5th Sunday after the
Epiphany (Year B) – Sunday, February 5, 2012
Christ Evangelical Lutheran Church,
Lancaster, PA
Text: Mark 1:29-39
He
opened his eyes to look at the same ceiling with the same stains from
the same roof leaks that he'd stared at day after day, week after
week, ever since his sentencing with the doctor a few months ago. It
was a sentence of death he had received – death by boredom and
heart-wrenching isolation, the death of his life as he'd known it.
The cartilage in both his knees had evidently conspired to run off
together, because there wasn't any of it left in either of his knees.
Something about his blood vessels meant there wouldn't be any fancy
new metal joints in his future. No, he was not destined to become
the bionic man. He was just his plain old self, in the same old
place, not going nowhere except to the bathroom or the chair in the
living room, and not even that without a pain-induced outburst that
could make a sailor cringe.
People
came to see him to tell him about all the things that were happening
in the world – things he had nothing to do with anymore. No more
Wednesday nights at the bowling alley reminding his buddies how bad
the Eagles played last week. No more being called upon to do the
jobs that nobody else could do. No more losing games of tag to his
nieces. And finally, no more trimming the hedges around the church
or slipping candy secretly into the hands of the Sunday School kids.
Just the same old spots on the ceiling.
If you
have not lived this story, I'm relatively sure you love someone who
has or is living it, every day. For me, it was my Mom, whose chronic
illness eventually cost her three jobs, two homes, whatever was left
in her bank account. For some, it's the pink slip of being laid off.
For others, it's the tornado or earthquake or hurricane that
happened to descend on their block. And for some it's simply being
cut off from the life of our society because of one's skin color or
native language.
A bad
prognosis or an empty bank account reaches much deeper in people's
lives than others imagine. It's not just the symptoms of disease.
The real pain comes from being cut off from your community, from the
people you love. It comes from no longer being able to pursue the
vocations God has given you. The word “vocation” literally means
a “calling,” that is, a calling from God. Sure, a vocation can
be a job, but we believe God calls each of us also into
relationships, and activities, and service to others. Your many
vocations may include being a husband or wife, a son, a daughter, an
uncle, an aunt, a brother, a sister, a community meal volunteer, a
lector, a lay assistant, a friend, a conversation partner, a boss, an
employee, and on and on. If I asked you to make a list of your
vocations right now, I'm sure you could fill up all the white space
in your bulletin.
In our
reading today, we find out that Simon Peter had a mother-in-law.
See, the disciples are just like you! He had a vocation as a
son-in-law, perhaps one that tired him at times, but part of that
vocation was to get help for her as she was confined to bed with a
fever. This woman, who unfortunately Mark does not name for us, had
her vocations ripped away from her by a debilitating illness. As the
chief caretaker of this household, she had the vocation of providing
hospitality to guests, especially famous rabbi-prophets whom the
crowds followed! Chained to bed with a fever, staring up at the
ceiling of her home, she was denied the fulfillment of her calling
from God.
But in
the midst of a long day, Jesus responds to Simon's pleas and he makes
the first shut-in visit of his Galilean ministry. As always, Mark
tells us simply: “[Jesus] took her by the hand and lifted her up
(by the way that's the same word he uses to describe Jesus'
resurrection); then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.”
Now,
gentlemen, if you think you've found a text to once again justify a
domestic role for women, I'm sorry but I will have to deny you that
satisfaction! This woman had a name, so let's honor her with one –
we'll call her Leah. Jesus raises up Leah just as he himself will be
raised by his Father. Leah is given new life, and that life has a
purpose. The purpose is diakonia,
or “service,” a word that has given rise to the terms “deaconess”
and “deacon.” It is the word that Jesus uses when he says later
in Mark, “the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve, and
to give his life as a ransom for many.” Diakonia
is absolutely essential to our identity as disciples of Jesus. Jesus
restored Leah to her community and to her vocations. In a sense,
Leah was the first person who grasped the meaning of discipleship –
she used her new life to serve in the footsteps of the Christ who
came to serve his followers.
In
this season of Epiphany, we've heard in the first chapter of Mark
Jesus' proclamation that “the kingdom of God is at hand.” In
Mark, Jesus shows us
what God's kingdom is all about by what he does. Today we discover
that the kingdom of God is present wherever Jesus is restoring people
to a community of mutual, self-giving service.
I
can't promise that what often bars us from our communities and
vocations - the illnesses, injuries, or challenges you or your loved
ones face - will magically disappear. I can't promise that any one
prayer we pray will restore a joint or wipe away heart failure.
Those would be empty words. Leah didn't pass a secret test from God
by praying enough times or in just the right way, or by trusting
enough for Christ to come and heal her. She didn't even know Jesus
until he healed her. The healing God brings is not only for the most
faithful. Jesus simply came to her in love and mercy.
The
promise for you and for me today is that there is no injury or
illness, no pink slip, no chronic condition, no disaster, nothing at
all that people use to push you away, that can keep you from the God
who reaches down to serve you in Jesus Christ. Christ simply comes
to you with love and mercy, and he comes through people in your
lives, through prayer and other conversation, through God's Word and
through water, bread and wine. God is always working and hearing our
prayers. Creation is always unfolding in surprising ways. In the
midst of the realities of suffering and death we must all face, new
life is sprouting in simple acts of faith in God's goodness that we
get to do every day – like listening to someone, or sharing a meal,
or nurturing children in the church. New life has come literally in
the birth of two new beautiful children of God, brimming with
possibilities.
We
are called and empowered by the Holy Spirit to be the way God heals
his beloved ones in need. We are called to tell jokes and play games
and share pictures with our sisters and brothers bound to their
homes. We're called to find new ways for all people to share their
unique gifts as members of the Body of Christ. We are really filled
with the Spirit of God and sent to be the presence of Christ right
there next to someone who desperately needs it. Just being there,
reminding someone that she or he is a vital member of Christ's Body
in the world, is indeed doing “God's work” with “our hands.”
That's our church's motto if you didn't know – God's work. Our
hands!
In
the community of disciples of this Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth, you
always have a place. That is what it means to be baptized. You will
find that it continually brings you into relationships – with
people close to you and maybe even with strangers. This is what the
kingdom of God looks like – people being reunited. Community being
created where it does not yet exist. People being called, and
empowered, and sent in their own ministries as baptized disciples.
Today, Christ is taking you by the hand and raising you up with a
love as deep as the cross. Where is he sending you? I'd love to
know! Amen.
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