Sermon, February 9, 2003
5 Epiphany, Year B
The Rev. Lowell E. Grisham
St. Paul's Episcopal Church
Fayetteville, Arkansas

Old Testament -- 2 Kings 4:8-37  Elisha raises the child of the Shunammite woman

Gospel -- Mark 1:29-39 Jesus Heals in Capernaum; 

There are a lot of people at work in today's scripture readings. Elisha the prophet is at Mt. Carmel doing whatever prophets do, when he's interrupted by the Shunammite woman. The woman is coming to him because it is her job to raise her child. The child was at work with his father when something like a cerebral hemorrhage happened. And Elisha's assistant Gehazi is trying to manage the calendar and for his boss while being delegated responsibilities like laying the prophet's staff on the child's face to revive him. It's a tough day all around.

Seven centuries later we hear the apostle Paul reflecting on the dual nature of his work. He earns money as a tanner in order to free him for his real work as a volunteer proclaiming the gospel. He uses a strategy of empathy for that latter vocation -- to know the other, to be the other, and to walk in their shoes -- that way he can bring them the compelling good news.

And in the gospel, if you add the story which precedes today's reading about Jesus' visit to the synagogue and the story which follows of his healing a leper, you could title this whole section "A Day in the Working Life of Jesus, According to Mark." Mark describes Jesus' work as healing and exorcism. Healing brokenness of all kinds -- physical, mental, emotional and spiritual. It is evening work mostly, after all during the day everyone else had their jobs, except on the Sabbath when it was illegal to work. So at sundown Jesus begins. All evening long it goes, until the at end of a full night's work, Jesus goes off into the darkness of early morning to pray. Whatever comes of that prayer leads him to leave this needy town and travel to another.

Underneath these narratives are the challenges and frustrations of people trying to do their work. There are a lot of interruptions. A lot of demands. More to do than can possibly be accomplished. I'm especially drawn to Elisha's situation, trying to take care of the woman's problem with the child by delegating Gehazi. But she's staying with Elisha because she's convinced it is the prophet she needs. When plan one fails, Elisha gets up himself and goes and does the energy-demanding hard work of raising the child. When he's done, Gahazi will have to fill him in on how he got further behind at the office.

There is an appealing "spirituality of work" that invites us to do our jobs as our ministry. To ground our work in a state of conscious connectedness with God, and to offer ourselves continually in the service of the cause of love. Sounds good. I find it incredibly difficult to do. Maybe you do too.

One of my favorite spiritual authors is Gerald May who worked for twenty years as a psychiatrist in public institutions, military and state hospitals and prisons. For twelve of those years he was trying mindfully to practice the presence of God as he worked. It was the most frustrating thing he ever did. See if your life relates to any of his experience at work.

"I was very diligent;" he writes. "I prayed and meditated in the morning, and I reminded myself while driving to work. I could be conscious, consecrated, and grounded in the present moment all the way there, but as soon as I entered the ward, everything changed. I was immediately kidnapped. I was gone: away from the present, away from any sense of love or its source, away from even appreciating my own being. It was not a gradual transition; it felt like a thief in the night stealing my soul. One moment I was there; the next I was gone." (The Awakened Heart, p. 214)

There were three particular problems for him in his workplace. First was his sense of responsibility. It felt overwhelming. Too many patients; too few staff. It took all his efforts not to mess up, not to prescribe the wrong medicine or release a dangerous person. And there was the paperwork. He was drowning in paper, always just a few minutes from being caught up. Finally there was a sense of stress in the whole environment. It wasn't just him; the whole staff felt it.

Maybe the psalmist who sings for us in today's psalm worked in a similar employment -- "I cry out to you, O Lord; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living. ...Save me from those who pursue me, for they are too strong for me. Bring me out of prison, that I may give thanks to your Name." And he then looks forward to escaping to a new, kinder, gentler community. "When you have dealt bountifully with me," he dreams, "the righteous will gather around me."  Psalm 142

As he worked at the hospital and prison, Gerald May talked with friends, spiritual guides. He tried gimmicks: put a rock in your shoe to remind you of mindful presence -- he got used to the rock; schedule spaces for quiet in your day -- they got filled up with paper work. Nothing worked. For twelve years. So he stopped, and changed jobs.

Looking back from a place of relative sanity, he asked himself, what would have made a difference? One thing that doesn't work, he says, is trying to make practicing God's presence a project, something else you try to do. The biggest thing he said he needed to learn was the difference between making something happen and receiving something as a gift. Don't just remember that life is a gift, live it as it if it is a gift. And, speaking of gifts, he could have looked more for the help of others, he said. He was so responsible; after all, he was the helper; it hardly occurred to him in those twelve years that he could have been helped as well.

He thought about the psychological armor that he put around himself to try to survive in that place. Do we really need that much armor? Can't we risk being a little less defended, a little more vulnerable? He wished he had asked himself what really threatened him? Was it really a threat to his person, or more to his self-image? Nations will go to war to protect their self-image. People will do crazy things for the sake of a crazy self-image. Sometimes a little more courage, a little more dignity, a little more trust in God and in your own essential goodness can bring equanimity.

But sometimes we get stuck. When he asked himself if he was stuck, he found it was mostly money and insurance that kept him working there. So he rearranged his priorities and left a love-killing situation. Sometimes we are called to stay and work through a tough situation, learning about ourselves, maybe changing the environment, maybe only being able to intercede for others trapped in the same prison. But sometimes it is really time to get out before the gangrene spreads.

St. Mark's picture of "A Day in the Life of Jesus" shows someone moving from task to task with conscious presence of God -- helping Simon's mother-in-law; putting in a night's shift with the sick and oppressed; going to a deserted place to pray; making a decision to go help other villages; starting the walk to the other towns. That's a full day; a hard day. The apostles' witness tells us that he did that hard day's work while remaining in conscious communion with God. We're invited to relax into that gift of God's continual presence and loving blessing as well.

Gerald May describes it this way. "Think of your true home in God's love. It is where your heart is. It is your spiritual home, always right here and right now no matter where you are or what you are doing. ...Try a little consecrated Zen. Do one thing at a time, with complete, immediate mindfulness. Don't do it to get it done so you can get on to the next thing. Do it for love. Do it fully, sensitively, openly. Do it now. Then do the next thing. Chop wood. Carry water. Type letters. Read mail. Talk to your friend. Bathe the children. Giggle. Fix dinner. Balance the checkbook. Make love. Drink cocoa. Answer the phone. Complain to your boss. Fix the drainpipe. Walk from here to there. Schedule next month's appointment now. Work on the budget. Hammer the nail. Disagree with your colleague. Change the light bulb." (Ibid, p. 227)

May says that life can be lived that way. He knows it, because he lives that way... maybe four or five minutes of every day.

"[Elisha] got down, walked once to and fro in the room, then got up again and bent over [the dead child]; the child sneezed seven times, and the child opened his eyes. Elisha summoned Gahazi and said, "Call the Shunammite woman." So he called her. When she came to him, he said, "Take your son." She came and fell at his feet, bowing to the ground; then she took her son and left."

Elisha turned to Gehazi and asked, "What's my next appointment?"

The woman said to the child, "Would you like some soup for dinner?"

back to sermons