Telling Stories on the Sabbath
St. Charles Avenue Baptist Church, New Orleans, Louisiana
A few weeks
ago, I read a fantastic article about the importance of story by Johanna Shapiro, a nurse, written from her
medical perspective. The article
stresses that doctors must pay attention to stories told to them by their
patients, even though they may often be unreliable, meaning, they are not
entirely true. Sometimes, people tell
their doctors that they are doing much better than they really are doing
because they want the doctor to be happy and successful or because they fear
disappointing the doctor if they aren’t doing well. Sometimes, they talk about other nagging
issues, insignificant to something they are really facing, because they cannot
handle what might be grim news.
This
article caused me to take pause. I spend
most of my daily life as a hospice chaplain listening to people’s stories. Sometimes the stories are medical, sometimes
they are not. Sometimes the stories are
spiritual, sometimes they are not. But
the article reminded me that regardless of their topic, regardless of their
being entirely truthful or not, and regardless of who might be telling the
stories—sometimes I hear from family members and friends and not patients
directly—the stories need to be told and need to be heard.
Another
reason the article interested me was because of the natural bridge its topic
held to the studies my husband is engaged in at the Baptist seminary. To greatly simplify what he is studying—for
me, not for you—he looks very closely at stories behind the New Testament
texts. He studies the language, the
history, and how variations, both intentionally and unintentionally occurring,
might or might not change the way we interpret certain texts. If you would like to know more, please ask
him, that’s as deep as I’m willing to dig.
So, I am
excited about the new part of our church service where we are hearing the
stories of one another. We need to hear
from each other. We need to hear the collective
story of our church. We need to hear the
stories of faith, of heartbreak, of perseverance. We need to hear the stories of hope, of
struggle, of homecoming.
And so, as
we think about story today, let me share this passage from Mark. While I usually follow the lectionary, I am
straying today. These verses caught my
eye a couple of weeks ago and “got under my skin,” as they say. My husband just happens to be studying Mark
this semester, too. Between the concept
of story and this sermon preparation from Mark, he and I have had more to talk
about these past few days than we have had in several months. Luckily, at other times, we have a two-year-old
who keeps us on our toes and in common conversation with each other.
Introduction over, here are the words from Mark:
Mark 3:1-6
Again Jesus [he] entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the Sabbath, so that they might accuse him. And he said to the man who had the withered hand, 'Come forward.' Then he said to them, 'Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath, to save life or to kill?' But they were silent. He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, 'Stretch out your hand.' He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.
The Lord be with you...Let us pray.
Dear Lord, the holder, hearer, and creator of all stories, guide us through these words from Mark. Open our hearts so that we might consider; open our ears so that we might be inspired; open our hands so that we might be healed.
In your name we pray, Amen.
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What is it
about this story from Mark? The gospels
of Luke and Matthew also include the story, but there is something about Mark’s
words that are captivating.
It’s a
story of healing, but it’s not really a happy story, is it? How do you feel after hearing the
verses? Sad? Confused?
Angry? Disheartened? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. We can feel all of those emotions; they
translate easily to our lives and to our own stories.
We feel
saddened for the man who came into the temple, maybe to pray, maybe to learn,
maybe to be healed, who instead found himself in the middle of an impromptu
trial of Jesus by the Pharisees.
How must
the man have felt when leaving the synagogue?
Surely he felt great joy at the restoration of his hand; but I wonder if
he wonders—as he gazes at his hand, newly filled with life and color—I wonder
if he wonders whether any cost has been incurred with his healing.
Many of us
have needed restoration, but the healing has been delayed due to circumstances
beyond our control. Many of us have
needed restoration, but are overwhelmed by the burdens we might place on those
who will aid us in the process.
And what of
any onlookers who witnessed this scene?
Were the disciples there with any others, watching together, confused as
to why traditional rabbinic law was seemingly being interpreted anew? Who was this man calling into question the
role of the Sabbath? Didn’t he
understand that the wrath of God would be felt if the Sabbath was not kept? Yes, we can understand the confusion of any
onlookers.
There are
times in our lives when change becomes personified and in its new form, refuses
to be ignored. The things that we
thought we knew and understood suddenly appear differently to us. Occasionally, people come into our lives to
show us that something needs to change.
Yes, we can understand what was probably a bulk of emotions on their
part—confusion, compounded with fear and shock.
Certainly
we have no trouble feeling the anger and grief of Jesus, though we may have a
little trouble allowing Jesus the emotion of anger. The Pharisees seem to sit sinisterly in the
corner, like evil storybook characters, waiting for their chance to come out of
the shadows and pounce on Jesus, the protagonist. A man, needing to be healed was standing in
front of the one who could offer healing, and instead of cheering on the
process and throwing a celebration party, the Pharisees are taking notes,
building their case against Jesus, ignoring his good works.
Why all the
conversation surrounding Sabbath law?
What is it about the Sabbath that causes so much controversy among the
characters in our story?
