Excuse
Me?
Interrupting The
Interruption
A Sermon for the
3rd Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 8), Cycle
B; July 2, 2000
Independence Sunday - Summer Observance of Holy
Communion
Lectionary Preaching Text: Mark 5:21-43
Rev. Justin K. Fisher
St. Matthew United Methodist Church
Anderson,
Indiana
We interrupt this program to bring you a special announcement from the National Weather Service in Indianapolis...
We interrupt our regular programming to bring you this special News Bulletin from CNN...
But not all interruptions bring bad news, of course. As we celebrate our nation’s birthday this weekend and next week, we’re really celebrating an interruption in the way things were going back then. When the framers of our Constitution wrote…
WHEN in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness……these brave folk meant a change was imminent, and the colonists better be ready for some interruptions that would change the course of human history. Where would we be today if the signers of the Declaration of Independence hadn't interrupted the status quo? Not all interruptions are bad.WE, THEREFORE, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be FREE AND INDEPENDENT STATES; …
And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.
Of course, somewhere between the news breaking intrusions of world news and the signing of the Declaration of Independence, you and I encounter the thousands of little interruptions that grace our daily living. I use the word "grace" deliberately here, although, in truth, we more often refer to these interruptions as nuisances and frustrations than as opportunities for ministry. Think about it. Our morning schedule is interrupted by the washing machine which decides to go out with a full load in it, and we wait for a service man to come, "sometime between noon and four o'clock". This, in turn, causes a whole series of interruptions in our schedule, and we become more and more frustrated. Kids, grand kids, relatives from far and near, with unexpected changes of plans, can also throw "wrenches" into our carefully planned schedules. Instead of smiling along with them, we snarl... inside and out.
But what about the grace? William Willimon suggests that sometimes the most important things that happen to us in life are the intrusions. We are on our way somewhere, with an agenda, clear, direct purpose in mind, and we get distracted. Something else comes up that demands our attention, and that "something else" turns out to be more important than the journey on which we originally launched. (from "From Death to Life", a sermon by William Willimon fromPULPIT RESOURCE, Vol. 28, No. 3, Year B, July-Sept. 2000, p.4).
I guess that's why I love being a minister. I am continually learning that the intrusions in life, the interruptions, are wonderful opportunities for serving and loving our Lord. But I am a slow learner, and, if you don't mind me pressing the point here, so are you. Let's face it, historically we Methodists are a task oriented, time driven branch of the family of Christ. Our hospitals, universities, health and welfare agencies dotting the world bear testimony to our motto that "the world is our parish". Before we are ordained, we UM pastors are asked a series of nineteen questions from Wesley and the historic usage of our communion. They cover a wide spectrum of how we are to serve: "Will we preach, diligently instruct the children, visit from house to house, recommend fasting? Do we "know the General Rules of our church? Will we keep them? Are we going on to perfection? Do we expect to be made perfect in love in this life? Are we earnestly striving after it?" And then Wesley gets even more directional... "Are you determined to employ all your time in the work of God? (well, ...uh, kind of...) Are you in debt so as to embarrass you in your work? (??)" And then the coup de grace with question 19. I repeat it in its entirety to give you the idea of just as driven a band of believers we are:
Will you observe the following directions? (a) Be diligent. Never be unemployed. Never be triflingly employed. Never trifle away the time; neither spend any more time at any one place than is strictly necessary. (b) Be punctual. Do everything exactly at the time. And do not mend our rules; but keep them; not for wrath, but for conscience's sake. (from THE BOOK OF WORSHIP, United Methodist Publishing House, Nashville, TN, 1964, p. 325)Doesn't leave much room for interruptions, does it? And yet they come to all of us, whether we have room for them in our schedules or not. Lest you think I'm being too hard on Father Wesley, let me add that reading his journals reveals that this man of order was interrupted as much or more than any of us. At nearly every point, Wesley used the unexpected intrusions, even welcomed them, to spread the Good News of Jesus Christ. And, in his footsteps, we are to do the same.
His journey and ours begins with the Word. Today's gospel lesson is an interruption within an interruption. Mark begins one story while at the same time another story is told within the confines of the original one. The first one, the story of the healing of the daughter of the ruler of the synagogue, is the story about a prominent man who beseeches Jesus to come heal his daughter. On the way, Jesus is interrupted, distracted by the woman who touches him, seeking healing for herself. Unlike the ruler of the synagogue, she is a nobody. She has no name. We are only introduced to her as a woman who has been hemorrhaging twelve years, who has suffered under the care of many physicians.
Willimon suggests, and I agree, that by interrupting one story with another, Mark has the effect of expanding the image of Jesus as healer. Jesus not only touches those who are prominent, those in positions of power, like the ruler of the synagogue, but he is also open to being touched, interrupted by a woman who is an anonymous sufferer. (Willimon, p. 4) On this Independence Sunday, I want us to ponder these gifts of Jesus, the desire to touch and the willingness to be touched. And I want to delve more deeply into the implications this model has for serving. I find myself affirming that interruptions provide the most effective arenas for ministry, if we allow the Sprit of God to flow through them and us. But, as I said before, I am a slow learner, and so are you.
So let's learn together by revisiting the text. Jesus is on the way to do something very good for an important person and his daughter when all at once he is distracted. A woman appears and intrudes into his carefully arranged schedule. We don't know this woman's name. We know nothing of her family circumstances. All we know is that she is a woman whose body is in trouble and she is in pain and has been for a long time. And we also know that she reaches out to Jesus, and he heals her. When Jesus speaks with her he praises her action: "Your faith has made you well." He gives her all the credit. She had faith that Jesus could heal her. Yet she also had faith in herself. She had refused to accept the relegated position to which society had assigned her. She was determined to be someone more than simply a person in pain and helplessness. She had faith in Jesus, but she also had faith in her own capacity to reach and and touch.... And Jesus, blessed Jesus, was ready and willing to be interrupted by another's touch. And when he was interrupted, a miracle occurred. I like that. I love that. I wish I were more open to being touched.
