A long, long time ago, before iPods and such, there was a thing called a “record.” It was a vinyl disk with a hole in the middle and tiny grooves around it. Music was mysteriously embedded in the grooves, and if you put the disk on a turntable called a “record player” and placed the arm, with the magic needle in the groove, you could hear the music! Remember that?
OK, when my kids were young, they played with such machines. Recordings were made at various “speeds” and their favorite thing was to take a record recorded at “33 rpm” and play it at “78.” Remember what that sounded like? Crazy! Funny! Everybody laughed!
Well, that’s what the gospel of Mark is like. It’s like a story told at 33 rpm and played back at 78! Everything is speeded up, and run together, and sometimes it’s almost funny because things happen so fast. There’s no time to absorb one event before the other is upon us. We have not even left the first chapter and already Jesus has appeared, been baptized, confronted Satan in the desert, called some disciples and cast a demon out of a man at the local synagogue.
Today we begin: “As soon as they left the synagogue…” In the next few verses, Jesus will heal Simon’s mother-in-law, eat dinner, see the whole city gathered outside the front door, heal “all who were sick or possessed with demons,” and “cure many who were sick with various diseases.” Is it any wonder that he got up in the wee hours of the morning and “went out to a deserted place” to pray?
From our perspective, his need for peace and quiet is understandable. But his friends did not think so. According to the story, they “hunted for him,” found him, and said, “Everyone is searching for you.”
What a seductive statement! Jesus was needed! His gifts and skills had been recognized and the entire city wanted him front and center. They needed his help. Few of us have the ego strength necessary to resist a genuine request for our assistance. It is human to want to be needed. The ability to respond to another’s needs is part of what draws us into community, and our need for community is at the core of our being.
What’s really stunning about this story is that Jesus apparently ignored this statement of need. Really, it goes against everything we think we know about Jesus. Isn’t Jesus the one we call on in our time of need? Isn’t “Jesus, help me!” the ready words on all our lips when we hurt, when there’s danger, when we are alone? Haven’t we been taught since childhood that Jesus is our ever-present help in time of need?
But Jesus chose not to help. In fact, it seems like he didn’t even hear what they said. They said, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.”
In that very human moment, Jesus faced a decision all of us must face at some point. Jesus had to discern and choose to follow his life’s direction. Was he meant to be helpful? Or to be faithful? Was he called to help everyone who needed him in this place? Or was he called to a life of proclamation, a life on the move, a life spent speaking the
Discernment of life’s call is never easy. And surely Jesus struggled with his decision in ways you or I would not, because while most of us have some identifiable life activity, Jesus was performing miracles. Miracles are not ordinary. Miracles are very impressive, especially to eyewitnesses. If Jesus had stayed in
But Jesus heard a different word and chose to move on. It was not just about the miracles. They were a minor part of his mission.
Theologian Philip Yancey wrote an essay about Jesus and his miracles that I found helpful. Yancey points out that although Jesus’ miracles blew away the people who were watching, they actually affected only a very small number in a very tiny corner of the world. For example, no Europeans or Chinese people received Jesus’ healing touch. And Jesus never did do miracles “on demand.” He had no need to prove himself. Jesus seemed to know that the miracles would attract the wrong kind of people, the people who believed in magic and instant answers. Jesus knew that life in the
Things become clearer if we go back to the beginning of today’s reading, to the story of Simon’s mother-in-law. Again, in Mark’s writing style, this little incident almost disappears in the rush of the story. But it got written down and remembered for a reason.
Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever. That was serious business in those days. There was no guarantee she would ever get up again. So as Jesus entered the home, the boys told him the sad news – Mom is sick in bed. The rest of the story is contained all in one verse: “He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.”
It’s worth noting that the word translated “lifted her up” is the same word Mark uses to describe Jesus’ resurrection. Simon’s mother-in-law was raised to new life, to a life of wholeness in God’s kingdom. Even though it is the Sabbath, she prepares a meal for her guests. She is living in a new world, a world ruled by love.
Another word that bears reflection is “served.” The Greek is diakoneo, the root of our word deacon, the same verb Jesus later uses to describe his own ministry and that of his disciples. Simon’s mother-in-law is not a poor woman who had to get up from her sickbed and cook for a houseful of men. Rather, she is the first person in Mark’s story who demonstrates true discipleship.[2] We are healed not for ourselves, but so we can serve Jesus and others. We are made whole so that we can live our true identity as children of God and inhabitants of God’s kingdom.
