Gospel of Mark

Faith and Technology

Mark 5:21-43

When [Jesus] had crossed again to the other side, a great crowd gathered around him and he was by the sea. Then a man named Jairus, a leader of the synagogue, came and fell before him and begged him repeatedly, “My little daughter is at the point of death. Come and lay your hands on her so that she may be made well and live.” So he went with him. And a large crowd followed him and pressed in on him.

Now, there was a woman who had suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians and was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, so she came up behind him and touched his cloak, for she said, “If I but touch his clothes I will be made well.” Immediately her hemorrhage stopped and she felt, in her body, that she had been healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus said to the crowd, “Who touched my clothes?” His disciples said to him, “You see the crowd pressing in on you. How can you say, ‘Who touched me?’” But Jesus looked around to see who had done it. And the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came to him with fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. Jesus said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace and be healed of your disease.”

While he was still speaking, some people came from the leader’s house and said to him, “Your daughter is dead. Why trouble the teacher any further?” Overhearing them, Jesus said to him, “Do not fear, only believe.” And he allowed only Peter, James, and John, the brother of James, to follow him. As he approached the leader’s house, he saw a great commotion, people weeping and wailing loudly. When he entered the house, he said to them, “Why do you make a commotion and weep? The child is not dead, only sleeping?” And they laughed at him. He put them all out of the house and took the child’s mother and father, and those who had come with him, into the place where the child was. He took her by the hand and said to her, “Talitha cum,” which means “little girl, get up,” and the girl got up and began to walk about. (She was twelve years of age.) At this, they were filled with amazement and Jesus ordered them sternly that no one should know about this. Then he told them to give her something to eat.


I heard an interview the other day with Ray Kurzweil. He’s a computer scientist, author, entrepreneur, inventor, and “futurist.” He was described as Google’s “main AI guy,” too, who lives and works and writes about a world that is relatively foreign to me, except for the fact that it impacts more aspects of my daily life – and yours – than I am often aware of. As a computer scientist, for example, he is involved with stuff like text-to-speech synthesis and speech recognition technology. Again, things I don’t understand and can’t comprehend the science behind, but that are part of my daily life in millions of ways. (For instance, I’m not there yet, but my wife Christa, has begun texting exclusively by simply speaking into her phone, rather than typing with her fingers and her phone’s tiny keypad.)

Anyway, according to Wikipedia, Ray Kurzweil writes books about health and technology, artificial intelligence, and transhumanism. From what I can tell, “transhumanism” has something to do with the notion – and likelihood – according to people like him, that in just the next twenty years, we will become something of a hybrid species, where our bodies and our brains will “merge,” as he puts it, with Artificial Intelligence and with the Cloud to the point that, not only will we have more direct access to a vast and growing amount of information, but we will get to a place where we simply have to think about some of the things we currently do – like sending a text message, I suppose – and those things will just happen for us.

This sounds crazy to me. And some of what he’s predicted about it all is downright scary, to be honest. But he’s apparently been studying and making predictions about such technological advances since the late 1990’s. And he’s been right. For instance, he predicted way back then – before the iPhone, before social media, and before Google, even, as we know it – that, by 2029, AI would achieve human level intelligence.

And, think about it, with five years still to go before that deadline … with the fact that you can this morning ask AI anything at all about philosophy, psychology, physics, and even theology, and get solid answers … and with the Cloud doubling its capacity for information every two years … it seems he might be right again, that human level intelligence in something other than human beings is likely – and coming soon.

And what in the world, you might be asking, does this have to do with Jesus – walking and boating and healing his way around Galilee – in First Century Palestine?

Well, I’ve been stewing, for quite some time now, about how surprisingly relevant and meaningful I find the Gospel to be, in general, in light of the way this kind of technology is advancing in the world and in our lives. All of this “Artificial Intelligence” is one piece of it, for sure. I also think about the way “virtual reality” and “remote working” and “distance learning” and “online worship” have become such necessary, meaningful, ordinary parts of our lives of late.

(How many of you – like me – have done any of those things in the last month or so – worshiped online, worked remotely, took a class or attended a meeting via Zoom or something like it? How many of us were doing that as frequently, if at all, just five years ago?)

Well today’s Gospel – and Ray Kurzweil’s predictions – had me thinking about all of this more deeply from a faith perspective.

Again, Jesus is doing his thing… preaching, teaching, healing … being followed around by disciples and throngs of curious, if not devoted, followers … being put upon by strangers to do their bidding … like the man whose daughter is dying and like the woman whose been sick and hemorrhaging for 12 years.

And what if those First Century followers represent a microcosm of the wants, needs, desires, and demands of humanity on the God of our creation. What if Jesus was like a walking, talking, living, moving, breathing manifestation of the hub for healing and hope and answers that God means to be for the world?