The
interpretation of Sabbath law is one part of the discussion from this text. And even though I believe that the discussion
is a veil for struggle of power, the discussion is still important.
In her
book, The Misunderstood Jew, Amy-Jill
Levine sorts out some of the questions about the importance of keeping the
Sabbath for the Israelites. By honoring
the day, the guarantee of the Israelites being free is both practical and mandated. By designating a day to take delight in both
God and Creation, the Israelites’ schedule is their own—no one is telling them
what to do on that day. But the mandate
is clear too: the Lord commands the observance—you
will delight in me, in my Creation and
in the Sabbath. It’s hard to imagine
that joy could come from a mandate, and there are many occurrences in the Old
Testament where the Israelites did not keep the Sabbath. Still, when they chose to be obedient, there
was the element of delight, of joy, in observing the day of rest.
Levine also
says that Christians read verses, such as these from Mark, and think that the
Sabbath had been changed from a day of rest and celebration to a day of
constraint—don’t do this/don’t do that.
But the picture is bigger than that; there is more to the Sabbath than
just taking the day off.
In the
previous chapter of Mark, chapter 2, verses 27 and 28, Jesus makes the
statement, “The Sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the
Sabbath.” With the questions he asks in
chapter 3, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath, to save life
or to kill,” Jesus is making some bold claims about the way the current culture
is observing the Sabbath. On a day that
was interpreted in that time (and is maybe still interpreted) to be a day of
rest, Jesus is giving a call to action.
The
Sabbath—made for humans, made for all humans, those well and those ailing,
those who are wealthy and those in great need.
Jesus is warning against passivity, and evoking memories of verses from
the Hebrew Scriptures to help with this needed re-interpretation.
There are
several passages in Deuteronomy to which Jesus could be referring. Take note of the images in these verses. Starting with the list of the Ten
Commandments in chapter 5, the 12th verse instructs about the
Sabbath: “Observe the Sabbath day and
keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. Six days you shall labor and do all your
work. But the seventh day is a Sabbath
to the Lord your God…Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and
the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an
outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath
day.”
Then, in
chapter 15, beginning with verse 7, “If there is among you anyone in need, a
member of your community in any of your towns within the land that the Lord
your God is giving you, do not be hard-hearted or tight-fisted toward your
needy neighbor. You should rather open
your hand, willingly lending enough to meet the need, whatever it may be. Give liberally and be ungrudging when you do
so, for on this account the Lord your God will bless you in all your work and
in all that you undertake. Since there
will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you,
‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbor in your land.’”
And
finally, in chapter 30, verses 12-14, concerning the keeping of the
commandments: “It is not in heaven, that
you should say, ‘Who will go up to heaven for us, and get it for us so that we
may hear it and observe it?’ Neither is
it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will cross to the other side of
the sea for us, and get it for us so that we may hear it and observe it?’ No, the word is very near to you; it is in
your mouth and in your heart for you to observe.”
The parallelism
or echo between the imagery in Deuteronomy and the passage in Mark is set out
for us. The imagery of an open hand,
even a mighty hand, is clear. The hand
is an active one that gives, without thought to the correctness of time or
rule. These hands are not withered and
lifeless. There are other images, too: the mouths are not silent, as are the mouths
of the Pharisees; they are open, saying the words of the Lord. The hearts in the passages from Deuteronomy
are without hardness and are instead giving freely, along with the open hands.
As I stated
before, though the Sabbath is important, and its meaning is important to
discover in our own lives today, the new interpretation of Sabbath law is just
an example of Jesus’ larger message.
Read the verses in Mark for Jesus’ actions. Jesus enters the synagogue, but that is where
his action stops. He bids the man with
the withered hand to come forward and stretch out his arm, but Jesus does not
touch him, spit on him, or perform any other physical ritual of healing. Healing takes place on a divine level—Jesus
does not act—he does not break the Sabbath.
This story is not solely about the keeping of the Sabbath.
For
onlookers, and even for the Pharisees, their confusion must have been
palpable. Jesus’ anger was there, but
not the anger of the God they knew, residing in heaven. Jesus was the source of healing, but the
healing was not visible; like the anger, the healing came from heaven.
Change is
personified, newly alive in Jesus, and is refusing to be ignored. It is no wonder that any onlookers were
dazed. It is no wonder that the
Pharisees were dazed—but they could not come out of their daze with celebratory
efforts. They could only react to their
fear of the changing power by plotting against the Change.
With his
actions, Jesus is maintaining the current understanding of the law. He understands the people’s feelings about
the Sabbath. But with his words, Jesus
is urging those around him to consider what the full intentions of the law
originally were.
It is in this
consideration that we must insert ourselves into the story by becoming the
characters in the shadows, the Pharisees.
For the hardest part of this passage is not identifying with the ailing
man, with Jesus, or with any onlookers.
The hardest part of this passage comes in the confrontation of the
Pharisees, but to fully gain the message of this passage, we must confront the
Pharisee in us.
I believe,
though, as messy as the confrontation may be, true healing can begin to take
place once the discourse starts.