My daughter called yesterday afternoon sounding frustrated and harassed. “What’s happened?” I asked. “I tried to do my weekly grocery shopping at Walmart,” she said, “I forgot about the Superbowl. All of Greensboro was out shopping.” We forget that the rest of world has agendas that are different from our own. Sometimes those agendas collide, and we are the worse for it.
Our world these days is a bit like a 33 rpm record being run at 78. Everything is faster than it used to be and mostly it’s not funny. I confess to sitting impatiently before my computer, griping about how slow it is running, when in fact, it presents me with all kinds of information in mere seconds, much less time than it would take me to research things in other ways. Sometimes speed is a good thing.
But more often it is not. The journey inward toward human authenticity is not meant to happen quickly. Discernment of our true nature, our true calling, takes reflection, and reflection takes time and quiet. Sometimes we are wounded. Sometimes we are possessed by demons of anger, or fear, or envy. Sometimes it is just that our place and our role in the Body of
The piece of today’s gospel we need to take away with us this morning is this:
“…that is what I came to do.”
What did God send you to do? Make no mistake about it. God gave each one of us specific gifts and skills, and God needs each of us to use those gifts and skills in the service of the kingdom.
What did YOU come to do?
Memory is a fascinating phenomenon. Memory cannot be touched, tasted, or smelled, yet those things are the very substance of it. Memory is the connective tissue of our lives, and its essence is experience - not intellect. Even when we want to make memory an intellectual exercise - when we want to "memorize" something - we tend to put it in an experiential context. So, for example, we teach our children the alphabet by creating a song for them to sing.
As we grow older, we make light of occasional memory slips. We have "senior moments." Things are "right on the tip of my tongue." Keeping a sense of humor about such a common human problem seems right and reasonable. But when we or someone we love is affected by a brain injury or brain disease - the light-hearted approach disappears. It is incredibly painful to watch memory evaporate.
Memory matters. The ability to remember is crucial, not only to sustain life, but also to maintain relationships - even our relationship with God.
Faith begins with memory. Memory is the tool hope uses to give us a picture of tomorrow.
That is the teaching of the prophet in this morning's reading from Isaiah.
Conditions for the people of Israel have gone from bad to worse. Their cities, homes and farms have been destroyed. They themselves, for several generations, have been forced to live in exile. The small community of faith still existing in that faraway land is losing hope. They have begun to ask one another questions of doubt: Does God really care about the nation of Israel? Can God save us? Babylon's armies are strong. How strong is God?
Isaiah's prophet responds by telling them that the threat to their future is not Babylon, but their own faulty memory. Our scriptures do not record his words in music exactly, but certainly the poetry has its own mnemonic voice.
"Have you not known? Have you not heard?
Has it not been told you from the beginning?
Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth?"
Remember the God who created you. Remember the gifts of creation. Remember that this is the God who gave you your name - who has written that name on the palm of his hand. This God is faithful and will never forget you.
Then - can you the music director in the background saying: "Come on, Isaiah baby, now - bring it on home!" - then the prophet says - God is faithful, and so too, must you, who are created in the image of God, so too, must you be faithful. Do not turn to your own ways. Do not depend on your own understanding. Depend on God. Wait upon the Lord, and your strength will be renewed. Bad times will not go away, but you will survive.
But you must remember. Faith begins with memory.
In the rapid fire delivery of Mark's gospel, Jesus provides the same teaching..
Here, even before the end of Mark's first chapter, already Jesus has been baptized, tempted, called disciples, taught in the synagogue and cast out a few demons. Stopping for the night at the home of friends, he heals his hostess, entertains the entire city in the courtyard, and after a few hours sleep, goes off for some peace and quiet. But his newly inducted disciples are anxious. They can't remember what comes next. All they know is that the people are out there - calling, seeking, demanding that Jesus appear. But Jesus said: "No, it's time to move on, so I can proclaim the gospel elsewhere - because that is what I came to do."
Jesus did not forget the mission. Jesus did not allow the demands and chaos of the moment to obscure his reason for being there in the first place.
