who had previously seemed to be nodding off, I said, “Charlie, you are always very quiet but my experience is that it is the quiet ones who are always the deepest thinkers. What do you think, my friend?”
And, Charlie cleared his throat and rose to the occasion and delivered a brilliant soliloquy about using primer and then the first coat would be blood color red because it was more historical and that would draw out the colors of the topcoat which would be the color of the BCP.
I picked up my pen again and turned toward the former mayor and, just like Oprah, said, “Well, Jim, what do you think of what Charlie said?”
And, the former mayor, after a moment of weighted silence, delivered his
verdict: “I like it. It’s Anglican. Scripture and Reason.” I checked back in
with Mike and Steve who, by then, were both pleased that both their views had been represented, and that the elder statesmen
had come to an agreement. And that, as they say in showbiz, was a wrap.
They had
come to a decision and they did it together. More importantly, they didn't talk AT each other. They talked TO each other.
My point here – and I do have one – is that we can learn a lot from what Jesus says, but we can learn even more from what Jesus does.
When feeling overwhelmed, it’s a good idea to take some time for yourself. Jesus went away to pray. And then his response to any sort of additional pressure was to stay focused on what was important, on the task at hand, the original mission.
Author Sue Monk Kidd writes, “Creativity flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.”
Deliberate waiting. Some would call that part of what it means to pray – to not just yammer away at God but to be intentional – deliberate – in waiting to hear an answer.
Believe it or not, Lent is right around the corner – a mere ten days from today. I don’t know about you but I plan to take a little bit of Epiphany light with me into the darkness of Lent.
I plan to greet questions not with fear but creativity, and see within the upheaval an opportunity for growth and change.
To take the chance to see with new eyes a new way.
To allow Jesus to lift me by the hand and let the fever of sin to break so that I might be lifted up.
To spend time asking for and listening to a word of knowledge so that I may not only be healed but also be a vehicle of healing.
And, like Betty, Simon’s mother in law, to allow gratitude for my healing to be the energy I need to return to the task at hand and follow Jesus into the mission – the work – to which I am (we are all) called – to bring the nourishment and the healing, the justice and the hope of the Good News in Christ Jesus to others in the world.
Amen.
Oh, that was a good read for the first Thursday in Lent. And I loved the direction you took with the text.
ReplyDeleteL.
Thanks, Lindy.
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