It was about a week and a half ago. Pastor Chris and middle son Tim were at the National Lutheran Youth Gathering in St. Louis. Oldest son Andrew left for work at 6:15 and youngest son Jonathan went out the door for summer school at 7. The dog had been fed and let out. I had a cup of coffee and two morning newspapers set before me at the kitchen table I settled into my chair--opened the first paper took a sip of my coffee and the phone rang-it was my mother.
The next half hour plus was spent learning about the latest crises of lives far removed from here--of births and deaths--of triumphs and failures, and when I hung up the phone I turned my attention to the less important items reported in the headlines of two world newspapers--less important at least in the sense that the world events seem somehow more removed from my life and daily experiences. I spent the rest of my day thinking about various items reported to me by my mother--long after the headline stories had been replaced in my memory by new events on the radio and television. I still was thinking about the stories of family members and friends. And my prayers were more for them then for the world.
In this close communication age it is a fact that the world at
times just seems to be too much with us--we seek a way out of
the world and into the quieter and more personal moments of our
own lives. But we can be assured that we are never alone for long-there
are always interruptions.
There are, of course, interruptions and then
there are interruptions. There are those unexpected intrusions
into our daily lives
that have become a part of our worldliness--terrible stories of
natural disasters-accidents-terrorism-starvation. Epidemics-sadness-want
and need--they are the stories that make us pause and maybe even
reflect on some of the more positive dimension to our lives--and
then we move on and return to our busy-ness.
But there are other interruptions that bring us up short, that confront us in a personal way. Challenges to our lives and the way we live them, sometimes leading us in new and positive directions--other times requiring a total reassessment of our goals and priorities.
In our Gospel lesson for today it has been
a busy week. The disciples have just returned from the mission
Jesus had sent them on--two by two taking the word to others and
performing miracles as they were able. Our text begins with the
words
"The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all
that they had done and taught. He said to them, 'Come away to
a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.'" This
is a fitting text for summer reading--Jesus inviting those who
work for the gospel, those who preach, teach and minister to other's
needs to take time for themselves, to get away from it all. This
is the stuff of which summer is supposed to be made--time for
re-creation-time away for refreshment and renewal.
Our text continues
And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves.
Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried
there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As
he went ashore, he saw a great crowd.
There is nothing worse then trying to get away
from it all only to find that it all arrived there ahead of you.
The vacation trip that is filled with one frustration after another--in
the worst cases--going to the ocean only to find a hurricane approaching--going
to the north woods to find a forest fire raging. Heading south
to find 110 degree heat in the shade.
More then once we have found that all vacation means is trading
one set of stress factors for another, but at least, as Chris
regularly reminds me...they are different stresses...and different
is good.
A spiritual retreat is not determined by place, especially not in our modern connected world. There is no place that we can go any more that is truly away. It may be that a cartoon I saw recently is the only true solution. It was a picture of a pastor standing by a train, the cars are filled with happy vacationers all waving and shouting good-bye. The caption reads: "Sure it cost Pastor Smith a great deal to send the entire congregation on a vacation, but it was worth it"
If we can't pack up the world we know and send
it off somewhere on vacation, then the only other choice is try
to take time for ourselves away. That's what Jesus tried to do
with his disciples, and as usual the world followed.
As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion
for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and
he began to teach them many things.
We probably are not particularly fond of the
idea of being compared to sheep, but the simile is not hard to
recognize--sheep milling about-wandering without direction. One
of the most commonly identified maladies of the modern psyche
is the search for meaning--purpose--direction. The Old Testament
lesson for today from the prophet Jeremiah recalls the image common
to much of ancient scripture where the shepherd is identified
with the king, from the time of David around 1000 BC the king
was charged with the care of the people-a shepherd if you will.
The fate of the shepherd and the sheep was closely connected.
When the prophet Jeremiah bemoans the absence of good leaders
who care for the whole nation he does so with the image of the
absence of good shepherds for the flock. Jesus looked upon the
crowd and they seemed lost-lacking direction and we are told he
had compassion for them.
Compassion. As we caution our confirmation
students when they study the miracles of Jesus, we must be careful
not to confuse compassion with pity. Pity is a perspective word--looking
down on someone less fortunate. Compassion is more concerned with
entering into the condition or needs of another. Compassion is
saying "I know what you're feeling-needing-suffering-facing."
But of course few if any of us can really do that--enter into
another person's life-become one with them. In all honesty only
God can really so enter our lives-share in our oneness.
