You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!
There was once
a Catholic priest who got pulled over by a police officer after running a red
light. The officer approached the car,
and the priest rolled down the window.
The officer immediately got a very strong whiff of alcohol.
“Have you been
drinking, Father?” the police officer asked.
“Not a drop”,
the priest replied.
“Well … would
you mind telling me what you have got in that flask”, the policeman asked.
“In here, you
mean,” the priest responded innocently as he raised the metal flask he was
holding. “Why, that would be water.”
The police
officer took the flask from the priest, opened it, and sniffed.
“Water? I believe this is wine, Father”, said the
policeman.
“Mother
of God!” exclaimed the priest, “Another miracle!”
Another
miracle! That is the way I felt as I
first thought back on last week’s Scripture reading and then began to reflect
on today’s story. Remember last Sunday?
We
heard about Jesus beginning his ministry by exorcising an evil spirit from the
old man who had been sitting in the back row of the synagogue – and he did it in the middle of his very
first sermon, no less. Not surprisingly,
as the author of the Gospel of Mark went on to tell us, word of this miracle – occurring
in church, no less - spread far and wide across Galilee.
Our
story today picks up right on the tail of last week’s reading. The author tells us that Jesus left the
synagogue with his disciples and hightailed it to Simon and Andrew’s home for
lunch and some good old-fashioned Sabbath afternoon conversation.
However,
when Jesus and the others arrived, they found Simon’s mother-in-law down with a
fever – sick and confined to her bed.
Now this was a bad situation for two reasons. First, who wants to see anyone pale and
lethargic and clearly under the weather?
And second, just who would make lunch for them – that being a woman’s job
and all?
And
so, clearly for the first if not a bit for both reasons, Jesus went into her
room and sat down next to her on the bed.
The author does not give us many details (this particular author never
does). However, we are told that Jesus
took her hand in his and raised her up, and the fever left her. Another miracle!
I
like to think that Jesus healed her purely from compassion – though I wonder if
his followers (dunderheads and dolts that they often were) rejoiced at the
sudden change in her health status because then they would be assured of a
noonday meal. After all, the author
makes a point of telling us that Simon’s mother-in-law immediately assumed her
womanly duties, her hands working overtime in the kitchen preparing food and
then carrying it out to her guests. As
the Gospel writer tells us, she began to wait on them – presumably hand and
foot.
The
author also tells us that by nightfall, the sick and the halt and the lame were
lined up outside Simon and Andrew’s home.
Loving hands supported those who could not walk and held those who were
feeling just plain miserable. Even the
folks in Capernaum who were free of illness gathered round to take in the spectacle,
gesturing with their hands in awe and amazement.
Apparently
Jesus did not disappoint either. He reached
his hands out, touching and healing innumerable people with all kinds of
diseases – from the common cold to leprosy.
He also raised his hands in power and exorcised more than a few demons
and evils spirits. Another miracle –
and another – and another! It was a busy Sabbath for our young
rabbi! All in a day’s work for the
newest healer in town!
Perhaps
that is why Jesus got up early the next morning, long before daylight, amidst
the snorts and snores and groans and nighttime noises of the men who had chosen
to follow him. And he walked in the
fading starlight past the very edge of town, reaching up to touch the centuries
old olive tree on the way, so beautiful in the soft glow of moonlight (a good
reminder of the beauty of all creation, he thought to himself).
He
walked until he came to a lonely place – not lonely in the sense of sad or
feeling like he had no friends – but lonely in the sense of a place where he
was not the center of attention, the healer on display, a place where he could
be with his God, with the One whose compassion he embodied in his own hands and
person, where he could be with this Holy One and pray. And so he did. He raised his hands up - both in praise and
supplication.
I
wonder what Simon and the others thought when they finally awoke and realized
that Jesus was gone: Their ticket to
fame and maybe even fortune vanished!
After all, they were enjoying this notoriety.
It
was easy to get used to feeling like big shots, especially in Capernaum. I mean, a population of 1500 was nothing to
sneeze at in those days – particularly when a good number of them were still
outstretched in a line snaking back from the front door, many near the front having
brought their lawn chairs and sleeping bags to spend the night.
Like
political handlers, Simon and the others sought out Jesus and were perhaps even
a bit annoyed when they found him. “What
are you doing way out here?” they asked, wagging an accusing finger at him. “Everyone is looking for you. You are famous, and, besides, we have not had
this much heady pleasure ever. This is
so much more awesome than hauling in fishing nets all night!
