Rev.
Halliburton
July 22, 2012
MARK
6:30-34 NRSV
30The apostles gathered around
Jesus,
and told him all that they had done and taught.
31He said to them,
"Come
away to a deserted place
all by yourselves
and rest a while."
For
many were coming and going,
and they had no leisure even to eat.
32And they went away in the
boat
to a deserted place by themselves.
33Now many saw them going and
recognized them,
and they hurried there on foot from all the
towns
and arrived ahead of them.
34As he went ashore, he saw a
great crowd;
and he had compassion for them,
because they were like sheep without a shepherd;
and he began to teach them
many things.
***
Some of us need the reminder to go out among the
villages, preaching, teaching and healing. Others of us need the reminder to
come away to deserted place. Some of us need to reminder to rest awhile. We
need the reminder that Jesus remains at work while we rest.
The disciples have come back from being sent out by
Jesus. They have been on the go for at least two weeks of the lectionary. They
have traveled, stayed in stranger’s homes, preached, proclaimed the gospel, and
healed the sick. They were so busy that they were unable to even eat in
leisure. I think many of us can relate: grabbing a bagel on the way to school,
eating in the car, or at our desk, turning the ritual of a meal together into
simple sustenance for survival. This was not a relaxing vacation for the
disciples. They were gone traveling on business. They needed a vacation from
their vacation, so Jesus sent them out to a deserted place.
Jesus sent them out on a boat. I imagine it was the
only place they could truly get way, the middle of the lake, surrounded by
nothing but waves, water, and wooden vessel. The middle of the lake - its
today’s trip that takes you out of town, or out of cell phone range, and if
you’ve done it right, you’ve left your laptop at home too. Where is your middle
of the lake? When’s the last time you went there? Is Sunday for an hour enough,
or do you need to head up to Anthony where the only pestering you’ll get is
from the mosquitoes. When’s the last time you went to a deserted place, a place
where the call of, “Mom,” or “Dad,” is silent. Have you sent your kids to a
deserted place, where you are not the one they are relying on? When is last
time you have been in the wilderness?
The summer before this one, I drove alone from
Colorado Springs to Glacier National Park. Will couldn’t go, and I figured it
was my last chance being so close (over a thousand miles away close that is). I
played my favorite tunes in the car, and was thoroughly enjoying myself until I
reached Blackfeet Native American Reservation outside the park. Like so many
reservations it was a sad, neglected, and run down place. It was here my car
decided to start making noises I had never heard before. I may not be terrified
to drive a thousand miles across the country and camp by myself, but walking
into an unknown car mechanic with an unknown problem terrified me, as did the
lack of respectable looking motels. At that point, I decided this trip was the
dumbest thing I could have done alone. I turned off the car, and probably
cussed more than I prayed. I called Will with the last bits of cell phone
juice, in waves of poor and poorer reception. There was nothing he could do
from a thousand miles away, but listen to my fearful tears. Afterward, I turned
the car on and the noise was gone. Perhaps then I prayed.
I came to the Glacier Park Visitor’s Center and they
told me the last campground that might have a spot. I drove off the beaten
path, with our little Honda, and pulled into a tiny campground. As I drove up
two women, a little older than me, were reserving a site on the board. Encouraged,
I circled around; discouraged, I circled around again. There was nothing. In
last hopes, I got out and looked at the board. I was choking back tears. I did
not want to go back to the sketchy motels, I did not want to camp on the side
of the road and be awaked by an officer asking me to move. This truly was the
dumbest idea to go out into the wilderness alone. The two women were watching.
“Do y’all know if there is any place to camp?” They shook their heads no, and
my tears welled up. A shaky, “thanks,” was all I could muster. I walked toward
the car, in order to have a good cry alone. Then one of them walked up and
said, “You can camp with us.” It was one of those moments where no amount of,
‘thank yous,’ could have ever been enough. They were truly saints to me. We had
a Stone Soup sort of meal: I with chili and a Coleman stove, they with a can
opener. We parted ways in the morning, and from then on my trip was amazing. I
hiked my own pace on trails I chose, walked alone in the woods, and wrote liturgy
by a lake. I took time to take pictures of little tiny things, and listened to
the whisper of wind, and crackle of campfire. It was, without apology, the best
vacation I’ve ever had.
It would have been easy to stay home. I, like many
of you, had to-do lists on which tasks merely transferred from one clean sheet
to the next – never fully finished, never totally crossed out. I suppose in
some ways going to Glacier was just another one of those tasks, but at least it
was a task to give myself a Sabbath instead of do more. I think Sabbath is the
task the disciples are given. If they stay on the land the people will just
keep coming. The list will always grow. There will always be people to heal,
and the poor will always be with us. We can take weeks to proclaim the gospel,
but when we come back to our Lord, he orders us rest.
As the disciples rested in the boat, the people
followed on foot on the land. They came from all the towns, and by the time the
boat landed on the opposite shore, a great crowd had arrived ahead of it. Its
like the pile of e-mail upon returning home from a trip, it is like laundry to
be done, people to get back in touch with and visit, yet it is more. Lined up
were all the people in need of Jesus, in need of healing, in need of the Word
of our Lord. The feeding of the 5,000 comes next in the scripture; a multitude
is gathered. The disciples will eventually have to get out of the boat, but for
now, it is Jesus who goes ahead. He has compassion for the people, who were
like sheep without a Shepard. He goes out to the oppressed, and the alone, the
sick, and the poor, those in need of hope, and those in need of grace. He is
still at work, while the disciples take rest, while they remain in the vessel
just a tiny bit longer.
It is a reminder to the disciples, and to us that
Jesus remains at work when we need rest. That even in the midst of our Sabbath,
Jesus reminds us that he is with the sheep without a shepard, the lost sheep
without a car mechanic, a campsite, or even a can opener. That perhaps when
Sabbath to a deserted place seems like the dumbest idea of a lifetime, Jesus,
through the saints both meets our need for Sabbath, and the world’s need of
healing.