Never mind the hypothetical nature of that … Jesus shows today that he WAS and IS the walking, talking, living, moving, breathing manifestation of the healing and hope and answers and salvation God means to be for the world. It’s the theology of the incarnation, after all. Emmanuel … God with us… God among us… On earth as it is in heaven…if you will.

And Jesus does his thing – not from a distance, not remotely, not “virtually” in any way. That bleeding woman knew it. She just needed to get close enough to touch the hem of his robe. And she felt, in her body, that something had changed because of it. And Jairus knew it, too. He approached Jesus, asked him to lay hands on his little girl, and brought him to his home. And Jesus didn’t phone it in. He found the girl, took her by the hand, spoke to her, and told the onlookers to give her something eat, in the end. All of this was as up close and as personal as God’s love always was, is, and promises to be.

Now, at the risk of sounding like a “get off my lawn,” anti-technology, grumpy old man, I find great hope and challenge and call in this, for those of us who want to follow Jesus. For me, it’s why the Gospel is as relevant and as radical and as counter-cultural, for our day and age, as it always has been.

It’s why what we do here together in worship matters – choosing to gather as the body of Christ in a world that is fractured and divided in so many ways, I mean. In spite of our differences, we sing songs, we pray prayers, we make our confession and hear very real words of forgiveness, and we touch the common waters of the baptism that binds us together in the same name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. There’s nothing “virtual” about what takes place for and among us here.

It’s why eating bread and drinking wine as part of this worship matters, too. We are fed and nourished in physical, tangible, bodily ways that fill and change us by grace, from the inside out. There’s nothing artificial about the way God’s love comes to us through the sharing of Holy Communion.

It’s why our Stephen Ministry program is such a faithful, powerful expression of care and compassion for those who engage it. It’s one-on-one, face-to-face, in-person sharing, listening, loving companionship for people who need it. You can’t Google that.

It’s why building actual houses that provide real shelter for families in Haiti… It’s why providing actual food that feeds hungry people through our Groceries of Grace food pantry… It’s why crying real tears at a funeral… laughing with real joy at a wedding… offering a hand and a smile when we share the peace… sharing a “Mom Hug” at the PRIDE parade… all of that matters for real.

I’m not saying there isn’t value and promise to be found in all the technological advances coming our way. I’m just saying our faith – and the human love and connection we know in Jesus still matters – and matters more than all of that, in the end. Even Ray Kurzweil, the futurist with all the predictions I mentioned before, acknowledges that AI will never be able to create art, for instance, the way a master artist would do.

I would add, that nothing artificial, inhuman, or disembodied – no matter how full of information it may be – will ever be able to replace the forgiveness, love, mercy, and grace offered by the God we know in Jesus, which means to inspire and compel more of the same from each us …

… you and I, who are called to let ourselves be touched, like that woman who touched Jesus, by the very real needs of our neighbors.

… you and I, who are called to hear the good news of our own salvation – and find ways to share it, out loud and by our actions, with others who need to hear it, too.

…you and I, who are called to be fed and to feed the needs of those around us with very real food and drink, very real love and forgiveness, very real grace and mercy … by our very real presence … living and moving and breathing … as nothing less than the body of Christ … in and for the sake of the world.

Amen

Storm Stories

Mark 4:35-41

On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side. And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him.

A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.

He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’


We all have a storm story. Here’s mine. Several years ago, Katelyn and I went camping in upstate New York. We were most excited about renting a boat and fishing on this small lake. And here’s us in our boat, just as we began fishing. Now it wasn’t big, just a simple row boat. Which means I rowed and Katelyn fished. And Katelyn is a really good fisherman but not so good at taking the fish off. So by the time I got us to a good spot, she would have already caught multiple fish, which I had to remove.

I rarely had a chance to toss out my own line before moving to another spot. Finally we got to a spot on the far side of the lake where we had our anchor down, bait on the hooks, lines out, and ready to reel 'em in. Then, the wind kicks up and dark clouds start moving in. We hear thunder and its pretty close. So we both agree we should make our way back across the lake to the docks. We reeled in our lines and I started rowing. I rowed for maybe 15 minutes, but I wasn’t getting very far.

The wind is really picking up now and those clouds were nearly on top of us. So I rowed harder and harder, but with each stroke forward, I felt like the wind picked up just a little bit faster, pushing us backward. At this point we are only half way across the lake and the heavens could rip open at any moment.

Both of us are scared, I’m tired from rowing as fast as I can, and rain is starting to collect in our boat. I started rowing like a mad man against the wind, cursing at the paddles and this boat for not going faster, when Katelyn said to me “just take a break for a second and catch you breath.

