MOVING ON
Isaiah 40:21-31; Mark 1:29-39

A sermon given by the Reverend Beverley F. Edwards
February 5, 2006 / 5th Sunday after the Epiphany

I think no matter how old you are, your children are always "the kids" in your mind. The other night as we gathered to celebrate my son, Mark's birthday, I complained that the trouble-light in my car was on. Clearly I expected Mark and my son-in-law Mike to come outside in the dark to check my gauges and add the quart of oil I knew my car needed. So, of course, they did. Later, I had to laugh when I realized that, without a thought (1) I had asked the "boys"– not their wives- to do my chore and (2) that these were in fact middle-aged men, well-respected in their professions and probably not much more familiar with the innards of cars than I am.

So, ruefully, I identify with how Simon's mother-in-law, in bed --sick as a dog, probably felt when her kid brought his new friend, Jesus, and several other guys home without warning. But this Jesus was no ordinary man. Immediately, he understood her suffering and her probable embarrassment. Jesus came to where she was, took her hand and tenderly lifted her up. Then, healed and whole in body and soul, with her heart full of gratitude, this blest woman rose up and served and cared for the young men. In that tender, intimate moment, she realized, as the multitudes of other sufferers soon would, that her son-in-law's friend was a most extraordinary man with God-given powers to heal her suffering and restore her soul. He was a healer to be loved and served with deep loyalty.

And so he is to this very day. This mother's son who, in Mark's gospel appears already grown and mature, is God's son who has the divine power to heal each one of us where we are, as we are. He comes to us in those moments when all we want to do is to hide our head under the covers and never see anyone ever again. He touches our hand just when we have decided there is no hope for us and we would be better off dead. He lifts us up when we are bowed down with shame, and crushed with grief.

For his first miracle, Jesus cast out the unclean spirit from the troubled man in the temple. His second was to raise up Simon's mother-in-law. So, the first two acts of his public ministry were to heal the soul and the body of individuals who didn't even ask him to, and who, in the case of the unclean spirit, resisted mightily.

This is the good news of our faith. Sometimes, when I am walking along a crowded street, I think to myself that every single person passing by has a story and a woundedness that they keep hidden under bravado, or bury under a smiling facade. Of course, sometimes we're up and sometimes we're down, but it's no coincidence that so much gospel music is singing the blues. The promise of our faith is that Jesus cares. He does in fact come to us in our hard times. Often, like Simon's mother-in-law, we have recognized his divine grace and risen up to serve him loyally and gladly all the rest of our life.

Jesus practiced this personal ministry everywhere he went, but it was only one facet of his public and prophetic vocation. After his quiet interlude in Simon's house, that very evening, "the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases and cast out many demons."

Although Jesus had and has the power to heal and bless individuals, his equally important mission was–-and is–-to follow the prophetic tradition of being God's spokesperson to the nations. His miracles were never for their own sake. They always pointed to the glory of God. Jesus walked in the footsteps of Isaiah who prophesied, "The Lord is the everlasting God, The Creator of the ends of the earth. God brings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing. It is God who gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless."

Jesus understood himself to be God's obedient son, commissioned by God to speak God’s words to the cities and the religious and political institutions of his day. He understood his vocation to be to confront the self-righteous assumptions of those in power and to reinterpret God's commandments for the people away from obedience to specific laws and toward an ethic of equality and reconciliation.

Scripture says, "In the morning...while it was still dark, Jesus got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed." Thus ended his first whole day of ministry and began his pattern of intimate personal interactions, followed by intense, highly visible involvement in the public arena and then a time of quiet, private renewal.

This braiding of deep personal relationships, passionate public witness and profound private prayer is the model for the sustained spiritual life that all of us are called to practice as persons of faith, as members of our wider communities and in the life of this beloved church.

God knows it is not easy and none of us gets it right all the time, or even much of the time. My childhood faith was simple trust in Jesus as my friend, my protector from the meanness of other children and the unfairness of life. For what I believed was his sake, I went through a "be ye perfect" phase. Only much later did I realize that I had tried to buy Jesus love with my self-righteous virtue.

As a late bloomer, I went back to Brown and majored in anthropology, but I took religion, philosophy and poetry as well, all the time trying to find "the meaning of life." I am sorry to report, I am still searching but I now know it can't be found solely by intellectual endeavor.

As it happened, women from Pembroke College were just being integrated into the Brown University student body and the male chaplains felt the need for a "mature" woman to deal with them. Since none of us had ever heard of a woman minister, I was considered as qualified as any and I joined the staff as Associate Chaplain. These were the heady days of the seventies: women's liberation, civil rights, anti-war, pro-choice, and the first budding of gay and lesbian rights. We truly believed that we could change the policies of our country by demonstrating, arguing, sitting-in and often angry encounters. My personal disillusionment with the political path came when I voted for Lyndon Johnson because Barry Goldwater threatened to defoliate Vietnam. Six weeks later, Johnson ordered defoliation himself.

At that point of disillusionment, which I suspect many of us might be approaching once more in these difficult days, I realized I needed spiritual grounding in order not to burn out. So, I went to Andover-Newton where I learned to balance my political views with scholarship and scripture. I also learned there the importance of centering and prayer for the living of my days. There I began to understand the deep integration of the commandment to love the Lord with all your heart and mind and strength and soul. I also finally got the point that it was no use to love your neighbor as yourself unless you loved yourself.

I tell you this bit of my journey partly so you will begin to know a little about where I am coming from, but also because I am sure we are all in process here. We are all called to follow Jesus in the rhythm of our lives and to learn from one another how not to burn out or give up, how to pace ourselves for the long haul.

I suggest that, like Jesus in the wilderness, each of us needs to take personal time to confront our demons and to ground ourselves in prayer and contemplation. Then, just as Jesus surrounded himself with Simon and other supportive friends, we need to deepen our relationships with our families and friends for they are not only our sources of strength but they know us well enough to speak truth to us in love.

Finally, centered on God and strengthened by the Holy Spirit that we find in community, we will be ready to challenge effectively the principalities and powers of our own day. With peaceful hearts and quiet assurance we will dedicate ourselves to doing the Lord’s work. Then as Isaiah promises, "we who wait on the Lord shall renew our strength, we shall mount up with wings like eagles. We shall run and not be weary, we shall walk and not faint...Help us, dear God on our way."

When the disciples came to find Jesus the next morning he said, "Let us go on....so that I may proclaim the message everywhere...for that is what I came to do."

My friends, "let us go on" is the message for us today. Last week you said "farewell." This week we begin anew. We move on, continuing to follow Christ who is our guide. Hopefully, these next weeks will be a quiet time for this Church and for all of us. We have been given a time to pray and discern goals for the future. We have the opportunity to build and deepen our relationships with one another. Together we will strive to refresh and renew our strength for preaching the gospel in the city and to the principalities and powers of this world.

So, blessings, dear friends, and, forward through the ages, let us move on together with joy and thanksgiving.

AMEN