Let me tell
you a story.
In second
grade, when I was probably supposed to be completing an assignment, I instead
was making a “T” and a “J” out of Popsicle sticks for my good friends Travis
and Jay. I remember directing them to hold the joints tightly
together until the glue dried. There, in
the corner of a mobile classroom, dusty from a game of kickball, we sat
together at huddled desks, three friends content with the presence of one another. Elementary school was generally a nice time
for me, though surely a naïve time, of no make-up and no hair-bows, of skinned
knees and pony-tails.
My
friendships with Travis and Jay grew out of natural affinity for each
other. As long as they were near, I
would never be picked last for kickball teams and would never be picked on and
teased. In fact, I can only remember one
threat of trouble in elementary school.
In the first grade, our teacher went out of the room for a minute and a note
was passed around the class. I was
tricked into reading the word on the paper out-loud, having no idea what the
word was or that it was classified in the “bad” file. The word is in the Bible, so it is okay to
say, even from the pulpit, but I will refrain; I don’t want to offend any
tender ears. After I said the word in my
schoolroom, the class let out an initial low murmur of “ooh” and it grew and
grew, and my fear of getting into trouble grew alongside the rumble. Travis came over, put his arm around me,
patted my shoulder, looked into my teary eyes and said, “Don’t worry. I have the paper. It’ll be okay.” In an amazing turn of events, another boy,
the instigator of the whole scenario, sat in the corner after our teacher
returned to the room.
At the end
of each school day, I walked home to my neighborhood. Travis and Jay took the bus home to their
neighborhood.
As time
went by, and as my naivety wore off, I tried to find my old friend Travis, but
knew that I might not find him in the best of situations. By high school, our paths ventured different
ways already. While I walked averagely
through high school and then wandered more through college, Travis was serving
time in the county prison.
I thought
about visiting him—“What would I
say? Could I offer anything? How could I help the friend who helped me so
many times?”
But, I did
not visit and I did not help.
Tragically,
he ended his life just a couple of weeks ago in a violent encounter with
police. In that situation, he was an
adult, making his own decisions, and through his actions, he no doubt hurt
others. Picturing him as an adult doing
these things is hard for me and saddening to me. But I
really can’t picture him as an adult. I
picture him as the child and friend I knew, who could not have the path I had,
who couldn’t see an alternative path, who could not see any way out of this
life but to just have it come to an end.
And that makes me cry. And
hurt. And long for a different ending.
I think
that the passage from Mark spoke to me because of the raw emotions that I have
felt since the death of my friend.
Jesus’ words felt true to me and as I read the verses, I could identify with
Jesus’ anger and grief. I see the man in
Mark’s story, coming forward, looking into the face of Jesus, and reaching out
to him. And Jesus heals him.
I think
that part of Jesus’ grief on that Sabbath day is on behalf of the man’s
physical and visible ailment. I do believe
that Jesus grieves with us when we have hurts that are not visible and that he grieves
for us when we are not able to come forward into his presence. I so wish that Travis had been able to step
forward. I wish that I had helped him
step forward.
I think
that I have struggled with the passage because of the confronting I must do of
and for myself. There is culpability in
in-action, in passivity. While I do not
believe that my in-action was the reason for my friend’s tragic ending, I do
believe that I had an option to help.
But there is still another level of confrontation to assess.
Jesus’
anger and grief is not limited to the Pharisee’s inaction in the story. They are missing the good, they are missing
the chance to be a part of something beautiful, and they are missing the chance
to see restoration—new life formed, in vibrant color—all because of their
hate. This, for me, is the origination
of the verse, “he was grieved at their hardness of heart.”
The
questions of our internal confrontation become two: How have we impeded healing and restoration
and what good have we missed because of our hardness of heart?
Does good
exist in places we would rather not find it?
Do other religions, some more liberal, some more conservative, do good
works, even though we do not identify with their beliefs? Do other people do good works, even though
they do not talk like we talk, wear what we wear, sin like we sin?
Yes, yes, yes,
and yes. Surely we are missing some
celebrations.
A film from
the 1990s, “The Ghosts in the Darkness,” is about an effort of the English to
build a railroad in Africa. Large
numbers of workers live together in a pseudo-village, made up of many tribes
and religions. As the railroad tracks
come to a river, a bridge must be constructed, but lions, the “ghosts,” start
attacking the village. In an effort to
keep the lions out, the workers shift one day from bridge construction to fence
construction, building a wall of spiky, thorny branches, around the camp.
At the end
of the day, the missionary of the village is washing his hands which are bloody
from the day’s work. He talks about how
his first goal was to convert everyone to Christianity. But he looks at his hands he says, “I like
the blood. We all worked together. Worthy deeds were accomplished.”
Just as we
are called to share the message of God with our words, so too are we called to
share the message with our hands.
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The Lord of
the Sabbath has given us the opportunity for rest and restoration. But God has also given us this day to do
good, to see good, and to celebrate when good shines through.
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