Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
Sunday, July 22, 2018
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He 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. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As 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.
When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.
Cedar Lake, Indiana was the alleged summer home of Al Capone. But that was hard to believe the day I arrived there because it had certainly seen better days. The lake itself hadn’t been dredged in years, leaving it a dirty brown color and chocked with aquatic vegetation. The cottages that dotted the shoreline were worn and faded.
I once spent a summer there, working at a place called the Cedar Lake Bible Conference Center. It was one of those old turn-of-the-century camp meeting grounds with a large wooden tabernacle, guest cottages and an old hotel. The hotel, oddly enough, was built in the style of a mountain lodge, even though northern Indiana is as flat as a pancake. The lobby was knotty pine throughout with a huge stone fireplace and dusty deer heads hanging on the walls. It too had seen better days, but it was not without its charms. And one of those charms was its name: the Hotel Rest-a-While.
The evangelical founders of the conference center used the very Gospel passage we heard today as a basis for the hotel’s name. “Jesus said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” He offered that invitation to people just like us; people who desperately needed to rest.
The disciples had been commissioned and sent out to teach and heal and preach. And they had had tremendous success. In fact, they were so successful doing the Lord’s work that Mark says they didn’t even have time to eat.
But they were flying high on adrenaline – a feeling we all know: when you can work all night and create things of beauty and you don’t feel tired or hungry. Adrenaline can mask our basic human needs and trick us into ignoring or even abusing our bodies.
But Jesus saw them in the unforgiving light of day. He saw the bags under their eyes and their stooped shoulders. He knew the ones who had low blood sugar and the ones who were extra reckless without a good night’s sleep. And seeing how tired they really were, his mothering instincts emerged. “OK children, that’s enough,” he said. “I am proud of you, but you’re tired and you need to rest and have a good meal. So I’m taking you away.”
Now the truth is, Jesus needed the rest too. In the verses that precede this passage, and which we read last Sunday, Jesus had just learned that his cousin John the Baptist had been beheaded by King Herod, at the request of his new wife Herodias. That must have been quite a gut-punch for the One who preached that love conquers hate. But not this time. It sure looked like hate had won. And that’s enough to make anyone feel bone-tired.
And so, Jesus and company headed off into nature, into the quietness, into the green, to rest a while and to be replenished by a deep connection with the Earth and its Creator.
And that is still the cure for what ails us.
A study out of UCLA observed the typical week of thirty-two middle class families in greater Los Angeles. The results, according to one researcher, were "disheartening." So consumed with working, collecting, amassing, and generally "getting ahead," these families actually spent very little time together enjoying what they were working for.
In particular, Dr. Jeanne Arnold, lead author and a professor of anthropology at UCLA, bemoaned how little time family members spent outside. And here I quote her: "Something like 50 of the 64 parents in our study never stepped outside in the course of about a week. When they gave us tours of their house they'd say, 'Here's the backyard, (but) I don't have time to go there.' They were working a lot at home. (But their) leisure time was spent in front of the TV or (on their devices)."
Or on their devices. Well, that sounds familiar. I, for one, cannot leave my house without my mobile phone. I feel naked if I do, sort of panicky and disconnected. What if something happens, I think. What if one of you needs to reach me? And so, I tell myself that my being constantly connected is really about all of you. But that’s simply not the truth. It’s for me. It is my own addiction to connectivity. I am a willing and active participant in the deadening of my own mind and spirit. I freely offer myself up to the tech gods who are determined and delighted to control me and to sell me something and make me think something, and increasingly to make me hate something or someone.
Sometimes, I think I need an intervention. Maybe you do too. Maybe that’s why the language of Psalm 23 is as strong as it is. The Lord doesn’t ask us if maybe, if it is convenient, if we don’t mind, would you please lie down in a green pasture? No. The Lord makes us to lie down in green pastures because the Lord knows we need it. And so, with rod and staff in hand, he makes us take our rest.
And that is what Jesus was doing for his friends that day. They were beyond exhausted. They were addicted to their own busyness. They were full of themselves. And so he said: “Come away and rest a while.”
Rest is not just about our physicality. Rest is also about our souls. Rest is a spiritual discipline. I would even say that rest is a sacrament, because rest – the temporary cessation of our frenetic pace, is about trust. And trust is an antidote to the idolatry of self-importance. It helps us to remember that God is God and we are not.
I once read a story about Pope John the 23rd - the pope who ushered in the reforms of the Second Vatical Council in the 1960s. Of course, as the leader of Catholics world-wide, he was a very busy man. But he was also a wise man.
It was reported by one of his secretaries that every night as he left his office in the Vatican to walk down the hall to his papal apartment, he would pause as he turned off the lights and say out loud, “OK Lord. It’s your church. I’m going to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
This world is a pressure cooker. And the flame is especially hot right now. It’s likely to get hotter. And it’s in our Protestant DNA to feel the weight of the world on our shoulders, as if that weight belongs to us alone. And so, we’re always doing something productive. It’s called the Protestant work ethic, and we’re really good at it.
But what we are not so good at is remembering that we are humans – wonderfully made, but fragile. Therefore, we require rest. And we must eat good food. And we must laugh and sing and rejoice in this world full of troubles.
So, here’s your assignment: go home today and take a nap, or laze on the beach, or play with your dog. Weed your garden. Talk to your flowers. Get in your car and just pick a direction. And all the while, think of our dear Jesus, whose words restore our souls: “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”
Sunday, July 22, 2018
© the Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He 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. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As 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.
