Sermon for 10 Pentecost, 8/9/20: Rest, as if your life depended on it!

10 Pentecost, 9 August 2020 A

Ps. 105:1 – 6, 16 – 22, 45b; Gen. 37: 1 – 4, 12 – 28; Rom. 10:5 – 15; Matt. 14:22 – 33

After Jesus had dismissed the crowds, he went up into the hills by himself to pray.
– Matt. 14:23

Because of the normally hectic, fast-paced lives that we lead—even some of us in retirement, in our senior years which are imagined as “a slowing down time,” a time to seek out the proverbial rocking chair, or “to kick back,” to employ a contemporary colloquialism—we forget or we see it as a sign of weakness or lack of dedication, if we should take a moment to reflect on what we have done or plan to undertake.  Often has it been, that I smile or, perhaps, wrinkle my brow in puzzlement, when I glance over at a fellow traveler on the Red Line and observe how every two minutes or so he pulls from his pocket his smartphone and glances at it, not even quite three seconds long, and returns it to his pocket, so anxious is he that he may have missed an incoming communication.

That is why, I suppose, this standalone verse in today’s gospel for the 10th Sunday after Pentecost—after Jesus had dismissed the crowds, he went up into the hills by himself to pray—leapt out at me.  I confess that I am myself not without reproach, but not due [to] a mobile telephone.  Even as I, like so many of you, continue to observe our Governor’s mandate to shelter in place during these days of stress because of COVID-19, my days are not passed in silence or in contemplation.  Rather, they are occupied by zoom meetings, business calls, and glancing far too frequently—like my young man and his smartphone on the Red Line—at “breaking news” on my laptop.

Honesty demands that I acknowledge that this shelter-in-place behavior only replaces the usual in-person gatherings and meetings.  I have come to understand that the type of meeting is not the true issue.  Rather, it is “busyness,” whether in person or online, which controls and gives meaning to life, or so we believe.  But, lo! the gospel of the day calls us, you and me, to hit the “pause button.”  And the example for the pause has been offered by none other than Jesus of Nazareth, the Messiah of the Creator God.

So interested are we in the gospel accounts of both today and of Sunday last of miracles, that we glide over this crucial contribution which Jesus made and makes to the strengthening of our own faith.  We read in wonder of the feeding of the “5000 men, beside women and children.”  We look on in equal wonder at Jesus’ rescue of the sinking Peter, so much so that we miss that crucial point which gives leaven to the life and ministry of Jesus.  And so, I want to step back a moment from those two interesting accounts deemed as miracles.

Immediately prior to his feeding of the 5000 men plus women and children, Jesus had received the devastating news of the beheading of his cousin John, son of Elizabeth who was Mary’s kinswoman, the same John who had baptized him in the River Jordan, and who had declared that he was unworthy even to untie the strings of Jesus’ sandals.  We people of faith declare that Jesus was fully human and fully divine.  Jesus, being fully human, needed time to grieve, to be alone, to lament the death of a prophet, his cousin who was declared guilty without a trial before a jury of his peers and subsequently beheaded, because he dared speak truth to power.

Jesus, who like many in our own day because of COVID-19 are not able to be present when the life of a loved one comes to a close, also could not be present at John’s execution.  And then thereafter, Jesus was denied time to be alone to mourn, because the crowds followed him, so moved were they by his teachings and his power to heal.  He was not able to look to the hills, from whence came his help.

Instead of finding time to grieve, Jesus had compassion on those needing to be healed and cured, as well as on those needing to be fed.  In other words, he put the needs of others first.  And only after the physical needs of the people had been addressed, then only then did he turn again to an act which serves, even today, an example for us all.  Finally, he was able to seek what he had earned and truly deserved, namely downtime, respite in the mountains.  Jesus needed to be alone with God and with nature.

It is beyond my ability and intellect to know for certain how Jesus spent his time, when alone, although an earlier account by Matthew, following Jesus’ baptism at the hands of his cousin John at this beginning of his ministry, does offer us insight into how he spent his time: alone and in prayer.  (Matt. 4:1f.)  A later account, prior to his crucifixion, tells of his need to withdraw, in order to reflect and to refocus his thoughts.  There Matthew places him in the Garden of Gethsemane. (Matt. 26:36f.)

However, being aware that as a young lad Jesus had debated scripture with the learned men in the Temple, what I can speculate, is that Jesus was familiar with Psalm 46.  Hear, for our own reflection and contemplation, with what words the psalmist offers solace to Jesus, and by extension also to us:

God is our refuge and strength,
           a very present help in trouble.
          Therefore we will not fear though
the earth should change,
                    though the mountains shake in
                    the heart of the sea;

          God is in the midst of her, she shall not be moved;
          The nations rage, the kingdoms totter…
          The Lord of hosts is with us;
          the God of Jacob is our refuge.

          “Be still, and know that I am God.
           I am exalted among the nations,
           I am exalted in the earth!”
           The Lord of hosts is with us;
           the God of Jacob is our refuge.  Selah 

Jesus needed to be still, even if according to Matthew his R&R was short lived.  Life went on, as life must.  Having sent his disciples ahead, he catches up with them, where he finds his disciples in distress: in a boat that was being battered about by the waves on the Sea of Galilee.  Unfortunately, his unexpected appearance does not immediately calm his disciples’ fears.  On the contrary, their anxiety is heightened, until he proves himself to them.

