Epiphany 5 | Ordinary Time 5
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle B
Revised Common
Isaiah 40:21-31
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Mark 1:29-39
Roman Catholic
Job 7:1-4, 6-7
1 Corinthians 9:16-19, 22-23
Mark 1:29-39
Episcopal
2 Kings 4:(8-17) 18-21 (22-31) 32-37
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Mark 1:29-39
Theme For The Day
Jesus' example of personal prayer is one we all need to follow.
Old Testament Lesson
Isaiah 40:21-31
With Wings Of Eagles
This majestic prophetic passage moves from the austere majesty of an omnipotent and omniscient God to that same God's tender concern for the weakest members of the human race. In verse 22 the prophet celebrates the God "who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers." The passage ends with words of kindness for exiles who have suffered long enough: "those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint" (v. 31). A pastoral sermon on God's comfort for the afflicted is always in season.
New Testament Lesson
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Gotta Preach
The lectionary carves this piece off from a lengthy, complicated argument. To fully understand the issues, it's necessary to go back as far as last week's reading, in which Paul was advocating mutual forbearance in the case of whether Christians can legitimately eat food offered to idols. At the beginning of chapter 9, a new issue emerges: some antagonists have apparently been attacking Paul over the issue of his financial compensation. Again, Paul talks of rights: not the right to choose one's diet, but the right to "food and drink" in general and the right "to be accompanied by a believing wife" (vv. 4-5). Paul argues that, just as shepherds are entitled to the milk their flock produces, so too, as apostle, he is entitled to some of the "milk" from his Corinthian flock (v. 7). Yet, just as he did in the case of food offered to idols, Paul forgoes his rights for the sake of the weak. Twice he declares (vv. 12b, 15) that he has not made use of this right. No, Paul has determined that the only way to advance the gospel is for him to preach without compensation. After demanding his paycheck in the earlier part of this chapter, here in the latter part he hands it back uncashed. Paul insists that he proclaims the gospel "free of charge" (v. 18). He has made himself "a slave to all, so that [he] might win more of them" (v. 19). Everywhere he goes, he adapts himself to local circumstances. He has become "all things to all people" (v. 22). (This phrase, which has made its way into popular jargon, usually has derogatory connotations; here, in the original context, Paul cites it as a point of pride.) This is a difficult passage on which to preach, for it requires extensive background information about the situation in Corinth. The most relevant point for contemporary congregations is that Paul always puts the needs of the gospel first. As in Jeremiah 20:9, Paul has a fire in his bones: "Woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel!" (v. 16b).
The Gospel
Mark 1:29-39
Man Of Healing, Man Of Prayer
Other biblical accounts of Jesus' healings offer more satisfying detail; here, describing the healing of Simon's mother-in-law, Mark provides the bare facts and little else. His closing comment, "and she began to serve them," is troubling to modern ears -- most of us would assume that an elderly woman, healed of a serious illness, is entitled to a little bed rest! Mark is making the point, however, that Peter's mother-in-law is 100 percent healed, so much so that she returns immediately to her usual activities. News of this wonder gets around, and soon "the whole city was gathered around the door" (v. 33). Jesus casts out many demons, not permitting those demons to speak -- "because they knew him" (v. 34). This echoes the story of the healing of the demon-possessed man in the previous passage (see last week's commentary). Not even Jesus' disciples fully understand who he is, but the denizens of the spirit-world certainly do. In the second part of today's reading, Jesus disappears briefly, and when his followers go looking for him, they find him praying. This may raise, for some, the question of why Jesus needs to pray. After all, if he is divine (as even the demons seem to realize), then in praying would he not be talking to himself? It's a similar question to that of why Jesus needs to receive baptism (see Mark 1:4-11, on Baptism Of Our Lord Sunday, p. 37) -- although here the answer is different. Baptism, for a sinless person like Jesus, is an act of solidarity with the community. When it comes to prayer, however, we cannot assume that the earthly Jesus shares a common mind with God (otherwise, he could not be considered truly human). In John's Gospel, we may see Jesus described as having a certain amount of supernatural foreknowledge, but here in Mark there is little trace of that understanding.