Oh,
and by the way, (shaking their fingers at him one more time for good measure) do
not ever
run off again like this without telling us where you are headed!” Pointing at their own chests with immense
pride, they finished. “We are important
people now.”
And
Jesus rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath. “This is not a circus we are about, you
know. I am not a hospital emergency
room. There is too much to do and too
little time”
But
instead he stretched out his hands and answered them, “We must go – onward to other
towns and villages. I need to
preach. I need to spread the Good News
that the Kingdom of God has the potential to be here, now, on this earth. We need to get going – moving right
along.”
And
so – without so much as a thank you hug to Simon’s mother-in-law or a wave
goodbye to all those people still waiting in line outside the house to be
healed, Jesus and the Twelve left Capernaum for other towns and villages,
places that would, in the end, all be on the way to Jerusalem.
You
know, hands and gestures figure prominently in this story. Though the author of this Gospel only directly
mentions them one time, they are all over this narrative if you look closely. We have the disciples pointing and wagging
fingers in their feeble attempts to contain and control Jesus. We have the townspeople gesticulating at the
healing circus they had come to witness.
We have the loving and supporting hands that cared for the sick and
infirm as they waited for the healing touch of Jesus.
And,
of course, we find Jesus’ outstretched hands, taking the old mother-in-law’s
hands in his own and raising her up out of her bed, so she could go back to
being who she was before she got sick – mother, mother-in-law, servant to
others.
We
find him touching the fevered brow of those who made their way to Simon and
Andrew’s home in the hopes of being healed.
We imagine him massaging atrophied legs and bringing them back to
life.
In
our mind’s eye, we see him reaching out and touching the old olive tree,
marveling at God’s creation. And we
visualize him raising his hands in a stolen moment of prayer before his lonely
place is unceremoniously stripped of its loneliness when Simon and his
companions arrive.
Outstretched
hands, touching hands, massaging hands, healing hands, marveling hands, praying
hands: Hands are important to this story,
and, I would say, hands are important to any faith community.
UCC
pastor Peter Ilgenfritz notes that “to be part of a religious community you got
to have your hands out.” He goes on to talk
about how “in a (Greek) Orthodox church you need to have your hands out: to
make the sign of the cross, kiss the icons, light a candle, shake hands and
kiss relatives…..(Furthermore) Buddhists are always using their hands to bow
and drink tea.
Even
in Protestant communities like ours with a relative lack of movement in our
worship, just watch what your hands do during a service. You hold the bulletin
and hymnal.
(You) pass the offering plates,” and
sometimes, I would add, you pass plates of cubed bread and tiny cups of grape
juice. You hold these bread cubes and tiny
cups in your hands before you taste them, and, at the end of every worship
service, you raise your hands in blessing.
Hands
and what we do with them are important – and they should never be found folded
neatly in laps, jammed into pockets, or be seen with thumbs twiddling. Hands should never be left doing nothing.
After
all, we are the body of Christ. We are
the hands of Jesus. No hands are too old
and too gnarled with arthritis. No hands
are too small and inexperienced. We –
and our hands - are all that Jesus has now.
It
is our hands that will transform the world.
It is our hands that will bring clarity to the Kingdom of God here and
now. It is our hands that must reach out
in compassion. It is our hands that are
called to touch one another in love. It
is our hands that can massage life back into withered and broken beings. It is our hands that are challenged to risk
the pain and heal a fragmented world. It
is our hands that must point to the marvels of our creation that too often are
ignored or trampled under the weight of a fossil fuel economy. It is our hands that in the end must pray –
for guidance, for strength, for courage, and for compassion.
As one blogger wrote, "Love not expressed, love not
felt, is difficult to trust....God knew the human need for nearness. Jesus is
the incarnation of God's love, which makes it all the more demanding (if
frightening) to realize that for some people, we are the only Jesus (the only hands
of Jesus, I would add) they will ever meet."
Unfold
your hands then: Touch the sick. Massage
the lifeless. Heal the hurting, even if
it means risking the pain.
Take
your hands out of your pockets: Care for
the earth. Pray.
And
quit twiddling your thumbs: After all, you
– and only you - are the hands of Jesus.
by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine
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