Sermon - God is in the desert, too... (Lent 1B)

FIRST SUNDAY OF LENT, YEAR B                              February 21, 2021

Genesis 9:8-17; I Peter 3:18-22; Mark 1:9-15                    Panzer Liturgical Service

The season of Lent grew out of the ancient church’s practice of holding baptisms at Easter. Before their baptisms, converts to the faith were expected to go through an intensive period of repentance, self-examination, prayer, and preparation for their new life in Christ. That period could sometimes last as long as three years, but the final forty days before Easter were always the most important. Our lessons for the First Sunday in Lent reflect those central themes of baptism and preparation for new life.

The reading from Genesis is the finale of the Flood story when God makes a covenant with Noah, his offspring, and every living creature that accompanies them off the ark. Here, God renews the covenant with the created world, showing concern not only for people but all creatures. Earlier in Genesis, God said, "Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air, for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth" (1:28, The Message). I hope you heard the story this week of the great turtle rescue happening this week at Naval Air Station Corpus Christi. Sea turtles. Starting with one Marine veteran and his friends, and expanding to the Navy base and South Padre Island community, people have plucked thousands of stranded turtles from the freezing seas, housing them first in a Navy aircraft hanger, then expanding to the city’s convention center.[i]

In the passage from 1 Peter, the writer draws a parallel between the promise God made after the flood (I will never destroy the earth) with the new covenant of baptism in Christ (I will make all things new). Jesus overcame sin not by flooding it or destroying it, but by transforming it through his death and resurrection. To be baptized is to be taken up into this re-creative work in the world.[ii] In Texas, hundreds of volunteers are working not just to save and rehabilitate these endangered animals, but also to return them to their habitat as soon as possible. Implicitly or explicitly, this community understands what it means to live under the covenant of God’s promises.

We have visited the baptism of Jesus already once this year, but as a reminder, in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus’ story doesn’t begin with angelic visitors or a prophetic dream. There is no miraculous birth – no poetic hymn to the incarnate Word. No soaring prose, no travelers from the East, no expensive gifts, no awestruck shepherds, no jealous, brooding king. Instead, Mark’s Gospel hurls us, ready or not, into a lonely and barren wilderness— a desert— where everything either bites or burns or stings.

It’s hard to imagine a more dramatic moment than the baptism of Jesus. As he emerged from the water, the heavens ripped open and the Spirit descended like a dove while the voice of God proclaimed, “You are my beloved Son, in you I am well-pleased!" This, truly, would be a moment to savor— A moment to remember and celebrate. And yet, almost immediately, Jesus was driven out into the desert to be tormented by wild beasts and tempted by evil.

It’s not exactly what you would expect, is it? After all, God was pleased— no… make that WELL pleased with Jesus. But this beloved son was driven directly from a moment of affirmation and love into the harsh wilderness.

The experts say that it takes certain meteorological and climatic conditions to form a desert. Maps show that deserts cover about 25 percent of the earth’s landmass. , Globes show that they occur only between certain latitudes but that area could be expanded if climate change continues unchecked... That’s what the experts say.

But we all know that there is a different kind of desert – no longer defined by the heat or arid nature of the air. Deserts – or wilderness – can also be found amid our everyday life. No matter where we live, how far we travel, or how green the grass looks around us, we feel alone and disconnected. Despite the weather outlook, we find ourselves right in the middle of the desert: blinded, disoriented, sunburned, and just about dying of thirst. Some days, it’s a fleeting sense of disorientation, but other times, wilderness feels so familiar that we can name every shriveled plant, every venomous snake, every blistering ray, and every irritating little grain of sand. Sometimes, the wilderness starts to feel like home.[iii]

Some of the harshest deserts aren’t marked on any map but lie just around the corner. Each of us has experienced the desert at some time, maybe right now. Think of mothers and fathers caring for children alone, not because there are divorced or abandoned, but because their spouse is deployed away from home for an extended period of time. Think of people battling physical and emotional illness, unsure of what the future looks like, at some level, afraid.

Or people facing death – their own or the loss of someone they love – many of us have experienced the desert of knowing that things will never be the same again. Think of people who are the outcasts of society – the poor, those in prison, those whose lives are considered less worthy by those around them.

Think of our experiences of COVID-19. Some have been sickened. Our days and months are rearranged. Many of us have not seen our families in a year or more. If the last year has taught us nothing else, it’s that physically comfortable lives can feel like the desert where we can still feel alone, afraid, and unsure about what the future holds.

There are deserts – wilderness – everywhere, and our first instinct is to avoid them at all costs. But there is another truth about deserts… something Mark wants us to hear. Jesus has been there first. That is the good news of the opening scene for Mark. There is no desert on earth so remote, or so barren, or so lifeless that Jesus hasn’t walked there first.

And his presence there reminds us that despite all indications to the contrary, the desert is filled with life. It may be life as we have never seen it before, but it is life. A handful of dirt can be filled with hundreds of seeds just waiting to burst into life. The roots of the withered plant go very deep, and take in whatever nourishment they can, to sustain their leaves and flowers. The empty landscape, barren and lifeless in the daylight is suddenly teeming with life at night, as all sorts of animals and insects emerge from hiding. Even darkness is not totally without light. The smallest particles of the universe, atoms, and neutrinos are in constant motion around us, giving off infinitesimal flashes of light.[iv] At its most desolate, the desert is ready to burst into bloom at the first sign of life-giving water.

