In and Of Itself

Mark 1:29-39

As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

That evening, at sunset, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

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I have been wondering when or how or if I would ever find a way to tell you all about this thing I saw on HULU a couple of weeks ago. I call it a “thing” very deliberately, because I don’t know exactly how to describe it. It is a beautiful, compelling, experience of a “thing” – a piece of performance art, for sure. It is a series of stories told from one man’s perspective and also includes actual magic – card tricks, illusions, sleight-of-hand, kind of stuff – which is why I thought about it when I read about Jesus and this morning’s miracles and healings.

Anyway, this “thing” I’m talking about is called “In and of Itself,” and it was produced by Stephen Colbert and his wife, and created by Frank Oz – the master of The Muppets – and it was written and performed by some guy named Derek DelGaudio, who you’ve probably never heard of until now. And the thing about it all is that that’s about all I can tell you about this “thing,” this “show,” this “movie,” this “performance.” Because if I were to tell you any more I would spoil the magical, psychological, spiritual, mysterious experience of it and I don’t want to do that. So, consider this a pastoral public service announcement to give yourself 90 minutes – the whole 90 minutes – of uninterrupted time to see what I’m talking about. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. (If you are disappointed, I’ll beg your forgiveness later.)

But again, all of this – “In and of Itself” and the magic and the mystery of it all – had me thinking about Jesus and his miracles – about his curing the sick and casting out demons like he was wont to do. And it made me think about how we live as Christians in the world in relationship with and in reaction to these stories of Jesus and his mysterious, magical, miraculous ways.

Unfortunately, it seems we Christians sometimes feel like we have to pick a side and figure things out when it comes to such things. For some, whether you believe the magic of it all, or not, determines the strength or weakness of your faith. Maybe you buy it – hook, line, and sinker – the magic and the miracles of Jesus. Maybe you’re more cynical and skeptical and certain there’s a logical explanation to all of that. Maybe you’re somewhere in the middle – like me – and the strength of your faith in those miracles comes and goes, if you have to be perfectly honest.

Whatever the case, it seems clear Jesus didn’t want our faith to rest entirely on the presence of magic or in the practice of miracles. (He wouldn’t have asked people to keep his miracles and healings quiet, as he often did, if that were the case.) Of course, he didn’t want faith to be lost in the absence of that sort of mystery and miracle, either.

So, I like to think Jesus was as amazed and as surprised and maybe even a bit confused about what was happening to him and through him back in Galilee. He wasn’t a magician or a performer, after all, so I wonder if he expected that fever to leave Simon’s mother-in-law when he touched her. What if he was just trying to comfort his friend’s mother-in-law by taking her hand in his? And I wonder if he expected the demon to leave the possessed man we heard about last week when he spoke to him in the synagogue. What if he was just trying to offer a calming voice, and some comfort, to someone who was unsettled and unsettling to everyone around him?

I wonder if what everyone was calling “miracles” were just as curious and just as unexpected and just as awe-inspiring to Jesus himself, so that he was driven out to deserted places – like he was in this morning’s Gospel story. And I wonder if he was as skeptical or cynical or terrified and uncertain, perhaps, about what was happening that he just had to be alone to wonder and pray about what in the world God was doing with him.

Jesus never seems to be as consumed or as wrapped-up in or as concerned with how God was working miracles in the world like Simon and his companions, who hunted him down in this morning’s Gospel, might have been; or like “everyone” in Capernaum who was searching for Jesus that next day; or like we – so many generations later – still seem to be so consumed so much of the time. It seems to me we worry too much about WHO and HOW and not enough about WHY when it comes to Jesus and his miracles and the way these stories are told in the Bible.

See, more than miracles, more than healings, more than casting out demons, Jesus was about telling God’s story to whoever would hear it. He was about proclaiming and promising the love of God for all people. He was about sharing grace and mercy and compassion and good news. That is, after all, the message to be found in and through and because of every one of his miraculous acts of healing, I believe: the promise of forgiveness, the offering of compassion, the expression of mercy, the gift of new life.

What Jesus couldn’t wait to tell people is that we are loved and forgiven and welcomed in the face of our fevers and in spite of our fears; even though we have demons and diseases; and whether we’ve witnessed or received a miracle or not. That’s why he didn’t want to sit around Simon’s house. That’s what – I imagine – kept him up nights, what woke him early some mornings, what drove him out to pray in deserted places … and what inspired him to hit the road.

Jesus knew that his charge – that the call of every disciple and every one of his followers – was to get up and go out and to proclaim that message in synagogues, in homes, in marketplaces; at bedsides, to family and friend and neighbor and stranger…

Because for every fever that breaks – there’s one, somewhere, that doesn’t.

For every cure that comes – there’s another that will not.

For every demon that leaves or is quieted or cast out – there are legions that stick around and seem to win the day for too many.

And for my money, that’s why Jesus showed up – and why God calls us to show up – for the sake of the world, too: To care for the ones who don’t get the cure they’re after… To comfort the ones who are beset by burdens that never seem to get lifted… To be the answer to prayer for someone who would never expect such an answer to be shaped like you or me.

Which brings me back to that “thing” I told you about earlier – that show, that movie, that performance, whatever it is, called “In and of Itself,” on HULU. I don’t want to tell you too much more about it, not just because no one likes a spoiler but because it’s hard to explain and something you just have to see and experience to understand.

And the Good News of God’s love can be the same way. Which is why we’re called to speak of it, to share it, to become and to embody it – like Jesus did for our sake – so that others might know… and be blessed… and better… and loved in surprising, transforming, life-giving ways because of the grace we share.