When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.
Cedar Lake, Indiana was the alleged summer home of Al Capone. But that was hard to believe the day I arrived there because it had certainly seen better days. The lake itself hadn’t been dredged in years, leaving it a dirty brown color and chocked with aquatic vegetation. The cottages that dotted the shoreline were worn and faded.
I once spent a summer there, working at a place called the Cedar Lake Bible Conference Center. It was one of those old turn-of-the-century camp meeting grounds with a large wooden tabernacle, guest cottages and an old hotel. The hotel, oddly enough, was built in the style of a mountain lodge, even though northern Indiana is as flat as a pancake. The lobby was knotty pine throughout with a huge stone fireplace and dusty deer heads hanging on the walls. It too had seen better days, but it was not without its charms. And one of those charms was its name: the Hotel Rest-a-While.
The evangelical founders of the conference center used the very Gospel passage we heard today as a basis for the hotel’s name. “Jesus said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” He offered that invitation to people just like us; people who desperately needed to rest.
The disciples had been commissioned and sent out to teach and heal and preach. And they had had tremendous success. In fact, they were so successful doing the Lord’s work that Mark says they didn’t even have time to eat.
But they were flying high on adrenaline – a feeling we all know: when you can work all night and create things of beauty and you don’t feel tired or hungry. Adrenaline can mask our basic human needs and trick us into ignoring or even abusing our bodies.
But Jesus saw them in the unforgiving light of day. He saw the bags under their eyes and their stooped shoulders. He knew the ones who had low blood sugar and the ones who were extra reckless without a good night’s sleep. And seeing how tired they really were, his mothering instincts emerged. “OK children, that’s enough,” he said. “I am proud of you, but you’re tired and you need to rest and have a good meal. So I’m taking you away.”
Now the truth is, Jesus needed the rest too. In the verses that precede this passage, and which we read last Sunday, Jesus had just learned that his cousin John the Baptist had been beheaded by King Herod, at the request of his new wife Herodias. That must have been quite a gut-punch for the One who preached that love conquers hate. But not this time. It sure looked like hate had won. And that’s enough to make anyone feel bone-tired.
And so, Jesus and company headed off into nature, into the quietness, into the green, to rest a while and to be replenished by a deep connection with the Earth and its Creator.
And that is still the cure for what ails us.
A study out of UCLA observed the typical week of thirty-two middle class families in greater Los Angeles. The results, according to one researcher, were "disheartening." So consumed with working, collecting, amassing, and generally "getting ahead," these families actually spent very little time together enjoying what they were working for.
In particular, Dr. Jeanne Arnold, lead author and a professor of anthropology at UCLA, bemoaned how little time family members spent outside. And here I quote her: "Something like 50 of the 64 parents in our study never stepped outside in the course of about a week. When they gave us tours of their house they'd say, 'Here's the backyard, (but) I don't have time to go there.' They were working a lot at home. (But their) leisure time was spent in front of the TV or (on their devices)."
Or on their devices. Well, that sounds familiar. I, for one, cannot leave my house without my mobile phone. I feel naked if I do, sort of panicky and disconnected. What if something happens, I think. What if one of you needs to reach me? And so, I tell myself that my being constantly connected is really about all of you. But that’s simply not the truth. It’s for me. It is my own addiction to connectivity. I am a willing and active participant in the deadening of my own mind and spirit. I freely offer myself up to the tech gods who are determined and delighted to control me and to sell me something and make me think something, and increasingly to make me hate something or someone.
Sometimes, I think I need an intervention. Maybe you do too. Maybe that’s why the language of Psalm 23 is as strong as it is. The Lord doesn’t ask us if maybe, if it is convenient, if we don’t mind, would you please lie down in a green pasture? No. The Lord makes us to lie down in green pastures because the Lord knows we need it. And so, with rod and staff in hand, he makes us take our rest.
And that is what Jesus was doing for his friends that day. They were beyond exhausted. They were addicted to their own busyness. They were full of themselves. And so he said: “Come away and rest a while.”
Rest is not just about our physicality. Rest is also about our souls. Rest is a spiritual discipline. I would even say that rest is a sacrament, because rest – the temporary cessation of our frenetic pace, is about trust. And trust is an antidote to the idolatry of self-importance. It helps us to remember that God is God and we are not.
I once read a story about Pope John the 23rd - the pope who ushered in the reforms of the Second Vatical Council in the 1960s. Of course, as the leader of Catholics world-wide, he was a very busy man. But he was also a wise man.
It was reported by one of his secretaries that every night as he left his office in the Vatican to walk down the hall to his papal apartment, he would pause as he turned off the lights and say out loud, “OK Lord. It’s your church. I’m going to bed now. I’ll see you in the morning.”
This world is a pressure cooker. And the flame is especially hot right now. It’s likely to get hotter. And it’s in our Protestant DNA to feel the weight of the world on our shoulders, as if that weight belongs to us alone. And so, we’re always doing something productive. It’s called the Protestant work ethic, and we’re really good at it.
But what we are not so good at is remembering that we are humans – wonderfully made, but fragile. Therefore, we require rest. And we must eat good food. And we must laugh and sing and rejoice in this world full of troubles.
So, here’s your assignment: go home today and take a nap, or laze on the beach, or play with your dog. Weed your garden. Talk to your flowers. Get in your car and just pick a direction. And all the while, think of our dear Jesus, whose words restore our souls: “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”
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