Throughout the biblical story, God uses the desert as a place of transformation. It is a place of calling, where God’s plans become solidified and made clear. Think of Moses. Think of Elijah. Think of Jesus, emerging from the waters of baptism, only to be driven (compelled) into the desert. And if we look with 20/20 hindsight, we can see how our time in the wilderness can bring us closer to God.

Author and church historian, Karen Armstrong writes of her struggle with epilepsy and how it impacted her relationship with God. After years of asking, “Why did this happen to me?” she finally understood that God called her, and each of us, to a different path. She writes, “The great stories of history show that when you follow someone else’s path, you go astray.” Ultimately, it is in the wilderness that we fight our own monsters and experience what is missing in our lives. Once transfigured, we can bring something of value to the world we left behind.[v]

It is not coincidental that Jesus goes into the wilderness, or that it is the Spirit who leads him there. Though he does not need to be confronted with his own sin, he is still led to discover who he is, and is tempted by the things that are not part of God’s call. In Matthew and Luke’s retelling of this story, there are more details, three tests which Jesus encounters before he can be restored to the community. But here in Mark, this scene only takes up two verses. And when Jesus comes home, his work begins.

In the wilderness, we become more aware of our dependence on God. In the wilderness, we learn to trust God’s way of being. In the wilderness, we are connected to what God is doing in the world. In the wilderness, when all else is taken away, we learn the true value of things and the ultimate value of love. [vi] Ultimately, it is our own pain that gives us perspective and the empathy to give others hope that there is hope on the other side.

Jesus leaves the desert to proclaim the gospel – that is, "good news," a term used in secular Greek for the public proclamation of a major event. The news is good because God’s "reign" is at hand, a kingly God who protects an endangered people, who has special concern for the vulnerable, and who judges against violence and injustice. As we continue to experience Lent through Mark’s eyes, remember that Mark’s terse and succinct prose does not give us a lot of details on what God’s reign involves. He only bids us follow Jesus. By hearing Jesus’ word and following his example, we can understand more deeply the mystery of God’s sovereignty.[vii]

The beginning of this journey through the Gospel and this season of Lent calls for metanoia—repentance or a second look at life—and belief – pisteuó, an act of trust in the God who guides the unfolding journey. As we experience these forty days of Lent, let us gather the courage to make this a journey of honest reflection.

Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor left parish ministry after 15 years to teach seminarians. She ended up living with her husband on a farm in rural Georgia, struggling with doubts and darkness – it felt like the wilderness to her. In her memoir, Learning to Walk in the Dark, she remembers that in the biblical story, some of the most important encounters with God happen in the dark or the wilderness. And when she feels that the darkness is about to consume her, she writes:

There is only one cure for me on nights like this. If I can summon the energy to put on my bathrobe and go outside, the night sky will heal me – not by reassuring me that I am just fine, but by reminding me of my place in the universe. Looking up at the same stars that human beings have been looking at for millennia, I find my place near the end of a long, long line of stargazers who stood there before me… [viii]

We don’t know where our desert journeys will lead us - at any time we can find ourselves wrestling with demons and tempted by evil. Some people might look at that journey with despair. But deep inside, we know the truth about deserts. Our hope in Christ reminds us that God is always near, found in rainbows and promises kept, even though our lives look different than we expected. This is the good news – God is faithful. This is the promise that we must remember – in joy and in darkness. Peter’s letter reminds us that through our baptisms, we are called to be a part of the redemptive work of the world. No experience is wasted. Even when we find ourselves on a desert or wilderness journey, we are called to remember, like Jesus, we are not alone.

Thanks be to God.

Let us pray:

God of revelation,
unveil your Kingdom in our midst.
Show us who we truly are in you:
expose the illusions that distort our vision,
deliver us from temptations that contort our living,
open our eyes in this time of trial –
that resistance may be the secret of our joy
and our joy a sign of your shalom. Amen.

~ posted on the Monthly Prayers page of the Christian Aid website. http://www.christianaid.org.uk/

Peace in Christ, Deb

(c) Deb Luther Teagan February 2021

---

[i] Alex Horton, Hundreds of helpless cold-stunned sea turtles rescued by Navy pilots and pickup trucks, February 19, 2021 https://www.washingtonpost.com/national-security/2021/02/18/sea-turtles-texas-navy/

[ii] Nancarrow, Paul, “Process & Faith lectionay Commentary, March 5, 2006”, http://www.ctr4process.org/pandf/lectionary/Year%20B/Lent%201%20March%205%202006.htm

[iii] McGurgan, Susan Fleming, “Sermon for the First Sunday in Lent, 2006,” http://www.mtsm.org/preaching/homilies.htm

[iv] Richard Rohr, The Universal Christ, p. 18.

[v] Armstrong, Karen, The Spiral Staircase, 2004, p 268.

[vi] Bouman, Luke, “Sermon of Mark 1:9-15,” http://www.predigten.uni-goettingen.de/archiv-8/060305-6-e.html

[vii] Donahue, John R. “A Journey Begins,” March 12, 2000, http://www.americamagazine.org/SundayScripture.cfm?articletypeid=40&textID=580&issueID=278

[viii] Taylor, Barbara Brown, Learning to Walk in the Dark, 2014, pg 64.