Preaching Possibilities
Today's Gospel Lesson affords an opportunity to address the subject of prayer, and how to make room for it in our lives. Jesus evidently did: this is just one of a number of biblical passages that portray him as a man of prayer. Some other examples are Jesus praying alone on a mountain in Matthew 14:23; in "deserted places" in Luke 5:16; with his disciples in Luke 9:18; on a mountain in Luke 6:12; "in a certain place" in Luke 11:1; on the Mount of Transfiguration in Luke 9:18; in Gethsemane in Matthew 26:36ff; and on the cross in Matthew 27:46ff. Examples of prayers spoken by Jesus are legion, including: Matthew 11:25-26; Matthew 15:36; Matthew 19:13; Matthew 26:26-27; 1 Corinthians 11:24; Matthew 27:46; Luke 3:21; John 11:41ff.; John 12:27-28; John 17:1-26; Hebrews 5:7.
This incident happens after an incredibly busy sabbath day for Jesus. That day begins with him teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum. There, he's interrupted by a demon-possessed man, whom he subsequently heals. Next, he moves, along with his entourage, to the house of Simon and Andrew, where they discover Simon's mother-in-law sick in bed. Jesus heals her, too. Word of these wonders travels fast, and when the crowds appear at his doorstep, Jesus treats all comers. He's at it until well past sunset. By the time this incredible day is over, he's surely exhausted. He settles down to a well-earned night's sleep.
Morning dawns, and Jesus has disappeared -- or so his disciples think. Unbeknownst to them, he has journeyed "to a deserted place," a place of prayer. The Greek word eremos that Mark uses here means "lonely" or "deserted." It's the same word that our word "hermit" comes from. It is in this sort of place that the disciples find their Lord and master: on his knees. We can almost hear the annoyance in Simon's voice, as he informs Jesus, "everyone is searching for you."
Well, that much is still true, even today. Everyone in the world, in one way or another (whether or not they would articulate it in those terms) is searching for Jesus. Where they don't expect to find him is in that desert place, the place of prayer. Most of the world is looking for Jesus in the place of action, the place of striving, the place of doing. They don't expect to find him in the place of being.
This picture of Jesus spending quiet time in prayer doesn't square with the image many of us have of him. We're busy people, most of us. Consequently, we look for a Lord who's even busier than we are: one who can burn brightly in workaholic excess without being consumed. This passage, however, shows us otherwise.
Prayer For The Day
Following is the full text of "The Serenity Prayer," adapted from a prayer of Reinhold Niebuhr. Its less-well-known second paragraph displays the true source of the serenity celebrated in the first:
God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time,
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that you will make all things right
if I surrender to your will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with you forever in the next.
Amen.
To Illustrate
There's a wonderful comic novel by a woman named Celia Gittelson. It's called Saving Grace, and it was also made into a movie (one that ought not to be confused with a more recent film of the same title). Saving Grace is about a newly elected pope, Leo XIV, who until a short time before had been very happy being a cardinal. Through a quirk of Vatican politics, he's proposed as a dark-horse candidate for pope, and to the world's surprise, he gets elected. This pope is somewhat reminiscent of John Paul I, who reigned only a few weeks before dying suddenly.
In the novel, this reluctant pope doesn't die; he runs away. Feeling like a fish out of water amidst the byzantine politics of the Vatican, he wishes he were someplace else. The opportunity arises one day for him to slip away: and, on the spur of the moment, he takes that opportunity. Dressed as a common priest, he eludes his entourage and bodyguards. This man is still so new as pope that his face is not recognizable to most.
Through a series of unpredictable events, Pope Leo ends up in a tiny Italian mountain village. There he discovers a church in ruins, whose congregation has no priest. The villagers naturally assume he's been sent to be their priest, and he doesn't contradict their assumption. He sets to work rebuilding the parish and the church building, reconnecting with God and his sense of calling in the process. Meanwhile, back in the Vatican, his handlers comically struggle to cover up the fact that they've somehow lost the pope. They issue vague press releases about him being sick in bed, hoping against hope that the Pontifex Maximus will show up on his own, before they're called upon to produce him.
There's a lot more that happens in this book, but this part of the story is enough to make the point: even a pope needs to find that "lonely place" from time to time, the place where striving ceases and true communion with God is to be found.
***
There's an old story that goes back to the days of the Industrial Revolution. In one of those early factories -- a woolen mill where cloth was woven -- there was posted over every piece of machinery a prominent sign: "If the threads become tangled, call the foreman."
