Somebody Somewhere

Mark 6:1-13

Jesus left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him.

Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their own hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, expect that he laid hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages, teaching. And he called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and he gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money for their belt; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics.

He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

---

There is a great, strange, quiet little show on MAX called “Somebody Somewhere.” It’s got a serious Schitt’s Creek vibe to it in my opinion, but not many people know about it, from what I can tell. It came to mind as I fumbled around with this week’s Gospel, because “Somebody Somewhere” tells the story of a woman named Sam who returns to her hometown, somewhere in the cornfields of Kansas, to take care of her dying sister. Her family – broken and struggling in so many ordinary ways with sibling rivalry and addiction and aging parents and broken marriages – needs her help, too – whether any of them know it or not.

The short of the long is that Sam connects with an old classmate she doesn’t even remember, but should have known in high school, and the show is the story of their friendship and the underlying buzz of what it means for Sam to be back – as an outsider in her own family and as a stranger in her own hometown.

And, while it’s not at all the main focus of the show, the notion of what a truly inclusive, welcoming, loving Church is, can, or should look like is a noteworthy undercurrent, if you pay attention to that sort of thing. Anyway, four stars. Highly recommend. You’re welcome.

And, it made me wonder, in a very simple way, if the writers and producers of “Somebody Somewhere,” knew something about Jesus and the Gospel of Mark. Because after being out and about in the world, beginning a ministry of healing all kinds of people of all sorts of illnesses, after casting out demons, after calming storms, and after teaching with all manner of new insight and wisdom, Jesus comes home to Capernaum, like somebody, somewhere.

And, instead of a warm welcome and a happy homecoming, Jesus is greeted with questions and contempt. “Where did this guy get all of this?,” they asked. “Isn’t this one of Mary’s kids – the carpenter?” “Who does he think he is, anyway?”

So, we have to wonder what was it that made it so hard for Jesus to go back home? Why was it that no one wanted to believe what he was teaching? Why did they take such offense at all he was preaching and teaching and saying and doing?

Maybe Jesus wasn’t old enough. Maybe he was teaching them too much too fast. Maybe he was trying to pour too much new wine into too many old wineskins. Your guess is as good as mine.

Whatever the case, I’m sure they knew that Jesus was onto something because they had most definitely heard about his ministry: how he’d healed the paralyzed man, stilled the storm, raised Jairus’ daughter, and cured the woman who had been hemorrhaging for years. All of this had to make them wonder – and maybe even hope, in spite of their suspicions – that Jesus knew what he was talking about.

And I imagine it was nice to suspect that Jesus was onto something … from a distance. I imagine they were proud to know that this hometown prophet, this local hero, was theirs. I imagine they liked to say that they knew him when, or maybe that they had worked with him, or that he’d lived around the corner or just up the road, at one time. I imagine it might have been fun to cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then he came home…back to Capernaum…then he started preaching and teaching and healing right there in front of them. Then they couldn’t help but realize that his message was for and about them too.

And forgiveness sounds great until you have to offer it yourself, and mean it.

And faith sounds easy until your own is challenged.

And loving your neighbor sounds nice until you know more about who’s living next door, or until you realize that “neighbor” has nothing to do with proximity - or your address - a lot of the time.

So no wonder it was hard for Jesus to be back home again. What if that’s why he hasn’t tried it since? What if that’s why Capernaum – and the world for that matter – hasn’t seen the whites of his eyes since he left so long ago?

Are we ready for what he would teach or preach or perform for us, now? Just like the family and friends from his hometown, it can be easy for us to claim Jesus as ours … from a distance. Just like his family and friends in Capernaum, it can be comforting to proclaim that he’s one of us and that we’re one of his. Just like his family and friends and neighbors, it’s easy to cheer Jesus on from the sidelines.

But what if he came home today? Would he find us forgiving as much as we ask to be forgiven? Would he find our faith solid and steadfast and sure? Would he find us loving our neighbor – no matter who they are or what they do or where they live?

…

Have you ever had the opportunity to “go home again” like Sam in “Somebody Somewhere” or like Jesus in Mark’s Gospel? Have you ever taken a trip to your old hometown? Have you ever gone back to an old school or to a former Church or to a house where you once lived? I’ve done it many times – and it’s never the same.

Not that it’s always bad. Not that I’ve been driven out by angry friends and family. Not even that I wouldn’t go back and visit again sometime. But it’s never exactly the way I remember it. Rooms always seem smaller, familiar faces are gone or simply not so familiar anymore. And what used to be doesn’t always match up with what has become – of the people or of the places or of me.

I imagine that’s kind of what Jesus found when he returned to Capernaum: rooms – and hearts and minds – that were too small to hold the grace he was trying to share; faces that were once familiar but that had been changed by their doubt and fear, suspicion and sin, maybe; and I wonder if he found that the world from which he had come was nowhere near, or any longer, the place that God had in store for him.

So what does this mean for you and me? What kind of welcome would Jesus find if he showed up on your doorstep, or in your office; at your next staff meeting, doctor’s appointment, or family dinner? Would he see our faith or would he be amazed by our unbelief? Could he tell we were following? Would he find a warm welcome? Or would he shake the dust from his sandals and move on?

Because whether it’s Capernaum or Kansas, we are the hometown that waits for Jesus’ return. So what does all of this mean for us?

I think it means that we make room – in our churches and in our hearts and minds – for whatever and whoever shows up at the door. It means that we allow our faith to be challenged by the breadth and depth – by the size and scope – of God’s grace. It means that we work hard to make this world more like what God had in mind in the first place.

It means that we go out into the world, too, practice forgiveness… that we preach and promise a new word about love and hope and peace so that when Jesus does come home again, he’ll be amazed by something other than our unbelief. He’ll be astonished, for a change, at what we’ve learned and at what we’ve shared and at what we’ve become … so that somebody somewhere – and everybody everywhere – will be welcome to the grace that we share, in his name.

Amen

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