Sermon - To Live a Holy Lent (Ash Wednesday B)

 Ash Wednesday - Year B                                                              February 17, 2021

Joel 2:1-2, 12-17a, Psalm 51, Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21        Panzer Liturgical Service

A man went to a Friday afternoon baseball game. While there, he did what most people do when attending a baseball game… he had a hotdog. About halfway through his delicious Ballpark frank, he had a startling revelation. It was Friday. It was Lent. And he was eating a hotdog. So he spent the next 1 ½ innings (or 30 minutes) trying to decide if his sin was in eating the hotdog or in forgetting that it was Friday. In the end, he decided to avoid the problem altogether and never attend another baseball game on a Friday. I think he missed the point.

The observance of a Christian calendar began as the year was divided by bishops and congregations to help us reflect on the things that can help us live a more holy life. Easter Sunday is the most important day of our year, the grandest and the best celebration that the church has to offer, and each Sunday during the year is celebrated as a "little Easter." The fifty days after Easter takes the church on a journey to the day of Pentecost when the Holy Spirit filled the lives of those who were gathered and waiting, as Christ had commanded, recorded in the book of Acts.

But with the emergence of the Easter Season and Pentecost as a time of high celebration, people also saw the need for a time of preparation and discipline. In order to focus on piety and repentance, the season of Lent was born. It was a time when people who wished to be baptized or join the church were trained and brought into Christian fellowship. It was also a time to examine and reflect on one's relationship with God, with oneself, and with the church and community.

Some of the practices of the early church have stood through time. Early Christians fasted for forty or more days before Easter, usually not including Saturdays and Sundays. They were encouraged to spend the time that they would have normally been eating in prayer and to increase their support of ministries that helped the poor.

The practices that we now associate with Lent, such as fasting, eating fish on Friday, or "giving up"  things we are love are not just about sacrifice. When we create a void in our schedule or our menus, it offers us more time to reflect on our relationship with God and Christ. Through these small practices, we may come to know a little bit of the suffering that Christ endured for our sakes in his crucifixion and death.

Lent is also a time to reflect on the fragileness and frailty of human life, and on how our relationship with God is not what we or God want it to be. In the early church, a feeling of true, sometimes even anguished, penitence led people to periods of severe fasting, to wear clothing made from sackcloth (a material similar to burlap) or shirts made of horsehair, both very itchy garments, or to place ashes on their faces or bodies to signify a penitent spirit. Psalm 51, today’s responsive reading, reflects the desire to say to God, "I am sorry for all I have done and thought and said that does not honor you. I know it is because of your love for me that you forgive me, not because I deserve it."

The first time I received Ash Wednesday ashes I was in seminary. As I left school, I walked across the Duke campus to the parking lot, and I noticed that people kept brushing their foreheads as they passed by. Finally, a sweet Duke co-ed flagged me down, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but you have a smudge of something on your face… would you like to borrow a tissue to brush it off? “No, thanks,” I replied, “it’s there on purpose – it’s Ash Wednesday – the start of Lent.” Her blank smile told me all I needed to know. There, in the bowels of a United Methodist college campus, she had no idea what I was talking about. So I countered, “That’s ok, I’ll take care of it when I get home.”

On a normal Ash Wednesday, we would participate together in the ritual of confessing our sinfulness in a way that is outwardly visible. Receiving the ashes is a tangible way of saying "I know that I am a sinner and that my life is a mere second in God's time. I’m sorry. Have mercy on me." By itself, that statement seems cold and fearful. Our joy comes from knowing that this is not the end of the story.

But what happens, when by a significant majority, religious bodies and leaders say that the act of giving and receiving the ashes put us at greater risk of spreading a contagious disease. Some pastors I know are sprinkling ashes in people's hair – some are using a really long q-tip – some people are packing up ashes to people to take home and apply themselves. And many, many people are not gathering to worship together at all. Is any one method better than another? Does it make the action of our own repentance any less valid? I say NO.

The reading from  Matthew talks about practicing our piety in secret. We may or may not see the ashes on people’s foreheads or hands, but God sees all of the stuff in our hearts. God knows when we are giving it our best shot, and God also knows when we are playing to the crowd. The season of Lent is designed to help us reflect our own mortality and sinfulness, and also in how the love of God redeems us from taking ourselves too seriously. We love one another because God first loved us. We repent of our sin, not just today but regularly, in response to the great sacrifice that God made for us. And in the process, we welcome the new life that we have been given, and we live it out in the world in whatever ways we can.

When you come up tonight, instead of a smudge of ashes on your forehead, you will receive a card with a blessing. There is a cross, reminiscent of the cross that you may have received on your forehead or hand in years before. On the card, there is also this blessing, May God who has called you forth from the dust of the earth, and claimed you as a child of the light, strengthen you on your journey into life renewed. I encourage you to stick it in the pages of your bible, tape it to your bathroom mirror, or place it where you can be reminded of the great and gracious love that God has for you and all of us. And if you really feel the need for physical ashes, when you go home, light a candle, blow it out, and use some of the soot from the wick to mark your forehead or the back of your hand. There’s nothing magical about the ashes themselves… it’s all about the process of remembering who we are and where we are going.

In the shadow of this Ash Wednesday and these next 40 days of Lent, we are blessed, because know that Easter day will come. In six weeks, we will experience anew the life-changing resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. The seasons of Lent and Easter seem very different. But it is because we celebrate them together that we are able to keep our lives balanced.