That, in and of itself, is the stuff of miracles, if you ask me. And it’s holy work to which each of us is called in Jesus’ name for the sake of the world.

Amen

Purpose Driven Puppy

Mark 1:14-20

After John was arrested, Jesus came from Galilee proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled. The kingdom of God has come near.  Repent. And believe in the good news.”

As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fisherman. He said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately, they left their nets and followed him. As he walked a little farther, he saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John, in their boat mending the nets. Immediately, he called them and they left their father in the boat with the hired men and followed him.

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We have engaged a pretty serious training regimen for our new puppy Rosie – something I’ve never done with any other dogs in my life. She’ll be a year-old in March and she spent a week away from home at a place called “Purpose Driven K9” a few weeks ago, learning how to do a few things – like “heel,” which means to walk in-stride, always to the left, and slightly behind the person who is holding her leash. And she’s learning to “auto-sit,” too, which means that when her person stops walking, not only does she stop walking, but she sits without her human having to say or do much to encourage it. And she’s also learning to “place,” or to “stay” in one spot – and be glad about it, too.

If you’ve ever met a puppy – especially a puppy named Rosie, who lives at my house – you can imagine that the idea of staying in “place” – and being glad about it – is a pretty high bar.

All of it is in service to, what her trainers and the program call, achieving “Coffee Shop Mentality.” “Coffee Shop Mentality” is achieved when your dog can sit still, maintain a relaxed state of mind and a calm presence – even out and about in the world – sitting at the coffee shop, perhaps, in spite of whatever dogs or people or squirrels might be around to otherwise tempt and distract and excite them.

But it all seems to begin with following. So, of course, today’s Gospel brought it to mind.

Jesus is out and about, rounding up followers and, unlike Rosie, James and John and Simon and Andrew just seem to follow, to do what they’re told, right out of the gate. No cynical questions, like Nathanael asked last week, when he first met Jesus. (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”)  No hesitation that – Mark’s Gospel reports, anyway. No tangible end-game, either, really – except for this strange promise of “fishing for people,” which isn’t really all that tempting a lot of days is it? (Sometimes I’d rather just fish for fish, or nothing at all.)

But Jesus seems to simply walk on by, extend the invitation, and those first disciples follow him. They “heel,” if you will. Like perfectly trained, purpose driven puppies.

And what I love about Jesus is the same thing I wondered about when I saw the handful of dogs in Rosie’s obedience class – every one of them different from the next and nothing but a bunch of mutts. We’re not exactly sure what Rosie is … some mix of black lab and German Shepherd, we were told. Her canine classmates included one possibly purebred Husky, but otherwise the breed or pedigree of the other hounds was unclear to me. Again, nothing but a bunch of mutts as far as I could tell.

And Jesus’ disciples weren’t much to crow about when it came to pedigree, either. Fishermen, tax collectors, some women who never even get named right out of the gate. But, just like any good dog trainer, Jesus seems to think he can work with anyone – and that everyone has something to learn, some way to grow, something to offer with a little guidance, some inspiration, a good example, and a whole lot of love.

And I think that’s because the time had come near for him. Like Jonah in our Old Testament reading, so many generations before, Jesus was calling anyone who would listen to pay attention to what was going on in their lives and in the world around them, to recognize their part in it, and to repent, to change, to be transformed by the Good News God was trying to bring to bear upon the world, instead.

See, Jonah was driven to speak out against the wickedness and evil and violence among the people of Ninevah.

Jesus was moved by much of the same, and motivated by the arrest of his friend John the Baptist. He was feeling the call upon his life from that day down by the river, when he was declared “beloved,” and “Son of God,” and “the one with whom God was well pleased.” So, Jesus was moved to help that Good News come to pass, to get the ball of God’s grace for the sake of the world rolling in a new, big, abundant sort of way.

And there’s enough in our lives and plenty going on in the world that I hope moves us to want to live more faithfully, to recognize more honestly our part in the brokenness that surrounds us. As hard as it can be to acknowledge and admit, we are the people of Ninevah, I believe, with plenty of wickedness and evil and violence for which to repent and long to repair. (I’ll spare you the litany of those specifics for now. I feel like I’ve been banging that drum enough lately.)

But, like those first disciples by the sea (and like my dog, Rosie, too), our ability to change and to be changed, to be transformed and to find and live into our purpose, begins with following.

In the face of all that surrounds us, we stay close… and behind… and keep our eyes trained on our master.

We stop every once in a while and we listen carefully for the next command – because there are so many distractions and temptations to do otherwise.

And sometimes God leads us to green, peaceful pastures and beside still waters. 

Sometimes there are mountains and sometimes there are valleys. There are rough places and straight paths, too.

Sometimes God leads us into the center of Ninevah or toward no place we’d recognize or choose if we could.

Sometimes God leads us through sickness and fear and grief and gladness.

But the hope and point of it all, is that God is always leading and always calling us to follow. And God has already arrived and is always waiting, too, in whatever lies ahead for us.

So I’ve decided our “coffee-shop mentality” as Rosie’s trainer calls it, is something, like what it means to live and to be in the world, but not of the world as people of Good News: to know and understand and be grateful for our place in the grip of God’s grace, such that the hardships and challenges and temptations that surround us don’t have the power to unsettle or tempt or distract so much that we lose our focus on where God is leading:

Always home. Always toward mercy and forgiveness and redemption. Always in the name of Jesus, the one who calls us and leads the way, first – even through death and the grave, so that we might follow him with obedience, faith, and hope toward resurrection and new life in his name.

Amen