Psalm 23
Mark
6:30-34, 53-56
Kingsway
Christian Church
July 19,
2015
When I was a child, we had a brick fire place in the backyard
where my father burned trash and garbage. One morning my father was emptying
trash cans into a blazing fire. I was about five years old. A metal pipe was
sticking up out of the flames and it appealed to me. I reached out and grabbed
it, closing my fingers around the hot metal. I screamed in pain. My mother came
running outside and put butter on my hand. She gave me an aspirin and we sat
together until the pain subsided. She loved to tell people what I said as I sat
beside her and sobbed… “Oh, Mama! That’s two important lessons I’ve learned
now. One: Don’t ever grab things out of the fire. And Two: Oh, Mama! I’ve
already forgotten the second lesson!”
When we look back over the important lessons we’ve learned in
life, isn’t it usually associated with some kind of suffering, illness, injury,
a loss or a dispute? Nobody wants to suffer but everybody does suffer.
Life involves suffering. Just being born into this life is
frightening and painful. Babies cry first thing after they are born and those
of us who have been here a while sigh with relief. “Ah, she is alive! She is
now suffering with us.” Each of us deals with suffering in our own way.
Last year, in the United States, doctors performed over 15
million cosmetic procedures. Nearly 13 billion dollars were spent on breast
augmentations, nose jobs, lipo and face lifts. We do whatever we can afford to
do in an effort to deny that we are aging, to avoid the look of suffering. *
An estimated 100 million Americans suffer from chronic pain.
There is a rising tide of addiction to prescription pain killers that has touched
nearly every corner of our country. The problem can be found in thriving cities
like San Francisco, Chicago and New York.
But the epidemic is harder to manage in rural and more isolated areas
where poverty leaves residents particularly vulnerable and with substandard
healthcare systems. ** We do what we can to avoid suffering. Nobody wants to
hurt.
In my life and in my experiences of suffering I have learned
two important lessons. And fortunately I remember them both at the moment…One: Don’t
ever grab things out of the fire. And Two: Trying to deny or escape suffering
brings its own kind of pain.
Look at us. We like to think of ourselves as self-sufficient. We
enjoy believing that our lives are grounded in an order that makes sense, a
routine that is dependable and under our control. And yet we come here; we gather in this
place, this beautiful church with its lovely sanctuary, to connect with the
grace of God and to be honest about our need for the compassion of Jesus. We come
here to be healed. I can relate to the
weariness of the disciples and I can also see myself among those who press in
for a touch, for healing. We live in both places because being Christian, being
faithful, being committed isn’t a vaccine against suffering.
In today’s gospel reading we see the twelve disciples
returning to Jesus. They had been out teaching, preaching and healing. Jesus looks
with compassion at the fatigue on their faces and he directs them to get away
and rest. But before that can happen, the crowds recognize Jesus and his
disciples. They press in. Jesus looks with compassion on their suffering. He
attends to the needs of the crowd. We imagine the disciples also rolled up
their sleeves and got to work, in spite of their fatigue, attending to the
needs of that crowd. Wherever Jesus was became the place of compassion and the
crowd recognized that. This happens twice. And you can imagine the disciples
wondering about their benefits package. Wasn’t there any vacation time in that
agreement they signed?
It is as if we are to get two important lessons from this
reading: One: Jesus values Sabbath rest. His compassion recognizes that his
disciples cannot meet the needs of others without being restored themselves.
Two: Jesus’ compassion compels him to meet the needs of others when they come
for help. And so it is that the disciples must be honest about their own suffering
and humbly acknowledge that they belong to the crowd, the needy people pressing
in, begging. I see the weary disciples kneeling and reaching to touch the fringe
of Jesus’ cloak.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He restores my
soul…” We know the Twenty-third Psalm so well that it rolls off our tongues. We
memorized the verses when we were children in Bible School. We teach the verses
to our children and grandchildren. It is so familiar that we can easily miss
the power in it: He restores my soul.
An eighteenth-century spiritual director, Jean Pierre de
Caussade, wondered how we as human beings can know what God wants us to do, what
God expects from us, in any given moment. Are we to rest now or keep on
working? De Caussade concluded that God reveals Godself in each moment: in our
rest, in our play, in our work and in our suffering. God is present and it is
our duty and privilege to discern, to surrender ourselves to that compassionate
presence. He wrote: “Everything turns to bread to nourish me, soap to wash me,
fire to purify me, and a chisel to fashion me in the image of God. Grace
supplies all my needs.” ***
The good shepherd provides pastures with fresh water and green
grass for all of his sheep, a place of compassion where all souls are restored.
That is what the church can be. A place people recognize as a place of
compassion. The place where people come to touch the fringe of his cloak. To be
comforted and healed with us. We are
not always the givers. The crowd has much that we need to receive. There is no us and them in the shepherd’s green
pastures.
My partner, Anna, and I had the privilege this week of touring
St Jude Children’s Hospital. We met so many nice people. Even the guard at the
front gate was exceptionally helpful and kind. The place is cheerful, brightly
colored with interesting art on the walls. We heard lots of good stories while
we walked from building to building and while we ate lunch in the cafeteria. We
heard about mothers who come to the front desk with desperation in their eyes
and a sick child at their side. The receptionist at the front desk has seen
mothers empty out their purses, saying, “Take it. Take everything I have. Just,
please, do something to help my child.” And the receptionist has the privilege
of responding with compassion and generosity. “Keep your purse. We won’t need
your money.”
A place where people come for healing, mercy. A place known
for its compassion.
I saw a Danny Thomas quote on one of the walls: “Success has nothing
to do with what you gain in life or accomplish for yourself. It is what you do
for others.”
The successful church is recognized as a place of compassion,
a place where all people recognize their need to touch the fringe of Jesus’ cloak.
A place where all souls can be restored.
Amen
*“Nip. Tuck. Or Else.” Time Magazine, June 29, 2015
**“The Price of Relief” Time Magazine, June 15, 2015
***Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 3, Pentecost and
Season After, Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, page 262