Only when we hold together the knowledge of our own sinfulness AND the joy that is resurrection on Easter morning, can we have full knowledge of who God is in our lives. We must hold those two things in equal tension with each other, for until we do that, we cannot honestly reflect on our lives; past, present, and future. We are lucky because we know how Lent will end, not just with Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, but with Easter sunrise and joy. We know that after death, there is life, life eternal, and because of that special, holy day, this Lenten journey is filled with both joy and hope.

Tonight's gospel lesson from Matthew reminds us that we can not get too swayed in either direction, that there is a balance between being too pious and not paying enough attention to what God requires of us in our Christian walk. Whatever disciplines we follow for Lent, and for all the other seasons of the Christian year, we have to practice them for the right reasons. We pray and fast and give to others in service to God, because these are some of the ways we can acknowledge God's love for us, especially considering Christ's sacrifice for our sake.

None of us is immune to the temptations that separate from God, such as the unwise use of power and money, or things that keep our focus away from God's purposes, so we must keep before us the call to live in such a way that we are constantly reminded that God's way is our way.

And if we fall, we pick ourselves up and prepare for God to love us even more. We can’t give up, neither can we abandon truth and life in Christ's name. For whatever we do, however we live, we do it before God. Being aware of and accepting God's constant presence in our lives will produce in us the ability to continue on the journey to live and to love in God's name. That is the promise of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is our joy. It is our hope. Thanks be to God.

Amen

(C) Deb Luther Teagan 2021

Sermon - The Day it Got Read (Transfiguration B)

 Transfiguration Sunday – Year B                Feb 14, 2021

Mark 9:2-9                        Panzer Liturgical Service

On this last Sunday before Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent begins, we see the disciples at a moment of transition. Before, each of the disciples dropped whatever they were doing to follow this compelling man, beginning a journey that would end up changing the world. Along the way they have seen miracles - Jesus feeding thousands with meager rations, Jesus walking on water, Jesus healing people of lifelong illnesses, even bringing a woman back from death. They have heard Jesus teach, calling the faith of the religious teachers into question. Ultimately, they learn that Jesus calls people to live lives of faith, not just follow the rules that some believe would get them into heaven.

But here, just before today’s scene, Jesus made a turning point first. In Mark 8, he speaks of his impending death. This is concerning to the disciples and Peter tries to rebuke Jesus, not understanding how or why this prediction could come true. But Jesus immediately sets Peter straight. "You do not have in mind the things of God, but the things of men (Mark 8: 33)." It is only a short time later that Jesus takes Peter, James, and John away to a high mountain away from the crowds. Here an amazing thing happened, for on that mountain they heard the voice of God and their lives were never again the same. This gave them a new understanding of who Jesus is… not Elijah, not just a prophet, but the Messiah, the Christ, the anointed one of God.

And because the experience was so momentous, Peter decides to preserve the moment by building altars, permanent places to come and worship, not just God, but their experience of God in this place. This would have been an acceptable practice for most Jews; Abraham, Moses, and Jacob each left an altar in the wilderness as a testimony of their encounters with God. But Jesus stops them in their tracks – there is no need to preserve the mountain for posterity and remembrance because Jesus is still here. He is not done with them yet.

I love photography – not so much candids or portraits, but of places and events that are significant to my story. I got through the March/April/May chapter of our current pandemic by going on a daily walk and taking pictures of how Spring was unfolding in spite of our ability to be out and about in it together. When I look at those pictures, I don’t see confinement. I see and feel the glory of God’s creation and I give thanks. 

But they will never be enough. It’s not that capturing our lives in film and talking or blogging about them is bad.  It’s a wonderful way to remember the amazing experiences we have in life. But first, we have to actually live in the moment of those experiences. As beautiful as they are, the photos and videos we take are a pale representation of what we experience. Travels, family, historic monuments… sacred or funny events… We can take all the pictures and videos we want, but they can never fully capture what life is all about. Living in the moment … soaking in all in… that’s what changes our understanding of the world, of the depth of our grief and our joy, our pain, and our love. Could it be that in our drive to preserve our lives we may actually be missing something even more monumental -- experiencing a God-given moment in time. 

Peter’s reaction is a great example of that. He sees Moses and Elijah standing with Jesus and thinks, “My life will never be the same after today. Let’s keep this moment alive forever.” It’s a moment so awe-inspiring and miraculous Peter never wants to leave, at least not without leaving a record of what happened there. Peter, of course, had no camcorder, no digital camera, no mobile phone to capture this extraordinary moment. He’s just a guy, on a mountaintop, trying to figure out how to make this memory permanent. 

In the beginning, walking with Jesus was about the promise of faith (1:16-20). Along the way, the disciples were sometimes sidetracked by misunderstandings and fear. Following Jesus was hard and required something new from them every day. And just when it looked like they might never understand, something happened that reminds them of who Jesus is and who he is calling them to be. 

Peter was absolutely awestruck. It was supposed to be a quiet retreat from the crowds, but instead, an extraordinary event unfolded. It was a moment so sacred that Peter lived up to his self-proclaimed title as Vice President in Charge of Doing Something. Building a booth or kiosk or shrine – whatever – to preserve the moment – that would totally fit the bill. Did he have a hammer and saw ready or a few fisherman's tools in his belt. We don’t know, but always remember that Peter was never one to let details get in the way of a dream. 

Before Peter could throw anything together, a cloud dimmed the moment, and out of it came a voice: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” (v. 7). God didn't say: “Get a shot of the three of them over by that cedar tree.” God didn't say, “Be sure to capture the moment!” or “Everybody say, ‘Cheese,” God just said, “Listen to him.” Like tourists who see Paris through their viewfinders, Peter, who wanted to keep the moment from passing, was in danger of passing the moment by. 