It so happened that, on her first day at work at the mill, a new employee found the threads on her machine badly tangled. Immediately she set to work untangling them, which unfortunately only made matters worse. Finally the foreman walked by, scoped out the situation, and asked, "Why didn't you call for me?"
"I didn't want to bother you, Sir," she replied. "I was simply trying to do my best."
The foreman looked the frightened woman in the eye and said kindly, "Doing your best includes calling the foreman."
That's the way God looks on us as well. If we imagine we're completely self-sufficient in this life, we're only fooling ourselves. No matter how gifted, intelligent, or self-disciplined we may be, always there comes a time when our resources simply run out. In such an hour, there's nowhere else for us to turn but to the Lord.
***
Phillip Yancey advocates the rediscovery of an ancient monastic tradition called statio. What this means, simply, is ...
... stopping one thing before beginning another. Rather than rushing from one task to the next, pause for a moment and recognize the time between times. Before dialing the phone, pause and think about the conversation and the person on the other end. After reading from a book, pause and think back through what you learned and how you were moved. After watching a television show, pause and ask what it contributed to your life. Before reading the Bible, pause and ask for a spirit of attention. Do this often enough and even mechanical acts become conscious, mindful.... The visible world forces itself on me without invitation; I must consciously cultivate the invisible. I wish the process were spontaneous and natural, but I have never found it to be so. Indeed, I have found that such a process, like anything of worth, requires discipline.
Yancey goes on to quote something the great concert pianist Arthur Rubenstein once said, about a different sort of discipline, that of musical practice: "If I omit practice one day, I notice it. If two days, the critics notice it; if three days, the public notices it." The same is true of prayer time, which is our devotional "practice."
-- Philip Yancey, "Reaching for God," in Plus magazine, December, 2002, pp. 16-18
***
In the famous poetic words of T. S. Eliot, Christians in our work-driven culture have ...
... knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance.
All our ignorance brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of heavens in twenty centuries
Bring us farther from God and nearer to the dust.
-- T. S. Eliot, Choruses from "The Rock"
Isaiah 40:21-31
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Mark 1:29-39
Roman Catholic
Job 7:1-4, 6-7
1 Corinthians 9:16-19, 22-23
Mark 1:29-39
Episcopal
2 Kings 4:(8-17) 18-21 (22-31) 32-37
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Mark 1:29-39
Theme For The Day
Jesus' example of personal prayer is one we all need to follow.
Old Testament Lesson
Isaiah 40:21-31
With Wings Of Eagles
This majestic prophetic passage moves from the austere majesty of an omnipotent and omniscient God to that same God's tender concern for the weakest members of the human race. In verse 22 the prophet celebrates the God "who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers." The passage ends with words of kindness for exiles who have suffered long enough: "those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint" (v. 31). A pastoral sermon on God's comfort for the afflicted is always in season.
New Testament Lesson
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Gotta Preach
The lectionary carves this piece off from a lengthy, complicated argument. To fully understand the issues, it's necessary to go back as far as last week's reading, in which Paul was advocating mutual forbearance in the case of whether Christians can legitimately eat food offered to idols. At the beginning of chapter 9, a new issue emerges: some antagonists have apparently been attacking Paul over the issue of his financial compensation. Again, Paul talks of rights: not the right to choose one's diet, but the right to "food and drink" in general and the right "to be accompanied by a believing wife" (vv. 4-5). Paul argues that, just as shepherds are entitled to the milk their flock produces, so too, as apostle, he is entitled to some of the "milk" from his Corinthian flock (v. 7). Yet, just as he did in the case of food offered to idols, Paul forgoes his rights for the sake of the weak. Twice he declares (vv. 12b, 15) that he has not made use of this right. No, Paul has determined that the only way to advance the gospel is for him to preach without compensation. After demanding his paycheck in the earlier part of this chapter, here in the latter part he hands it back uncashed. Paul insists that he proclaims the gospel "free of charge" (v. 18). He has made himself "a slave to all, so that [he] might win more of them" (v. 19). Everywhere he goes, he adapts himself to local circumstances. He has become "all things to all people" (v. 22). (This phrase, which has made its way into popular jargon, usually has derogatory connotations; here, in the original context, Paul cites it as a point of pride.) This is a difficult passage on which to preach, for it requires extensive background information about the situation in Corinth. The most relevant point for contemporary congregations is that Paul always puts the needs of the gospel first. As in Jeremiah 20:9, Paul has a fire in his bones: "Woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel!" (v. 16b).
