A Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost

July 21, 2024

Last Wednesday morning I attended the book group discussion of David Brooks’ How to Know a Person: The Art of Seeing Others Deeply and Being Deeply Seen. We were a big group, with some new faces. Amelia McDaniel suggested that we go around the table and share our names, and as an icebreaker, a favorite place—a place we like to go to when we need to get away, to rest. Some named a lake, or the mountains, many said the river (not necessarily the same “river”). I said: anywhere on the coast of Maine, any of those scenic villages on the water—have you been there?—tranquil, peaceful.

Everyone around the library table named such a place. And how about you? Where is that place you go to for rest and renewal? Have you been there this summer? Will you go there sometime soon? Are you feeling the need?

I thought of that question about a favorite place to get away when I was pondering today’s gospel passage from Mark (6:30-34,53-56).

Jesus sent out his 12 disciples by twos to call people to repentance, to heal the sick, and to drive out demons.

They returned from their mission and gathered around Jesus, and he said to them, “Let’s get out of here! Let’s go somewhere far away from the crowds, and the urgent human needs which continually press upon us. Let’s go to a deserted place, all by ourselves, where we can rest for a while and eat our supper in peace.”

Jesus’ favorite place is the wilderness, a deserted place, far from the crowds, away from human habitation. Mark’s gospel begins in the wilderness, where John the Baptist announced the coming of the Messiah, proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, and where Jesus enters into the gospel story through the water of baptism, the descent of the Holy Spirit, and the heavenly voice, which proclaims him to be the beloved Son. The Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness, where for 40 days and nights he fasted and was tempted by Satan, and he was with the wild beasts and attended by angels.

Jesus leaves the wilderness to call the disciples and to drive out demons and cure the sick and turn the hearts of men and women toward God by preaching a message of repentance—the Kingdom of God is at hand, repent and believe the good news!

In the imagination of the biblical writers the wilderness stands for much more than a deserted place or an uninhabited place, hostile to human life. In the wilderness God calls to Moses from the burning bush and commissions him to go to pharaoh to demand freedom for the Hebrews. In the wilderness the Hebrews journey from slavery to freedom and become the people of God. In the wilderness lives are transformed. So the wilderness is a sacred place.

The crowds not only follow Jesus, but they anticipate where he is going by using the biblical story of the Exodus as a roadmap. They go to the wilderness, because that seemingly godforsaken place is where God is powerfully present and provides for God’s people, giving them food to eat and water to drink, protecting them from peril, leading them to the promised land of green pastures, a land flowing with milk and honey, and creating a covenant of mercy, compassion, and justice, so that their common life might be a light to the nations, to the glory of God.

For the crowd, Jesus going to the wilderness creates that kind of drop-everything-and-do-anything-to-get-there excitement, the expectation that in him the God of the Bible is speaking in their own day a lively and life-giving word, answering prayers, making whole the lives of broken people, driving out the evil powers that enslave and oppress. It’s no wonder they run to Jesus, blowing past every boundary of propriety, interrupting his time away with his disciples, messing with their plans for a spiritual retreat, disrupting a much-needed vacation. They were desperate for good news, desperately in need of a savior.

They crowd the shore, with outstretched arms, hands empty and ready to receive, with pleading voices. And his response is … compassion. Jesus sees them as sheep without a shepherd. And in Jesus we see the compassion of God. Through his eyes we may see how God looks on human suffering. God sees our suffering. God responds to our suffering. God gives us Jesus.

One more thought: The wilderness is a place—but the wilderness may be a season. All of us might experience a wilderness season—a time when we might feel godforsaken … A crisis to our health, or to the health of a loved one, a rupture in a relationship, a loss of a job, betrayal, a loss of our sense of purpose when our children leave home, or when we retire from a career, or no longer have a job title or an office to go to … or we just have messed up, we’ve made a mess of our lives and hurt the people we love … and it feels like there’s no way forward or no way out, and we feel alone, and ashamed, and afraid to ask for help or admit our need of a savior.

What’s true of us individually also may be true of institutions of all types: businesses, non-profits, churches, and nations. We may wander in the wilderness as a people, just as our biblical ancestors wandered in the wilderness on the way to the promised land.

The really good news in today’s gospel is that we aren’t alone in the wilderness—Jesus sees us. And even as we turn to him, he turns to us, and meets us right at the point of our deepest need, at our lowest and loneliest. When we are vulnerable and most in need of a savior, Jesus is there for us. Christ Jesus is with us. The Lord Jesus is our shepherd and with him we lack nothing, indeed, our cup overflows, an abundance of blessings to recall through the practice of gratitude and prayerful reflection and by dwelling with the Word of God.

More good news: For his disciples, for those who follow him, who try to live and love like Jesus, we have the assurance and consolation of the scriptures, which witness to Christ’s care of his friends. When we have accomplished our ministries, and laid before him the reports of our achievements and celebrations—and our struggles, failures and disappointments, Jesus turns to us in compassion to say, “Come away with me. Let’s spend time together. Let’s break bread together. There’s so much I want to give you … Sure, life will interrupt our plans. We will find ourselves called to exercise compassion for a suffering world. We will need to be with people in the wilderness. It will be challenging and require our whole heart and strength. But we’re in this together. And I’ll be with you always.”

Maybe all this helps to explain why we are here today, and not at the beach, or the lake, or the mountains, or even the river. We want to be with Jesus, we need to be with Jesus.

And Christ Jesus? There’s no other place he’d rather be than with his friends.

Thanks be to God!

The Rev. Gregory Bezilla