Mark's gospel tells us that Jesus took Peter, James, and John up to this mountain exactly six days after reminding them that “those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel will save it” (8:35). Turns out their mountaintop experience was a catalyst to help them understand that their lives would never be the same again.

Jesus’ words are aimed at us, too. Living a faithful life means asking what it looks like to lose our lives for Christ. And at the same time, we have to ask what will we lose if we forget that following Jesus is what life is all about? Do we ask ourselves enough, “What would Jesus have me do?”

God's advice is to us is the same as to Peter: “Listen.” Listen to the children, listen to life, listen for the sacred, seek the divine. Listen to Jesus. And then do as Jesus did. We see in the lesson that before the disciples could build their memorial to the moment, Jesus left. 

And down the mountain, he came upon a man. And the man had a son – a son who was sick, possessed of an evil spirit. And the disciples who were left behind had not been able to heal the boy. So, Jesus drove out the spirit, and although the crowd thought him dead, Jesus took the boy’s hand and helped him to his father’s side. And he continued to be with the people.

The glory of God's revelation in Jesus is seen in the midst of his work to bind up the brokenhearted, feed the hungry, and care for the sick. Putting the stories of the Transfiguration and the healing of this boy next to each other was no accident. The mountaintop experience and the healing down below connect Jesus' glory with the power to render broken lives whole. The awe-inspiring and the mundane life next to each other – think about the crucifixion and the resurrection – how much more of each can you get?

Jesus’ glory cannot be contained in a booth and set apart. It is instead a glory that is let loose in the world, one that seeks out people and places, one that calls for healing, wholeness, and restored relationships. As the disciples continued to follow Jesus on the way to and through Jerusalem, the cost of this glory became clear. But here in the middle of the story – in this transfiguration story – we are given a sneak peek of Jesus' identity as the Christ, and at that moment, there is hope for our own transformation, too. 

This was not the last hill Jesus climbed. The disciples followed him down, only to see him go up again, the last time carrying a cross. Every year, we are offered a period of time set apart to learn about the sacrificial death and glorious Resurrection of Jesus during the seasons of Lent and Eastertide. Through this grand story, we see the depth of God’s love for us. Jesus is the love of God personified – made flesh. He did not come only to inspire us to do good works, but also to prepare us to unite with the Father when our work here is done. 

The real question is this: What do we do with that good news, with this revelation? Do we file it away like an insurance policy, waiting until the end to collect on its benefits? Do we distill our faith down to one moment in time, which we display in a frame and remember fondly when we walk by?  Or is this good news a story we live out in our lives every day – sometimes in big ways, and sometimes in small ways – always striving to see Christ’s call in the decisions we make?

That is the challenge of the Transfiguration… to live transfigured lives, right here, right now… with and in the love of Christ. In this gospel, Jesus gives a preview of coming attractions both for the apostles and for us. It is a brief peek into the awesome power he commanded… a power that he was prepared to set aside in sacrifice for us. He, who stood clothed in brilliant light in the company of Moses and Elijah, would soon lay himself down… beaten, naked and alone… for our salvation.

In the words of the Father: Listen to him. In Jesus, we are saved. We are transfigured. Follow him to glory. God loves you no less than Moses or Elijah. He values you as a disciple no less than Peter, James, and John.  Make loving, praising, and thanking him the focal point of your day, of your life. And you will be transfigured, too. Thanks be to God!

Amen.

Sermon - Answering prayer (Epiphany 5B)

 5^th Sunday after Epiphany (B)                                                       February 7, 2021

Mark 1:29-39                                                                      Panzer Liturgical Service

Still, in the first chapter of Mark’s gospel, we see Jesus expanding not only the locale of his ministry but the kind of ministry he’s doing. Today, we move from Jesus’ exorcism of a demon-possessed man to a story of a different kind of healing. Gone is this picture of raw power. The healer we see today is up-close and personal, confident in the abilities he’s been given. We love this story because who doesn’t love a good healing story? People we love need healing. We need healing… we want and need it so badly, sometimes we can think of nothing else. And when we think “healing,” we think “prayer.” We’ll get to that in a minute.

But first, let’s look at some of the other things that we learn as we read this passage… they may seem small or insignificant, but every little piece of information verifies how Jesus is so very different from us, and yet exactly like us, too.

So, first thing this - who knew Peter was married? Why does this matter? I kind of think most folks tend to think of the disciples as, well, not like the rest of us. Surely there were cut from a different cloth, led very different lives, were destined to be Jesus’ disciples from the beginning, and generally were just plain different from plain old ordinary me. We put them up on pedestals as shining examples of how to follow Jesus. But when we do that, we forget or give small regard to all the normal things they did… and all the mistakes they made.

In reality, they fell short. They were not perfect. The work they did to hold together a small, ragtag group of believers was pretty remarkable, even miraculous, you might say. But it wasn’t their work alone. Remember, the Holy Spirit was present, often incognito, bringing people to Jesus, and then to the disciples, and soon enough, the Church was born. It’s easy enough to be in awe of them and say, “Wow, they were amazing to have started all of this,” when we can just as well say, “I can’t believe the Church was born despite all the mistakes they made along the way.”