So, I said to her “okay, put the anchor down so we don’t drift backward”... and then it dawned on us: the anchor was down the whole time. I had drug this cement filled coffee can clear across this whole lake. When I pulled it up, 10 pounds of seaweed covered the can. I was outraged at the situation: the rain, the boat, the anchor! Katelyn, though, was beside herself in laughter, nearly in tears at how funny it all was. I rowed us to the dock and we made it to the car just as the hail began.

Katelyn has always been good humored, able to laugh at herself and situations outside her control. I get frustrated, impatient with the wind and waves that arise in life. Our literal storm experience mirrored our lived experience. There’s nothing like a storm to teach you about the people who are in your boat, yourself included.

At first, Jesus doesn’t seem to be the person you want in your boat when the storm hits. He’s been preaching and teaching all day, using the same boat as a pulpit. So I’m not surprised at all that he’s sleeping on a cushion at the front of the boat.When the wind kicks up and the waves start crashing, the disciples seem more than a little frustrated that Jesus isn’t acting like a concerned friend, let alone a messiah.

But I don’t blame them for being scared and perhaps angry. It must have been a pretty bad storm if at least four, maybe more, professional fishermen who had spent a lifetime fishing and sailing on that lake were scared to death. They knew the dangers of the sea of galilee, especially at night. I imagine they warned Jesus of such things before they left the shore. No wonder they yelled at Jesus, do you not care that we are perishing?

Do you not care that we are perishing? Is there anyone who hasn’t yelled that question at Jesus? If there was ever a shared sentiment between us and the disciples, it's that question.

It’s a sense of abandonment. It’s feeling like you are drowning and God is nowhere to be found, panicking that your boat of life is taking on water and Jesus is asleep at the stern and for whatever reason you can’t rouse him no matter how hard you cry or pray. You are not alone in feeling that way.

We all have a storm story: the doctor giving a diagnosis you never wanted to hear, the day after a beloved’s funeral, your child telling you her marriage is over, the accident you never saw coming. Like the fishermen, we know the damage they can do. So don’t feel bad for yelling at Jesus. So much in the Hebrew Bible is the Psalmist or a prophet lamenting over the same thing.

As Nadia Bolz Weber puts it, it’s no sin to hold God’s feet to the fire and ask, “Why have you abandoned me?”

To the disciple’s great relief, Jesus wakes from his nap and, with three words, he makes the wind stop and a great calm come over the waters. He turns to the disciples and has the audacity to ask, “why are you afraid?” As if taking on water in a shambly first century boat wasn’t reason enough. But then Jesus asks a harder question, “Have you still no faith…”

In other words, don’t you trust me yet? I think the fear Jesus can get over. It’s human, innate to fear. But to show no measure of trust, that’s what Jesus seems disappointed at. Because by this time in Mark’s story, the disciples have spent some good time with Jesus. They have witnessed him doing some pretty miraculous things: casting out unclean spirits, restoring a withered hand, healing a leper, and mending the health of one of their own mothers. They’ve heard his teaching; heard others call him the Son of God, yet how quickly they seem to forget all of that.

In the Psalms, the psalmist writes about how God commands the sea to storm and to cease.

The disciples, or at least the first hearers of Mark’s gospel, would have known that only God has power over the waters. In controlling the winds and the waves, Jesus shows them once again who he is, he is the Son of God, the savior, fully divine living among them.

It took a storm for them to see again who Jesus was. And really the disciples still don’t see it or really get it. All throughout Mark, they constantly get it wrong about who Jesus is and what he’s there to do. But could we not say the same thing about ourselves? Have we not been witnesses to some pretty miraculous things? Have we not been in a boat taking on water and yet somehow arrived safely to the other side?

Faith is having trust in the savior who is right there, in the boat with you. We will be fearful of the storms that come up in life, but faith is choosing to trust Jesus in the moment in spite of the storm.

Notice that disciples didn’t have glass waters to sail across. Even though Jesus was in the boat with them, the storm still came. Bad, hard, even terrible things happen in this life. And people will try to say that if you just prayed enough, or had enough faith, or had the right kind of faith, then these things wouldn’t happen. That, friends, is a lie. Having faith is no guarantee or promise that storms won’t arise. The promise is that Jesus is in there with you.

And look I get that there are still all sorts of questions: why doesn’t Jesus stop the storms from happening in the first place? Why are some storms just so bad? And if God controls the waters, who's responsible for the storm? We could try to answer all these, and many have, but that gives no comfort or relief to someone who feels like they're perishing. Instead, sit beside them when the wind kicks up and the waves crash and let Jesus show you who he is once again.

Because there’s nothing like a storm to teach you about the people who are in your boat, Jesus included.

Amen.