8th Sunday
after Pentecost, Yr. B, July 22, 2012
Jeremiah 23:1-6; Psalm 23;
Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
Sermon preached at St.
Stephen’s Episcopal Church
Here’s how I imagine the gathering at the beginning of our
gospel story. The apostles are
returning in their pairs from the mission that Jesus has sent them out to
do. They are all talking at once.
“Jesus,
you’ll never believe what happened to us in Jerusalem.”
“Jesus,
Andrew and I were so tired after walking that first night that I didn’t think
we were going to make it into the city to find shelter.”
“Jesus,
Peter and I got lost on the path to Jericho and I wanted to kill him for taking
us down the wrong road.”
“Jesus,
Nathaniel healed a blind woman and her husband was so grateful that he let us
stay with them for a whole week!”
“Jesus, I think I need a new pair of
sandals.”
They’d
been sent out with one tunic and only a pair of sandals. They had taken a staff, but bread and
no money. They had placed their
trust in God and in fellow human beings.
Jesus had sent them out in pairs to preach repentance, to heal the sick
and to exorcise demons.
They
had done good work, very good work.
Their work was filled with adventure. They had touched other people’s lives. They saw needs, and creatively decided
how best to meet them. They had the privilege of witnessing the results of
their efforts. They engaged
people’s suffering and joy. They
encountered despair and hope.
Their work was truly meaningful.
Now they were back. Oh the
stories they had to tell Jesus, the challenges and the surprises; the truth
they uncovered. Finally, Jesus
tells them it’s time to rest. “Come
away to some lonely place all by yourselves and rest for a while.” So
Jesus gets them all in a boat and sets off toward a lonely place.
At
our clergy Bible study this week, many of us felt this passage gave us a great
opportunity to talk about Sabbath, the importance of rest. But it’s hard to talk about Sabbath,
without first talking about work.
In fact much of what happens in these texts is “work”, good work … yes,
but work nonetheless. Dorothee
Soelle was a German theologian. In
1984 she wrote a great little book entitled, To Work and to Love: A Theology
of Creation. In it she talks about work and alienation through the lens
of a woodcut sent to her by a friend.
The woodcut is a picture of a man chained to a treadmill. Soelle says, “The treadmill is a
poignant image of work as a curse, yet this is what work means for the majority
of the population.”[1] We may think of a treadmill as a piece
of exercise equipment but she quotes the New Webster dictionary definition of
treadmill. It is “a mechanism
consisting of a belt wound around two cylinders, kept in motion by a man (or a
beast of burden) forced to tread it, and formerly used as an instrument of
torture.”
How
many of us describe our work as running on a treadmill? We’d like to get off, but we can’t
because work in our day is not about meeting society’s needs. It is about making money that we need
to survive. In order to make
money, many of us must resort to walking or running on a treadmill. In today’s economy, I think that is
especially true. People are taking
jobs they might not take if given other options. Some might be eligible to retire, but the unpredictability
of our economic recovery makes them think twice before giving up stable
employment. We’re tied to that
treadmill.
Soelle
says that being on the treadmill dehumanizes the worker and alienates us from the
benefits of “good work”. If we’re
“on the treadmill” we don’t get to look up and see the product of our
work. Imagine for instance, that I
work in the loading docks at the airport.
I probably hear way more about lost or damaged luggage then I do about
all the bags that arrive safely and quickly after the plane lands. Unless I work in the claims office, I
probably don’t even see any of the people I’m serving … and they don’t see me
either. I’m a disembodied baggage
handler.
From
my vantage point as a baggage handler I don’t have much opportunity to see the
big picture either. I don’t see
the whole process beginning with the passenger stepping into the airport. I don’t see them checking their bags,
going through security, and walking to their gate. I don’t see them waiting for a delayed flight, or boarding
the plane. I don’t interact with
the flight crew or the housekeeping team that prepared the plane for boarding. Planes come in and I load the cargo,
refuel the plane and make sure the food is loaded properly. The plane pulls out. Another plane comes in and the process
starts all over again. Sure, I may
understand that my part matters, but my part is pretty routine. I probably don’t see much change in it
from day to day.