This story has a kinship to other miracle stories told of him, and provides the fuel for many a sermon, dealing with “the storms of life.”  It is not my intention this morning to add to this genre of sermons, although in passing, I do venture the following observation about the Storms of Life, i.e. why bad things happen to good people.

First, bad things happen to bad people, as well.  The Bible teaches us that God permits the rain to fall equally on the good and the bad.  Second, some storms come because of our own lack of judgment.  We make poor choices and, as a result, we pay the consequences.  These happens most often when we have allowed ego to dictate our course of action.  Third, some storms happen because of what others do or do not do to, for, with, or against us.  And often we have little or no control over the behavior of others.

Fourth, as a person of faith, I am persuaded that God does not cause, but can use these difficulties, in orders to shake us out of our complacency and from our self-centered thinking.

And fifthly, I believe there to be an interdependency between withdrawal from our “busyness,” in order to (re-)gain our bearings, and risk and trust.  In one of the many books on my shelves here at home, is one entitled “Holy Humor: Inspirational Wit & Cartoon,” by Cal and Rose Samra (New York: 1996), given me by an acquaintance when we both sang in a community chorus.  From that little volume comes the following anecdote.

“A tourist came too close to the edge of the Grand Canyon, lost his footing, and plunged over the side, clawing and scratching to save himself.  Somehow he managed to grab hold of a small bush.  Filled with fear, he called out, ‘Is there anyone up there?  Can anyone help me?’  He heard a reassuring voice say, ‘I’m here, the Lord your God.’

“The man said, ‘I’m glad you came along.  I can’t hold on much longer.’  The Lord replied, ‘Before I help you, I want to know if you believe in me.’  The man answered, ‘Lord, I believe in you.  I go to church every Sunday.  I read my Bible, pray every day, and even put a few dollars in the collection plate.’

“The Lord repeated, ‘But do you really believe in me?’  The man was getting more desperate, ‘Lord,’ said he, ‘you can’t believe how much I believe in you.  I believe!’  The Lord said, ‘Good.  Now let go of the branch.’  The man was silent for a moment and then yelled, ‘Is there anybody else up there?’”

To trust is to risk.  Without trust there is no risk; without risk there is no trust.  All of which brings my thoughts back to Peter, and to us.  Thomas, commonly called Doubting Thomas and my favorite among the disciples, gets it right.  Peter, on the other hand, had talked the talk, as it were, but had he ever taken himself aside, in order to reflect on what he, Peter, needed to do, in order to secure his own faith more firmly?  He observed others express their faith in The Teacher.  But, as Biblical record illustrates over and over again, Peter was the senior executive vice president for operations. He did not sense that the need for contemplation applied to him?  My analysis of Peter may be summarized so: Act first; think later!

Peter’s actions and reactions are a version of what a dear friend put to me this week in the form of a question: “Do you know what the problem with us Christians is?”  Not pausing for my response, he continued: The problem is that we are ‘balcony Christians.’  We sit above the fray.  We love to discuss religion and keep our faith at an intellectual, safe distance.  We dabble in this and we dabble in that, but are fearful of actually walking on the water, “walking the talk,” of our Christian faith, said he.

Now on a roll, my friend elaborated: ‘I admit, Peter’s boldness challenges us not to sit in the boat all of our lives.  Quit procrastinating about being bolder for the Lord!  Stop with the excuses, “I need more information.”  “We might be too far ahead of our time.”  “Someone else is much more qualified to do that in the name of the Lord.”  Stop being balcony Christians.  However, said he, we need, through honest and earnest reflection, to give God a chance to slip into our mind, to allow God to be in control, rather than imposing our opinion on God.

In spite of Peter’s shortcomings, Jesus sees something in Peter that he sees in each of us.  Jesus integrates the need to withdraw for contemplation and reflection and the urge to engage in life.  Like Peter, we too are always each of us a unique person who is becoming, never complete, but situated in the act of always becoming.  Peter is a great saint of the church, not because he was perfect, but because every time he began to sink, he also turned to Christ and began to rise again.  Christ does not turn him away, nor turn away from him, but says simply “come.”

The lesson learned is a simple one.  Redemption does not depend on us; rather, it depends on the power of the hand that reaches out and pulls us up.  We do not find salvation in our faith, in our looking up, or in our crying out.  Rather, redemption finds us, because we know the power and the love of the one whose hand is reaching out to us when we sink.  God is always greater than our hearts or our faith.  God stays true to us, even when we look away or doubt or lose focus.  Thus is my plea to you this week: Consider the words of the psalmist: “Be still and know that I am God.”

AMEN

Images:

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Man_of_Sorrows,_by_William_Dyce.jpg

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Christ_Calming_the_Storm_on_Lake_Tiberias,_from_Das_Plenarium_MET_DP849923.jpg

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Kuniyoshi_Utagawa,_Heavy_rain.jpg