The Gospel
Mark 1:29-39
Man Of Healing, Man Of Prayer
Other biblical accounts of Jesus' healings offer more satisfying detail; here, describing the healing of Simon's mother-in-law, Mark provides the bare facts and little else. His closing comment, "and she began to serve them," is troubling to modern ears -- most of us would assume that an elderly woman, healed of a serious illness, is entitled to a little bed rest! Mark is making the point, however, that Peter's mother-in-law is 100 percent healed, so much so that she returns immediately to her usual activities. News of this wonder gets around, and soon "the whole city was gathered around the door" (v. 33). Jesus casts out many demons, not permitting those demons to speak -- "because they knew him" (v. 34). This echoes the story of the healing of the demon-possessed man in the previous passage (see last week's commentary). Not even Jesus' disciples fully understand who he is, but the denizens of the spirit-world certainly do. In the second part of today's reading, Jesus disappears briefly, and when his followers go looking for him, they find him praying. This may raise, for some, the question of why Jesus needs to pray. After all, if he is divine (as even the demons seem to realize), then in praying would he not be talking to himself? It's a similar question to that of why Jesus needs to receive baptism (see Mark 1:4-11, on Baptism Of Our Lord Sunday, p. 37) -- although here the answer is different. Baptism, for a sinless person like Jesus, is an act of solidarity with the community. When it comes to prayer, however, we cannot assume that the earthly Jesus shares a common mind with God (otherwise, he could not be considered truly human). In John's Gospel, we may see Jesus described as having a certain amount of supernatural foreknowledge, but here in Mark there is little trace of that understanding.
Preaching Possibilities
Today's Gospel Lesson affords an opportunity to address the subject of prayer, and how to make room for it in our lives. Jesus evidently did: this is just one of a number of biblical passages that portray him as a man of prayer. Some other examples are Jesus praying alone on a mountain in Matthew 14:23; in "deserted places" in Luke 5:16; with his disciples in Luke 9:18; on a mountain in Luke 6:12; "in a certain place" in Luke 11:1; on the Mount of Transfiguration in Luke 9:18; in Gethsemane in Matthew 26:36ff; and on the cross in Matthew 27:46ff. Examples of prayers spoken by Jesus are legion, including: Matthew 11:25-26; Matthew 15:36; Matthew 19:13; Matthew 26:26-27; 1 Corinthians 11:24; Matthew 27:46; Luke 3:21; John 11:41ff.; John 12:27-28; John 17:1-26; Hebrews 5:7.
This incident happens after an incredibly busy sabbath day for Jesus. That day begins with him teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum. There, he's interrupted by a demon-possessed man, whom he subsequently heals. Next, he moves, along with his entourage, to the house of Simon and Andrew, where they discover Simon's mother-in-law sick in bed. Jesus heals her, too. Word of these wonders travels fast, and when the crowds appear at his doorstep, Jesus treats all comers. He's at it until well past sunset. By the time this incredible day is over, he's surely exhausted. He settles down to a well-earned night's sleep.
Morning dawns, and Jesus has disappeared -- or so his disciples think. Unbeknownst to them, he has journeyed "to a deserted place," a place of prayer. The Greek word eremos that Mark uses here means "lonely" or "deserted." It's the same word that our word "hermit" comes from. It is in this sort of place that the disciples find their Lord and master: on his knees. We can almost hear the annoyance in Simon's voice, as he informs Jesus, "everyone is searching for you."
Well, that much is still true, even today. Everyone in the world, in one way or another (whether or not they would articulate it in those terms) is searching for Jesus. Where they don't expect to find him is in that desert place, the place of prayer. Most of the world is looking for Jesus in the place of action, the place of striving, the place of doing. They don't expect to find him in the place of being.
This picture of Jesus spending quiet time in prayer doesn't square with the image many of us have of him. We're busy people, most of us. Consequently, we look for a Lord who's even busier than we are: one who can burn brightly in workaholic excess without being consumed. This passage, however, shows us otherwise.
Prayer For The Day
Following is the full text of "The Serenity Prayer," adapted from a prayer of Reinhold Niebuhr. Its less-well-known second paragraph displays the true source of the serenity celebrated in the first:
God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day at a time,
enjoying one moment at a time,
accepting hardship as a pathway to peace;
taking, as Jesus did,
this sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it;
trusting that you will make all things right
if I surrender to your will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with you forever in the next.