My
work runs on someone else’s time schedule. I’m not free to make decisions about how and when things
happen. I report to work at 5 am
and I’m finished at the end of my shift.
By law, I am entitled to regular breaks, but when they’re over I better
get myself back on the job … or risk losing it to someone who can work longer
and harder.
If
I’m lucky I work with a team, and it’s the same team … so we have a some sort
of working community … but I’m not sure how much input we really have in making
our work more efficient or enjoyable.
It’s work. Is it supposed
to be fun? On our trip to
China, I sat next to a man who had worked as a baggage handler at the airport
for fifteen years after serving in the military. He was retired now.
He said that he didn’t miss his job. “It’s hard work”, he said. “It’s better for the younger guys to do it.” “Sometimes”, he said, “you don’t
even have to talk to one another because you just know what to do. You’ve done it so often. You know what needs to happen next and
everyone does it.” Every day, the
same thing.
How
many jobs in our society are like this?
Routine. Repetitive. Unsatisfying. Lacking any creative expression. Often poorly compensated. Is it any wonder that we care so much about time off? That we yearn for Sabbath time, for a
break in the routine? For the
freedom to create?
Work
that is vocation isn’t like this. Nancy, Hannah and I took a quick trip
to NJ this week to visit with Nancy’s father. We stayed in several hotels. One has stuck with me.
Everyone we met in that hotel seemed to enjoy working there. They probably did some of the same work
every day, but I don’t think it was exactly routine.
When
we checked in, the two men behind the counter kept up a cheerful banter with
us. They welcomed us in, and answered
our questions. They were really
nice guys. If the check in had
taken longer I wouldn’t have minded at all. They were quite entertaining. When we got to the room and didn’t have enough toilet paper,
I felt like I was calling a friend in the main office. They apologized and sent up a new roll
that arrived within minutes.
At
the complimentary breakfast, two women stood at the door and greeted each
person who entered. They watched
attentively as people found a table and gathered their food. If it looked like someone was having
trouble locating something they needed, one of the women was right there
offering to help. If something was
going in the microwave, they were there showing you how to operate the
controls. When we changed tables
to get away from the cold air blowing out of the air conditioner, they offered
to turn it off so we wouldn’t have to move! Even with all this personal attention, nothing was ever
empty for long. When anyone left,
they wished her a nice day.
After
breakfast I went to the fitness room to do my walking. Housekeeping was in there starting to
clean the room. They immediately
offered to leave and come back when I was through. One young man stayed behind to help me get my TV set up and
working. He even went and found a
new remote control when the one in the room wasn’t working. Later when we were leaving, I saw him
in the lobby with a paint brush in hand, on his way somewhere down the hall. He turned and caught my eye. He smiled and asked if I had had a good
walk. “Yes, I did”, I
answered. “Thank you so much for
helping me to get started.” Then
he wished me a good day.
Everyone
in that hotel engaged us.
Certainly they had tasks to accomplish, but their most important task
seemed to be us! They were there
to serve guests ... also to be housekeepers and clerks and food handlers … but
people were clearly the priority and they had the freedom to decide when and
how to engage us. They were part
of a whole system of caring, and no matter what their part, they had the
advantage of being allowed to connect personally with those they cared
for. They could interact with
those who benefited from their work … much like the apostles did.
I
bet they went home at night, with stories to tell … of a woman helped in the exercise
room … of families helped in the dining room … of people welcomed in for the
night. And then they went home to
rest. At least that’s how I like
to imagine it, because I think that’s what God hopes for us. We are part of the created world,
created to be in relationship with all of creation … but most especially with
other human beings. We are a
created people with natural gifts and talents that need to be used in
meaningful work. We are made in
the image of God with the same curiosity and creativity at work within us. We
were created for liberation, to freely contribute to the ongoing work of
creation in the world. And then to
rest, because we are made from dust.
We are finite. Only God has
the capacity to work without resting. Sabbath is Gods blessing on our labors.
Amen.
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