In fact, what the writer of Mark is trying to say is that Jesus himself WAS the mission. That is what the writer of Mark did not want the early Christian community to forget. Not only did Jesus proclaim the gospel, Jesus WAS the gospel. Jesus didn't cast out demons and heal people to prove that he was a miracle worker or to demonstrate his divinity. Jesus wasn't trying to prove anything. Jesus simply came to live the Kingdom of God on earth, and all he did and all he said was congruent with life in that kingdom.
The writer of Mark began his book with a partial sentence: "the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God..." That sentence, my friends, 2000 years later has not yet come to an end. Jesus' first words as Mark records them are: "The time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe in the good news."
That time is still now. Literally Jesus said: Turn around and look. Open your eyes and believe what you see. Here, where I am, here is the kingdom of God.
When we turn and look fully at Jesus, we see a man who was both whole and free - more whole and more free than any other human being on earth - before or since. Jesus was obedient to the law, but not bound by it. As a human being, Jesus was subject to the laws of nature, but he was not bound by them. Jesus was not even bound by death, and that is the ultimate good news.
Wherever Jesus went, the good news was proclaimed, simply by virtue of his presence. Jesus embodied the good news so that we could hear it, so we could get the message, so we could remember even that which we do not always know or fully understand. Wherever Jesus went, there God's kingdom was, and in God's kingdom all people are whole and free. Jesus touched people, and immediately, they entered the kingdom. Jesus called people, and immediately they followed him into the kingdom.
Today, we are the community called to remembrance by the voice of the prophet. Baptized into the Body of Christ, we are the ones who have been touched and invited to follow. Where we gather in his Name, Jesus is. Through the power of God's Holy Spirit, it is our time to touch and call others. It is up to us to make God's kingdom visible.
And we have everything we need to do this, for God has not forgotten us. God is with us still. God knows the times are hard. God knows that memories grow thin. God knows that hope is sometimes a feeble reed. So God continues to provide.
God has given us the gift of scripture. We have an entire, extraordinary collection of memories, spanning hundreds, even thousands of years. God has given us the gifts of liturgy - of ritual, music, images, symbols and signs. God has given us the sacraments - outward and visible signs of inward and spiritual grace.
But perhaps the most important gift of all is the gift of community - the gift of the Body of faith. This is the gift to which Isaiah points when he says: "Lift up your eyes on high and see: Who created these? He who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them all by name...not one is missing."
Enlivened by God's Spirit, the Kingdom of God stretches across the limits of time and space. All those who God created, all those who have gone before us are part of our present community. My faith is therefore not dependent on my own individual ability to believe. My memory is not dependent on my individual brain's ability to recall. On any given day, my doubts will not bring down the reality of the Kingdom, nor will they remove me from it.
Faith begins with memory. Memory is preserved in community.
Several years ago, I was asked to make a pastoral call on a woman in her 80's. She had been an active, vital member of the parish: teaching Sunday School, serving on the vestry, serving as a lay reader, and even, eventually, as a chalicist. Now she had a multiplicity of health problems, and lived alone in her home, with caregivers assisting her.
The first time I visited, she said: "I only have one question. Do you think Jesus loves me?" I was taken aback. Here was a woman whose faith had been so strong, who had served as inspiration to so many. How could she ask such a question?
Of course, I assured her: "Yes, Jesus loves you." She smiled, reached out to hold my hand, and our conversation moved on. That became a pattern for our regular visits.
Along the way, a new health problem appeared, and she began to lose her memory. At first it was the short term stuff - like what day is today, and who is this person standing before me. But as time passed, it became clear that this was the disease that would soon rob her of life itself.
Oddly, one thing she did not forget was the question. She did not often know who I was, but, when I visited, eventually, her eyes would catch sight of my collar. She would then reach out to take my hand, and she would ask: "Does Jesus love me?"
But one day, it was different. I walked in the door, and she did not look up. I touched her hand, and said my name. For a minute, there was silence, and no sign of recognition. Then, in a clear voice, she said, "Jesus loves me." Again, I was startled, but managed to respond with "Yes!" A tune came to mind, and I started humming: Her voice joined in, and we finished the song together. "Jesus loves me, this I know...."
Eventually the day came when her breathing slowed, and her voice was gone. On that day her family gathered around her bed. The good news was proclaimed and the kingdom of God was at hand as we remembered and sang together: "Jesus loves me, this I know..."
Faith begins with memory.
Key passages: Isaiah 40: 21-31, Psalm 147:1-12, 1 Corinthians 9: 16-23, Mark 1:29-39