Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany
Mark 1:29-39
My grandmother had six sisters. She was the youngest and ended up caring for
many of them as they ended their life journey. As children, my sister and I
came to know them well, Ida, Emma, Tillie, Mamie, Bertha and the sister my grandmother
cared for the longest Anna. Anna had many unique and mysterious habits; at least
it seemed so to us children. Sometimes for Christmas or birthdays my family
would give Anna presents. She was always very gracious about receiving them,
thanking us politely, but she would whisk them away and we would never see them
again. When she died and we cleaned out her closet we found amazing things;
multiple pairs of long kid gloves with pearl buttons with the price tags still
on. There were scarves the colors of the rainbow still in the boxes in which
they had been given. Aprons, pillowcases, slips, lovingly embroidered, crocheted
or tatted still wrapped in the tissue they had been received in. I can only
speculate that she was waiting for just the right occasion to use these gifts
and for her that occasion just never seemed special enough.
As we have made our way through the Epiphany season
I wonder, “Are we too living lives of unused gifts? Are we failing to recognize
those Epiphany moments that are around us because we keep waiting for the really
cataclysmic event that will assure and solidify our faith. Are we keeping our
spiritual gifts, talents and abilities under wraps waiting for that unequivocal,
ringing voice to call us?”
I watch in the morning as the newspapers are thrown
onto the driveways thinking that rather symbolically this delivers into our
midst the pains and worries of the world. Certainly that has been true in the
past few days. The clear and steady rhetoric of war surrounds us. The photos
of hundreds of marines kissing their tearful husbands, wives and children good-bye
accosts us. The confused faces of NASA officials as they grapple with the aftermath
of a tragedy they do not understand. And the tear stained faces of those who
mourn. Enough is enough.
And yet there is Epiphany. This is the season
when we, like the crowds in our stories are to stand in awe of the power and
the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ, when the glory of God accosts us in the
healings and the loving acts of which we are called to be a part. But where
are these Epiphany events in real life—where are these special occasions
of graciousness where our exalted Lord takes center stage?
Perhaps our Gospel lesson today has something
to say to this. Were I to title this lesson I might call it, A Day in the Life
of Jesus; not an ordinary day but perhaps a typical one. And perhaps there is
something to be learned from this day for the living of our days. Our lesson
is from the gospel of Mark. When I quiz the confirmands on the special nature
of this gospel I call it the Dragnet Gospel. Sergeant Friday in Dragnet always
says, “Please ma’am, just the facts. Just the facts.” That’s
all that Mark gives us—no embellishment, no emotion, no detail. If we don’t
pay close attention the story is gone before we know it because there’s
so little material to sink your teeth into.
If we pull it apart, there are four important
components to this Epiphany episode. First, It is the Sabbath. Jesus begins
his day in the synagogue; in the worshipping community. It is, I believe, possible
to worship God apart from community, but it is certainly not easy. It is in
the synagogue that the first healing of the day takes place. In the synagogue,
Jesus drives out the demons. We can worship God anywhere but where does the
authority of his message confront us to heal us except in the community of the
faithful, in the hearing of the word and in the presence of the Christ in the
sacrament that makes us whole and gives us life. Jesus begins his day in the
worshipping community.
The second component, the next part of the day
is characterized by the healings. Jesus leaves the synagogue with James and
John and they go to the house of Simon and Andrew. In Mark’s inimitable
way we get hardly enough detail to follow the story line. We find that Simon
Peter’s mother in law is sick with a fever. We do not know how severe the
fever is but for any woman expecting guests to go to bed with a fever we can
probably assume it was bad. Jesus went to her, took her by the hand, helped
her up and the fever left her. This is hardly a brass band, star spangled kind
of event. This is not the kind of splashy, flashy healing that a healer from
T.V. looking for attention would produce. The woman does not leave flailing
her arms and shouting, “I’m healed, I’m healed.” Rather,
she goes back to work. She assumes again her place, her relationship to the
others around her.
So too, our Epiphany moments are not often those
splashy, flashy affairs. Often times I think we only see that God has been active
in our lives as we look at things in retrospect. How was it that we managed
to get through that difficult time of crisis? How did we ever get the courage
to take that risk or leap of faith so many years ago? The epiphany moments in
life may not be dramatic affairs. Simon Peter’s mother in law’s temperature
drop may have occurred anyway but she—she knew who to attribute it to.Word
gets out. The message spreads. Before long a crowd has assembled. Indeed the
whole town has arrived. And he cured many from diseases and cast out many demons.
Our typical day has almost run it course. It’s
been what 18 or 19 hours. Mark gives us the third component to our story. In
the morning, before anyone else was up, Jesus rises, slips into his clothes
and departs to a lonely place to pray. If there is one area of our lives that
I would take a guess is most neglected in the day-to-day routine it is these
moments of quiet and solitude and prayer.
Yesterday a goodly number of our congregational
council attended a retreat, the Mid Size Congregation Transformation Retreat.
In the retreat we discussed eight handles for congregational transformation
and growth. One of the handles we most discussed, and undoubtedly you will be
hearing more about this in the coming months—was prayer. We talked about
praying for our congregation, for the ministries of our congregation for the
families of the congregation. We talked about our personal prayer lives. And
we prayed. I have not often been in a group discussing prayer that has not turned
into a litany of each of our inadequacies or at least our uncertainties about
prayer. It strikes me that a big part of those feelings centers on what we say
rather than around what is probably the more important part of prayer, how we
listen. I know I am always so worried about bringing the right concerns, saying
things in the right way but if I haven’t listened, if I haven’t been
quiet to receive the gift that is given then I have missed part of the epiphany.
We are regularly regaled by medical studies about
the value of this time apart; all kinds of claims about medical benefits attributed
to even a short 15 minutes of quiet and prayer. We need hardly be surprised
by these. The model was there a long time ago.
And so we end our day with Jesus as his companions hunt for him. “Let’s go back to town. The people are looking for you. “ I imagine the disciples are thinking, “Let’s go back to the scene of your triumph. People love you there. Let’s enjoy the moment. Let’s bask in the glory of success.” But you know what Jesus says, “Let’s go on to the neighboring towns. That’s what I’m called to do.” It’s about mission. It’s about moving on, the next town, and the next need.
24 hours. Jesus typical day in the real world.
Mark doesn’t give us much flash or glitz or flare. If we weren’t careful
it would be easy to miss the epiphanies. If we weren’t paying attention
the moments when God breaks into life would just slip on past. Sort of like
our lives. Maybe those in breaking moments when God draws close are just slipping
on by. But Jesus day, his typical day gives us hints on where to look, clues
perhaps, in the worshipping community, in the moments of healing and wholeness,
in the quiet times of prayer and in the call to further mission and ministry.
God breaks in. God reveals God self. God becomes known—
If we’ll only pay attention. If we’ll only look!
Amen.