Amen.
To Illustrate
There's a wonderful comic novel by a woman named Celia Gittelson. It's called Saving Grace, and it was also made into a movie (one that ought not to be confused with a more recent film of the same title). Saving Grace is about a newly elected pope, Leo XIV, who until a short time before had been very happy being a cardinal. Through a quirk of Vatican politics, he's proposed as a dark-horse candidate for pope, and to the world's surprise, he gets elected. This pope is somewhat reminiscent of John Paul I, who reigned only a few weeks before dying suddenly.
In the novel, this reluctant pope doesn't die; he runs away. Feeling like a fish out of water amidst the byzantine politics of the Vatican, he wishes he were someplace else. The opportunity arises one day for him to slip away: and, on the spur of the moment, he takes that opportunity. Dressed as a common priest, he eludes his entourage and bodyguards. This man is still so new as pope that his face is not recognizable to most.
Through a series of unpredictable events, Pope Leo ends up in a tiny Italian mountain village. There he discovers a church in ruins, whose congregation has no priest. The villagers naturally assume he's been sent to be their priest, and he doesn't contradict their assumption. He sets to work rebuilding the parish and the church building, reconnecting with God and his sense of calling in the process. Meanwhile, back in the Vatican, his handlers comically struggle to cover up the fact that they've somehow lost the pope. They issue vague press releases about him being sick in bed, hoping against hope that the Pontifex Maximus will show up on his own, before they're called upon to produce him.
There's a lot more that happens in this book, but this part of the story is enough to make the point: even a pope needs to find that "lonely place" from time to time, the place where striving ceases and true communion with God is to be found.
***
There's an old story that goes back to the days of the Industrial Revolution. In one of those early factories -- a woolen mill where cloth was woven -- there was posted over every piece of machinery a prominent sign: "If the threads become tangled, call the foreman."
It so happened that, on her first day at work at the mill, a new employee found the threads on her machine badly tangled. Immediately she set to work untangling them, which unfortunately only made matters worse. Finally the foreman walked by, scoped out the situation, and asked, "Why didn't you call for me?"
"I didn't want to bother you, Sir," she replied. "I was simply trying to do my best."
The foreman looked the frightened woman in the eye and said kindly, "Doing your best includes calling the foreman."
That's the way God looks on us as well. If we imagine we're completely self-sufficient in this life, we're only fooling ourselves. No matter how gifted, intelligent, or self-disciplined we may be, always there comes a time when our resources simply run out. In such an hour, there's nowhere else for us to turn but to the Lord.
***
Phillip Yancey advocates the rediscovery of an ancient monastic tradition called statio. What this means, simply, is ...
... stopping one thing before beginning another. Rather than rushing from one task to the next, pause for a moment and recognize the time between times. Before dialing the phone, pause and think about the conversation and the person on the other end. After reading from a book, pause and think back through what you learned and how you were moved. After watching a television show, pause and ask what it contributed to your life. Before reading the Bible, pause and ask for a spirit of attention. Do this often enough and even mechanical acts become conscious, mindful.... The visible world forces itself on me without invitation; I must consciously cultivate the invisible. I wish the process were spontaneous and natural, but I have never found it to be so. Indeed, I have found that such a process, like anything of worth, requires discipline.
Yancey goes on to quote something the great concert pianist Arthur Rubenstein once said, about a different sort of discipline, that of musical practice: "If I omit practice one day, I notice it. If two days, the critics notice it; if three days, the public notices it." The same is true of prayer time, which is our devotional "practice."
-- Philip Yancey, "Reaching for God," in Plus magazine, December, 2002, pp. 16-18
***
In the famous poetic words of T. S. Eliot, Christians in our work-driven culture have ...
... knowledge of motion, but not of stillness;
Knowledge of speech, but not of silence;
Knowledge of words, and ignorance of the Word.
All our knowledge brings us nearer to our ignorance.
All our ignorance brings us nearer to death,
But nearness to death no nearer to God.
Where is the Life we have lost in living?
Where is the wisdom we have lost in knowledge?
Where is the knowledge we have lost in information?
The cycles of heavens in twenty centuries
Bring us farther from God and nearer to the dust.
-- T. S. Eliot, Choruses from "The Rock"