The Peter who drops his nets and leaves his father and boats to follow Jesus – it’s hard to see ourselves in him. But the Peter in these verses, we can relate to him, because he has a mother-in-law… who is sick… and he’s worried about her… and so he asks Jesus for help.

He is, in other words, ordinary. Like us. Like us, he had high expectations of what Jesus might do. Like us, he was probably at the end of his rope, hoping again hope that Jesus might be able to rescue the family from a tragic loss. It feels like that’s how we bring people to Christ for healing… with high expectation and as a last resort, all at the same time.

Second, within this first chapter of Mark, we see the microcosm of Jesus’ entire ministry. Think about it – so far, we’ve seen him proclaim the good news of God’s coming kingdom, resist the forces of evil by casting out a demon, and heal the sick. We might get wrapped up in all the variations of these themes, but essentially, it all boils down to these. This rather focused mission statement – proclaim, heal, resist – should inform our own understanding of ministry – in our families, in our congregations, and in our communities.

In our Thursday evening study of the history of the Christian church, we are only two weeks in and we already see how the Church has grown and split, asking people to choose camps based on theology and polity. The Eastern and Western Churches split in 1054, in part, because they couldn’t come to a compromise on three little words in the Nicene Creed – “and the Son.” Yes, it was also about power and how the world was dividing itself philosophically and politically. But the Patriarch of Constantinople excommunicated the Pope, and vice versa, over the question of when the Holy Spirit entered the picture… as if they could even know.

They forgot the instructions that Jesus gave the disciples at his ascension – “Go into the world, make disciples, and baptize them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” The Church of the 11^th century was no longer in tune with the essence of Jesus’ ministry – proclaim, heal, resist… bring mercy, peace, and justice to all of God’s children. And it’s still a problem today.

Third, Jesus takes time to care for himself. He actually draws apart from the hustle and bustle of the busy household to pray, to withdraw, and tend to his own spiritual life – which seems to be surprising to the disciples, because they have a hard time locating him. I couldn’t help but notice their disposition – is it panic? – is it annoyance? – is it genuine curiosity? They say, “Everyone is searching for you…” In today’s lingo the question would be, “Mom, why are you in the bathroom so long?”

It’s been 11 months since we entered the COVID life… one day in March 2020, the normal rhythm of life was interrupted and we were asked to limit our interactions so that we could hopefully keep the virus from spreading. And how did we cope? I started reading more for fun. We took on activities that gave us comfort, like nurturing our sourdough starters or reading more books or starting new hobbies. We went on walks and upgraded to commercial-free Hulu.

Thinking like a pastor, I see in hindsight this could have been an opportunity to offer new or intentional prayer practices. But for many people, that didn’t happen. There are lots of reasons – most of us just transferred our work and school lives to our living rooms or home offices. As a church educator, I didn’t understand how long this process would last, and I’m sad we didn’t work to get more tools into people’s hands to grow in their faith lives, even while we were unable to worship together.

COVID fatigue has set in, and many of us can’t wait until we can be on the go again, but I should go back to the way things were before? Have we learned any lessons which will help us to become more vigilant in our spiritual discipleship? Many people found that sequestering themselves from their busy lives makes the process of prayerful conversation with God easier. But some found a spiritual connection with God in other ways – in nature and music and other pursuits too numerous to name. I am hopeful that in this year of 2021, that we will look for more ways to connect deeper with God, not as an additional thing to add to our “to do” lists, but to be reminded that communication with God is as important as the things we do to improve our physical health, our relationships with the people we love and serving God and our neighbors in the world.

Prayer is kind of a curious thing. It’s easy to think of prayer as a list of things we want and need – we could call them petitions – “here’s my issue, God, please fix it.” But prayer is also about thanksgiving. It’s about being reminded that God is God and I am not. It is about listening, which may be as easy or hard as resting in God’s presence. When our lives are very busy, they are also very noisy. Listening prayer quiets our souls, pushes out the competing voices in our heads, and helps us hear the necessary, and sometimes difficult, word that God shares with us. And it takes practice – with room for lots of failure along the way.

Fourth and finally, I find it fascinating that Mark says that “they brought all who were sick” and that Jesus “cured many who were sick.” I don’t know if this contrast is intentional, but right away I notice that Jesus didn’t seem to cure everyone who came to him. I think this is both instructive and very hard to hear. We all want the ones we love to be the ones that God heals. We want people to get well when they are sick. We want bad people punished and good people rewarded. We want the runaway disasters in our lives to be controlled. But that’s not how prayer works today, and I don’t think it worked that way for Jesus either.

But that doesn’t mean that God isn’t working among us, despite not answering prayers in the ways we need, expect, or demand. Many people turn away from God and Jesus because they see unanswered prayer as abandonment by God. But that is not my experience of unanswered prayer.

In the shadow of the many times I have prayed with people, I can only think of a handful where there was a memorable outcome – only one time that someone with terminal cancer received a clean bill of health, but then only for a little while. In fact, the most memorable answers to prayer often came in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes it felt like God said, “No.” Sometimes it was, “Let’s do this a different way.” And often, it took a long time to see God’s presence in the places we thought God forgot. Whether God was working undercover, or just in God’s own timing, we may never know how our prayers are answered, and we are called to trust God enough for that to be OK.

Here in Mark, it feels like there were probably many societal lines crossed as Jesus put out his hand and brought Peter’s mother-in-law to her feet. No word of forgiveness or call for repentance - Jesus just went to the fevered woman and brought her to her feet. “And [then] she began to serve them.” Here we can see that the blessing she received spilled out over the gathered crowd.