Compassion. Let us be careful to understand that Jesus having compassion does not identify him with one modern day political party more than another. I fear compassion is a word that is destined this year to be one of those words that develops a bad reputation. Compassion is being politicized which means that next it will be institutionalized, then bureaucratized-legalized-and ultimately trivialized.
A compassionate savior who seeks no higher office will become a curiosity of another time and place. People will come to feel that while it would be nice to be compassionate. It is simply not practical-there is always the question of motivation. Why would someone act compassionately-what are they after, and who might be disturbed by this action--some special interest group-ethnic or social group?
The world finds it hard to believe anyone would act simply out of concern for another, to feed someone simply because they are hungry, to cloth someone because they need clothing, to shelter someone who might be cold. To have compassion by entering into the life of another. Jesus looked upon the crowd for they looked like a shepherdless flock, seeking direction-with so many needs.
Our Gospel lesson for today is actually two
pieces of scripture with a missing middle. The portion left out
is the feeding of the 5000 (next week's lesson) -- people so lost-Jesus
ultimately has to even face the question of feeding the multitude
that has followed him and the disciples to the deserted place,
and after performing the miracle of feeding Jesus loads up his
crew of followers and heads off for yet another quiet place only
to find that once again he is recognized and the world crowds
around, with the sick of every type being brought to him--those
seeking healing only wanting to touch the hem of his robe.
There is just no getting away from the world--just one interruption
after another.
I don't know about you, but I think I can honestly say that I have never had a day go exactly the way I planned it. Something always interrupts my plans--sometimes for the better--often to no particular advantage or loss. Sometimes it is easy to accept that I can't control my life, sometimes I can enjoy the serendipitous nature of the unexpected in life, sometimes the unexpected brings me new understanding of myself or the world--grace moments of insight. But there are other times when the unexpected is hard to accept. There are many interruptions in life that are disruptive, that flat out deny the very life we would live -- reversals in school-work-health-family and friends. There are times when we are left feeling beaten by the unexpected and close to despair. Sooner or later most people would be happy to have a few less surprises in their lives, so that they can get control of the life they have, but the world rushes on-we find no retreat. We find ourselves yearning for just a little help-maybe a little shepherding.
None of us would presume to be Jesus, so to
suggest that we deal with the challenges of life as Christ did
is meaningless.
But we are invited to follow his example, to take the opportunity
to enter into life's interruptions and be open to the miracles
of grace that may transform them, to allow for the moments of
grace to be revealed even in the darkness of the unexpected.
Theodore Wardlaw tells of the time his two daughters ages five and one were left home with the babysitter. A ferocious storm blew up--complete with pelting rain, big winds and lightning. The electricity in the neighborhood was knocked out, plunging the house and street into total darkness. The two small girls were eating dinner when the storm and darkness overwhelmed them and they began to cry. The older child expressed concern for her parents--would they find their way home--and what might happen to them. The babysitter led the girls by flashlight into the living room where she lit some candles on the mantel and started a fire in the fireplace. Soon a flickering glow bathed the room in soft light and for the next two hours until the power was restored the girls sat on the sitters lap while she read to them some of their favorite stories.
Sometimes the only way to deal with the unexpected it to light whatever light we can, even if only a little light-and share a story. Compassion is not ours to control-but is ours to share. A gift from God.
A story told by Tom Miller makes this too clear. One day an old man living on the street became very ill and was taken to the hospital. The doctors realized that he could not live very long. They tried to find the old man's name, but all the old man would say is, "Son! Son!" In looking through his clothing for identification, they could only find a news clipping about a Marine stationed in Korea. The Red Cross located the Marine and flew him back to the United States. As the young soldier walked into the hospital room the old man smiled broadly and exclaimed, "Son! Son!" For several hours the young man held the old man's hand until the old man died peacefully.
After that the nurse said to the Marine, "We need to know your father's full name." The Marine replied, "He wasn't my father. I never saw the man before in my life." Amazed the nurse asked, "Then why did you stay?"
The Marine answered simply, "Because he needed me."
Jesus looked upon the crowd and had compassion. Jesus enters our lives in compassion. The grace of each moment may not be the interruption we seek, but it comes to us nonetheless. Jesus comes with compassion because we need him. We need him to enter our lives to bring us purpose, to enter our lives that we might feel his touch and presence, to enter our lives with grace and forgiveness.
This may not be the most quiet place--it is certainly not a deserted place--but it is the place where Christ enters in once more to our lives and invites us to share with one another--that gift of grace.
Amen.