8th Sunday After Pentecost, July 19, 2015

Collect for the Day

Almighty God, the fountain of all wisdom, you know our necessities before we ask and our ignorance in asking: Have compassion on our weakness, and mercifully give us those things which for our unworthiness we dare not, and for our blindness we cannot ask; through the worthiness of your Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.  Amen. 

Reflections: This is one of my favorite collects. It blesses my uncertainty and bewilderment. It reminds me that I don’t have to be right about what’s most needed, that I can simply hold a person or a situation before the God who knows and loves and redeems.

 

First Lesson: 2 Samuel 7:1-14a

When David, the king, was settled in his house, and the LORD had given him rest from all his enemies around him, the king said to the prophet Nathan, "See now, I am living in a house of cedar, but the ark of God stays in a tent." Nathan said to the king, "Go, do all that you have in mind; for the LORD is with you."

But that same night the word of the LORD came to Nathan: Go and tell my servant David: Thus says the LORD: Are you the one to build me a house to live in? I have not lived in a house since the day I brought up the people of Israel from Egypt to this day, but I have been moving about in a tent and a tabernacle. Wherever I have moved about among all the people of Israel, did I ever speak a word with any of the tribal leaders of Israel, whom I commanded to shepherd my people Israel, saying, "Why have you not built me a house of cedar?"

Now therefore thus you shall say to my servant David: Thus says the LORD of hosts: I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep to be prince over my people Israel; and I have been with you wherever you went, and have cut off all your enemies from before you; and I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth. And I will appoint a place for my people Israel and will plant them, so that they may live in their own place, and be disturbed no more; and evildoers shall afflict them no more, as formerly, from the time that I appointed judges over my people Israel; and I will give you rest from all your enemies.

Moreover the LORD declares to you that the LORD will make you a house. When your days are fulfilled and you lie down with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom. He shall build a house for my name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. I will be a father to him, and he shall be a son to me.

Reflections:   When the children of Israel entered Canaan, they changed from a wandering people to a settled one. The learning curve must have been huge. How do you settle into one place when you’re accustomed to living in tents and moving from place to place? (And what about property upkeep and landscaping?) They found some guidance by watching the people in neighboring cities, who had been settled for a long time.

Imagine how they must have been viewed by those neighbor—who were already good at mowing the lawn regularly and taking out their garbage carts on time. The Israelites had their own rich cultural heritage, but in the eyes of their neighbors, they must have seemed primitive and stupid. You can imagine the gossip.

In the books of Samuel, we see Israel struggling with the pressure to conform to the customs of the people around them. The obvious choices—a king, a temple—weren’t necessarily God’s choices. Eventually, God gives in and grants Israel a King—Saul (and we know how that turned out).

It’s a similar story with the temple. Every city worth its salt has a temple. Even the curmudgeonly prophet Nathan thinks building a temple is a good idea. At least, he does until God wakes him up at 2:00 in the morning and won’t let him get back to sleep.

          It turns out that whether and when to build a house for God just isn’t David’s business. Later on, another king in another situation . . . but not now. And then . . . here’s the momentous twist: David wants to build God a house, but God won’t let him. Instead, God will build David a house. So much for what David thought was important. In its place: a much greater blessing.  

Psalm 89:20-37 Tunc locutus es

"I have found David my servant; * with my holy oil have I anointed him.

My hand will hold him fast * and my arm will make him strong.

No enemy shall deceive him, * nor any wicked man bring him down.

I will crush his foes before him * and strike down those who hate him.

My faithfulness and love shall be with him * and he shall be victorious through my Name.

I shall make his dominion extend * from the Great Sea to the River.

He will say to me, 'You are my Father, * my God, and the rock of my salvation.'

I will make him my firstborn * and higher than the kings of the earth.

I will keep my love for him for ever, * and my covenant will stand firm for him.

I will establish his line for ever * and his throne as the days of heaven."

"If his children forsake my law * and do not walk according to my judgments;

If they break my statutes * and do not keep my commandments;

I will punish their transgressions with a rod * and their iniquities with the lash;

But I will not take my love from him, * nor let my faithfulness prove false.

I will not break my covenant, * nor change what has gone out of my lips.

Once for all I have sworn by my holiness: * 'I will not lie to David.

His line shall endure for ever * and his throne as the sun before me;

It shall stand fast for evermore like the moon, * the abiding witness in the sky.'

Epistle: Ephesians 2:11-22

Remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision”—a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands—remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world.

But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it.

So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.

Reflections: This reading starts with boundaries: ‘us’ and ‘them,’ and the reminder that once, we were ‘them.’ Walls divide. Some are inside, and some outside. Walls create and are maintained by otherness, competition, hostility.

But in Christ, the hostility dissolves ad we find ourselves—despite our differences—one people. Walls gather us into one—a unity all the richer because of our differences.

In Christ, God’s house comes full circle. The wandering tent became fixed on the Temple Mount. But Christians are called to be a pilgrim people; we gather to worship within walls of brick and mortar; but the fruit of worship is the renewal of our souls and bodies, making us into vessels that carry the divine presence back out into the world.  

Gospel: 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.  

Reflections: I am struck by how Jesus copes with a situation he cannot control. He and his disciples have poured themselves out for others, have had no time for themselves. They’re exhausted and overloaded, in need of silence and solitude for renewal. But they can’t get away. They try to go off, and what happens? A bunch of people have got there before them. Can you spell frustration? Bad mood? Boy, I sure can.

But Jesus doesn’t get angry or grumpy. He doesn’t even give them a stern lecture and send them on their way. How does he do it? I think the key is this: “He had compassion for them.” I don’t think it’s as simple as feeling sorry for them. It seems to signal a complete change, a move from exhaustion to strength, from being pestered and “peopled out,” to taking command—of himself and of the situation.

          I think this compassion is a key because that is the one thing I find works when I am overloaded and all I really want to do is get away, gorge on chocolate, or have a nap. The situation usually occurs when I’ve been working hard, interacting with people for a long time, and I finally get a chance to take a break or eat my lunch, (or go home). And then, someone shows up needing something from me.

          It’s not that I don’t have a choice. I could send them away, tell them to make an appointment, tell them it’s too late. But I serve people who don’t speak English well (and sometimes not at all), many of whom who don’t understand how colleges (and office hours) work, and some of whom have gone to a lot of trouble to find me.

          Ostensibly, I could deal with them quickly, and then do what I wanted. But it’s almost inevitable in my experience that if I try to deal with non-English speakers efficiently, it ends up taking longer. Every attempt to take a short cut requires twice longer to explain because if my mind is really on what I want to do afterwards, I am not taking the time I need for the person right in front of me. As a consequence of this double-mindedness, I experience building frustration (and if I’m not careful, resentment).

The best choice, which is far more effective, is to drop my agenda, and give my full attention to the person at hand. That is, to stop thinking about what I want, and to look at the other with compassion.

And the consequence? I think we all have this experience: even in trying circumstances, when united with Christ in compassion, we can be renewed.