In the midst of our own healing, we are reminded that basking in its glory is not response enough. We are called to pay the gift forward… to be a healing blessing to others, in whatever ways we can. This is not our way of earning the gift, but instead our way of responding to the gift, with gratitude and thanksgiving and a willingness to be the answers to someone’s prayers.

On Saturdays, while Shawn is out putzing in the garage or working in the yard, I usually pull up my Spotify app and stream some music. This week, I ran across the soundtrack to the Broadway musical Come From Away. If you don’t know the story, it’s the story about the people of Gander, Newfoundland in Canada and how they welcome over 7000 visitors on the day of September 11, 2001. US airspace was closed and planes going to and from the US had to land as soon as possible. Here, 38 passenger planes landed, at one of the largest airports in North America, rendered obsolete by the advent of jetliners that no longer required last-minute fueling to make it across the Atlantic Ocean.

The day started for them just like it did for us – perfectly normal. But it didn’t take long for the folks of Gander to realize that life was about to get very interesting. The first call on the radio – for folks to help turn every public building into a place for these Plane People to eat and sleep. For 14 hours, Gander residents kicked into high gear, anxiously awaiting the first visitors to deplane.

Meanwhile, 7000+ passengers, crew, and pets were held on board for 14, 18, even 28 hours as security checks were made. People were afraid. They didn’t know what was happening in the US and didn’t know what would greet them when they stepped off of the planes. Islanders didn’t really know what to do, so they relied on their practical natures and donated and volunteered in ways that would give them a sense of peace and calm… Phones were made available to call home… prescriptions were filled by the local pharmacy… diapers and formula and hygiene products found their way to the people who needed them. And after two days they had to put out a plea over the radio to stop donating toilet paper because they didn’t have anywhere to store all that people had dropped off at the Lion’s Club.

The Islanders were an answer to prayer. They not only tried to fulfill the physical needs of the travelers – air traffic controllers with nothing else to do just kept making chili – but they also provided friendship, opening a space for people to pray in whatever tradition they followed. And they tried to help calm people’s fear.

There is one song that describes a busload of African travelers who didn’t speak English, terrified as they say uniformed soldiers all around. In reality, local folks had dusted off their Salvation Army uniforms to welcome the visitors there. As the travelers refused to get off the bus, the driver realized that someone was carrying a bible, and while he couldn’t read the language it was written in, he knew that the books would be in the same order, so he looked for a passage that would tell them it was OK to get off the bus. And when he found it – Philippians 4:6 – be anxious for nothing – the traveler with the bible smiled and lead his friends off the bus. At that moment, they spoke the same language.

We look at the struggles of the world and wonder when God is going to intervene. And the answer is often left up to us. We are the answer to someone’s prayers… when we sign up for a meal train for a sick family, or provide assistance to someone in need… or listen when others think that their cries will never be heard.

Prayer is not just saying the words… It’s also about receiving God’s answer and responding in ways we didn’t even know we could. So let us be like Peter’s mother-in-law – let us stand up from our healing and begin to serve. It’s a truly authentic way of giving thanks.

Peace, Deb

(c) Deb Luther Teagan - February 2021

Resources:

David Lose, In the Meantime… “Epiphany 5B: Jesus’ Ministry and Ours”, posted Feb 1, 2021, http://www.davidlose.net/2021/02/epiphany-5-b-jesus-ministry-and-ours/

Derek Weber, UMC Discipleship Ministries, “And She Began to Serve,” Lectionary preaching notes for Epiphany 5B https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/worship-planning/follow-me/fifth-sunday-after-the-epiphany-year-b-lectionary-planning-notes/fifth-sunday-after-the-epiphany-year-b-preaching-notes

Come From Away, Broadway musical - 2017  Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mdoyKYzkoI&feature=youtu.be 

Sermon - As One With Authority (Epiphany 4B)

 Year B - 4^th Sunday after Epiphany – January 31, 2021, Mark 1: 21*28

You all know by now that I’m all about context. And there are things about the gospel of Mark that we always have to keep in mind. First, it’s the earliest gospel written. It’s widely accepted that both Matthew and Luke used Mark as a framework for their telling of Jesus’ story, supplemented by an unknown source referred to as Q. While Matthew was written to a mainly Jewish audience and Luke to mainly Gentile Christians, Mark was written to the whole church, needed to set the story in writing before too many witnesses were gone and no longer able to tell the story.

Second, it’s the shortest of the four gospels. At only 660 verses, Mark doesn’t spend a lot of extra words talking about the whys and wherefores. Who, what, where? … that’s what Mark wants us to know. Mark hits the important highlights, informing us of the basic facts of Jesus’ ministry. 

And third, there is this underlying message of secrecy. Many times, Jesus tells the disciples, “Do not tell anyone about what you have seen.” We’ll talk about this more as the year progresses, but the question does arise, why would he do that? There are many ideas – maybe it’s the case of telling people not to do something, but knowing that they will anyway. But mixed in is the underlying reality that Jesus’ story is too big, too amazing, too true not to tell. And it’s not only the disciples doing the talking. Today we see a most unusual witness to the miraculous nature of Jesus’ identity, power, and authority.