But wishing doesn't make it happen. Faith does, and the willingness to bear the cost of being touched. You know, sometimes (OK, most of the time), I've observed, we don't want to be interrupted, not just because we are busy with other things but because the interruption (the one who is doing the interrupting) will demand a price from us: our time, our help, our money, our willingness to listen, our mouth to speak in reply. And that is costly. We can do it at a distance for less, but the one-on-one touching demands far more of us than just our money. It requires our heart. Jesus had it. I want more of it.
This past week I saw eighteen of us touching hands and hearts at the In As Much Food Kitchen. Yes, it was an intrusion into our week, an interruption for some of us. But a good interruption, for it forced us to travel down Pendleton Avenue with a different destination and meet with different folk at our journey's end. I do not propose for a moment that we set the world on fire with the cooking and serving of food for the indigent (I don't even like that word) and hungry of Anderson. But we did cook and serve one meal. We looked these folk in the eyes as they passed through the lines. Our hands touched over food trays and bowls of pudding, and cups of too sugary Kool Aid. And we recognized them as our neighbors. In being willing to touch others, and in being willing to be touched, my day was made brighter. And I suspect that the lives of the seventeen other St.Matthew folk were too. Let's do it again, more often, and expand the brightness.
Eventually, the gospel writer Mark goes back to the first intrusion into Jesus daily schedule, the story about the daughter of the leader of the synagogue. Life was also given there, and in this case Jesus stretched out his hand and touched the little one. Once again the action centers in on Jesus, and this time he takes the initiative to reach and touch, and I find that this a double blessing. Not only is our Lord willing to be sought after, He seeks after! He goes looking for people to touch, even, especially, through the interruptions of daily living. I want that for my ministry and for our ministry. Not to make us a bigger or better church in this community, but to make us more like Christ.
But as I said, I'm a slow learner, and so are you. As the holiday dawns, Teresa and I and some of our kids (the number is still uncertain due to their hopes of getting a better offer from friends who have real parents), will be off to the lake to enjoy the fireworks near our little cottage. We don't get up there much, what with four working schedules to contend with here at home. So far this summer I've raced up the 100 miles three or four times, to mow the grass, plant the flowers, clean the eaves trough, etc. I enjoy it, but find I have to keep on schedule to get everything done and still race home for an evening meeting. A few weeks ago, as I was mowing and eyeing the sky for a potential shower that was threatening, I noticed my neighbor eyeing me as he mowed his lawn. We nodded, and I prayed (yes this is true), "O Lord, Charlie's a great guy who'd do anything for me (and often has relighted the gas water heater in my bathroom), but, please, I need to get this lawn mowed and get back to Anderson. Please don't let him interrupt me." Prayer concluded, I noticed Charlie had stopped his mowing and was ambling across to my lawn. I kept mowing and praying. God kept him coming and even added some sprinkles.
Finally, when I could ignore him no longer, and the raindrops were dropping more quickly, I turned off my mower and we greeted each other with traditional hoosierisms, "Long time, no see." "How you doin'?", "How 'bout those Pacers?", "The lake sure is up", etc. But the longer we talked, the more I sensed Charlie needed to talk, and the more determined I was to get on with my mowing. It rained harder... At last, after a pregnant silence of twenty seconds or so, which is an eternity for us men, Charlie let a tear slip out of his eye and blurted out all at once, "My dad died last week". "Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry," I replied, and then this hulk of a guy, who is about twice my size and can do anything for anybody, kind of collapsed in my arms, and I more or less dragged him out of the rain and under the porch awning. And then, for the first time in what I would suppose was more than a week, Charlie let forth with a grief that would not quit but needed to flow. And the rain kept on falling, and slowly I got the message that this was my business for the morning. That this interruption was my calling for this hour. Sometime later, I headed for home, smiling at the half finished mowing job and growling that the windshield wipers weren't working, but satisfied and at peace. All in a days work for those of us who, very unwillingly, are willing to be touched.
Now, brethren and "sistern", you are no different than I am. We are in this together, this thing called life. And, for as beautiful as it is, it sometimes gets very messy and complicated and sad. In the midst of our ordered paces, interruptions erupt. They always have and they always will. But reading these healing stories from Mark, and especially these two entwined into one, remind me that Jesus touches and is not above being touched, and I find that so helpful and hopeful, because we need all the help we can get, and this world is and can be a very frightening place.
Just before this story of interruptions is told, Mark tells us that Jesus and his disciples are out on another lake (and not in Northern Indiana) when a heavy storm arises. Huge waves threaten to swamp the boat. The waves rise, and the wind beats against the sides of the boat. The disciples are in terror. Their world is out of control. Talk about unexpected interruptions!
"Teacher," they cry, "Do you not care that we are perishing?" Jesus arises and pronounces, "Peace! Be still!" And the storm ceases. Furthermore, the storm within their own hearts stops for a second. "Why are you afraid? Jesus asks. "Have you still not faith?" (Mark 4:35-40). Well, I'm one of those little "faithers", and I struggle with the faith I am supposed to have. I suppose in the light of today's gospel, the faith he is hoping to engender in us is faith that his is Lord, no matter what chaos, no matter how intrusive the interruptions we face, no matter how wild the "storm" threatens. He is the Lord of touching and being touched. And he invites us to join him whenever and wherever we find ourselves. He wants us to know that where we are, He is.
Look about you. Happy holiday!