It’s hard to believe we are still in the first chapter of Mark’s gospel. Contained within its verses are the beginnings of a different kind of ministry.  Think about what has happened so far… John the Baptist preaches about the coming of a Savior, sent by God.  He baptizes Jesus in the Jordan River. Jesus goes into the wilderness to be tempted – one of our first lessons during Lent. And when he comes back to civilization after John’s arrest, he begins calling the disciples.  And here in verses 21-28 he begins a ministry of teaching and healing.

In today’s lesson, Jesus preaches as one with authority, and frees a man of an unclean spirit.  And all Mark can say about the people is… “and they were all amazed… and his fame spread throughout all the region.”  No word of belief.  No descriptions of massive conversions.  No talk of outrage or anger at who Jesus claimed to be.  Just amazement, pure and simple.

And still, we get the point. Mark uses this story about Jesus and the beginnings of his ministry to talk about Jesus being one with authority. Through the power of his spoken word, and his ability to cleanse this man at the sound of his voice, Jesus’ identity as the One sent from God is being unveiled. 

Jesus makes one of his first stops in Capernaum, and when he gets to town, he shows up at the synagogue, steps into the place of authority, and begins to teach… that is a pretty brave way to step up. And not only that, but he confronts an unclean spirit, while he’s at it… that sounds like my worst nightmare, come to life. But Jesus, he claims the authority that he’s been given by God, and he steps up.

Jesus didn’t dazzle or trick the people into hearing the word of God in his message.  He did not muscle or bully the unclean spirit into leaving the man’s body.  In fact, the unclean spirit understood much more quickly than the crowd did about who Jesus was. They knew that Jesus’ authority was not that which he claimed for himself and then exacted on others at his will.  Jesus’ ability to teach and heal in the name of the Lord was recognized as a God-ordained gift by those who believed and followed him.  And people are amazed. And not just like, “Who does this guy think he is?” No, this is “WOW, he might be the one we were promised.

I imagine there were many regular synagogue goers there that day. They came, week in and week out to hear the Torah read and to take encouragement into their daily lives to keep following the Law. But this day was different. Jesus brought new meaning to the words that they had heard before. This wasn’t someone reading from a dusty sacred scroll. This was someone who spoke with authority and then followed by putting his authority to the test.

One last notion: In our current society, we aren’t sure what to do with this miracle. We wrestle with the idea of demonic possession, not because we don’t believe that there is evil in the world, but because we see for ourselves that this kind of behavior can often have a medical explanation. Biblical scholars from the last fifty years have jumped on that bandwagon. Some think the unexplainable only confuses the issues related to Jesus and his ministry.

But evil does exist, and there are other demons besides non-human entities that possess even the best of us… greed, pride, fear, jealousy, hatred… pushed to their limits, these can fuel the evil we see in everyday life. These kinds of behavior assume that the world revolves around us and our needs, and pushes away the needs of others as unimportant or even detrimental to our own identities and existence.

These sins are called deadly for a reason – they focus our attention on personal gain and position rather than on the one who created and calls us to cede authority to him. They cause us to cast aside the structures and authorities we have relied on in order to frame the world in a particular way. They lure us off the path of righteousness and back into the darkness, and away from the light.

We are people called to be in community with one another. But in reality, we are connected to many kinds of communities. We align ourselves with different groups throughout the course of our lives.  We are members of different families, students and graduates of different schools, members of different branches of the military, or workers in different directorates, battalions, and professions. But at the center of all of those competing claims is claim the Christian community has on us… not as members of different branches of Christianity’s family tree, but as brothers and sisters in Christ, all called to love and serve him, and through him, one another.

This lesson is difficult because it opens the door to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions. What or who has authority over our lives? What controls our actions and reactions?  In the end, the most important question for us as Christians is this one: Is Christ at the top of the list? Do we accept the authority he has over us as believers and followers of him?

A lot of wars have been fought between fellow Christians over the years. Some of those fights were and are over perceived differences in how we are called to believe in and worship God. Some of those fights are over things that seem entirely unrelated, seeking to claim power over others before they can claim it over us. We fight because we are afraid of change.

The demonic spirit in Mark’s gospel is smarter than us. It knows that things are about the change: “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” We, too, must ask that question. “What will you do with us, Lord? What change will you require?” Eventually, we learn important lessons: with change comes surrender, and with surrender comes transformation. We ask if Jesus has come to destroy us, destroy our lifestyle, destroy our image of ourselves, our self-confidence, our self-dependence. Maybe the answer is yes, but we are not left the pick up the pieces all by ourselves. This kind of change wipes the slate clean and allows us to begin again.

We are people on a journey of transformation, and it isn’t always easy. Becoming disciples is hard work. It means setting aside the comfortable things that weigh us down. It means handing over the reins of our lives so that we can be led into a wholeness that we could never have imagined. All this is necessary so that we can proclaim wholeness to the broken world around us. It’s the very reason we exist.

Amen.

Let us pray:

What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? What changes are you making in us and among us? How are you recruiting us for the task of overcoming evil, ending oppression, bringing justice to an unjust world?

That sounds scary, Lord. That sounds like something we can’t do alone.

We ask you to bring us into community together, so that we can commit our lives to the work of your kingdom. We are yours, Lord; we commit ourselves to you again, right here, right now. Amen.

 

·      https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-after-epiphany-2/commentary-on-mark-121-28-5

·      https://www.pulpitfiction.com/notes/epiphany4b

·      https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/worship-planning/follow-me/fourth-sunday-after-the-epiphany-year-b-lectionary-planning-notes

·      https://mailchi.mp/christiancentury/sc-free-350975a-351612?e=a9151c0052