Hand me the axe. Let me be the one to make the first cut.
The Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany – Year B – RCL
St. John’s Episcopal Church in Vernon, CT
February 19, 2006
Isaiah 43:18-25 Psalm 41 2 Corinthians 1:18-22 Mark 2:1-12
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. AMEN
Good Morning. I am happy to be with you this morning, as St. John’s celebrates both Boy Scout Sunday and Theological Education Sunday. As a former member of the Explorer Rescue Post 512, I count myself as an alum of Boy Scouting and its Explorer Program. As a seminarian studying at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, MA, I have been asked to share with you something about the formation process for priesthood in our Episcopal Church. I am glad to be here on both accounts. Thank you, Jim, for sharing your pulpit with me today.
While I am a former scout and, hopefully, a future priest, I stand before you today a mother. As many of your know, I have a four year old son which means I have more than a passing association with toys. I’m sure you all know about Lego® blocks. I played with them as a child and my blocks have been mingled with the blocks James has acquired, but Lego® blocks are not the same as they were when I was a child. Mom and Dad would buy a big package of bricks with pictures of many creations on the sides and we would go about building and creating some of what was pictured on the box and some things from our imaginations. Today, one purchases a package with all the necessary specialized blocks for an amazing creation and a multi-page booklet of directions that have no words, just line drawings and arrows.
You are probably wondering why I am telling you this.
Well, Lego® blocks are the best way I have to explain theological education. You are building something that you have every expectation is amazing, but the directions are sometimes difficult to understand. You start off with the foundation of your family with blocks added by mom, dad, grandparents, and the significant people in your life. Sunday school classes taught by Mrs. Grous are a block. Vacation Bible School with Connie Satton and Mr. and Mrs. Galligan is a block. Formal education adds many blocks, but so does being an acolyte, and vestry and Cursillo. The feeling that God is calling you to ministry – ordained ministry – in the church is tested and examined and blocks are added as you prepare yourself to answer this call. Over time you will have created “something” and you present this something – yourself – to the church.
Now, those of you with children will know the satisfaction of finally completing the 1000 piece Lego® project and presenting it to your child. (Yes, we all start out working with our kids, but we just can’t resist the call of those little blocks. . .)
Just at the point that you are thinking about a Lucite case for your creation, the child takes one look as says. Let’s take it apart!
Seminary is just like that. You arrive there firm in your beliefs. Aware of God’s presence acting in your life. Having spent years preparing for the work God has given you to do. And they take it part.
I come to you today, almost two thirds of the way through this process, to report that there are many pieces on the floor. What is being reassembled is so much better. Ballast is being jettisoned and fragile areas are being made strong. What is being created is yet to be seen, but there are fleeting glances of something beautiful – a growing knowledge and love of the Lord.
But I didn’t just come here today to talk about scouting or seminary or toys, I came here to preach the gospel.
In our gospel reading this morning, we hear a story that many of us heard in childhood and we can retell it from memory. There was a paralyzed man who had some friends. They learned that Jesus was in town and decided to take their friend to see Jesus, but there was no way into the building. So, they climbed up onto the roof and lowered the man into the house for Jesus to heal. And there is a wonderfully happy ending with the man picking up his mat and walking.
But there is a little more to it than that, isn’t there?
Jesus is back home and the crowds have once again started to gather. That is a familiar gospel theme – when Jesus is present, others are drawn to be with him. This is the Jesus we know.
Let’s think about the five nameless people in this story. We know little about them. One man is paralyzed; the other four can move about and walk. We know that in bible times, to be paralyzed is to be cast off, without the benefit of a social services system, and to be viewed as dirty or sinful or both. This paralyzed man was different. Something about him allowed him to gather a circle of friends around him. Friends close enough to work for his healing, not just to make an occasional donation so that he could live and eat. We also know that this paralyzed man was capable of great trust. He trusted others to carry him – through the streets and onto a roof and into the presence of the Son of God – and he trusted Jesus to heal him.
These four men were different too. They were strong – physically and spiritually. They risked contact with a paralyzed man. They carried him through the crowded streets to the house were Jesus was teaching. They carried him there and did not lose heart when the house was filled. They were strong enough to carry him to the roof. They were strong enough to lower his body into the room where Jesus taught. They were strong enough to show an entire community their faith in Jesus. They were strong enough to do something unthinkable in order to bring about healing and wholeness. The gospel says, “When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."” . . . "I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home."
This is God’s house and He is here today.
He hears each song we sing and He listens when we pray.
Those words may seem dated and childlike, but they are true. We are gathered together here today in this House of God and the Holy Spirit is present among us. Soon, as we gather together around this altar, the Lord will be made known to us in the breaking of the bread. Jesus – the Word of God is present in this place waiting and willing to heal the sick and to make us whole.
But look around. This place is not crowded. There are plenty of seats. The parking lot is plowed. The doors are unlocked. The bulletins are printed. The choirs are rehearsed. The ushers are ready. Where are the crowds?
This is a difficult question to ask – as difficult to ask as it is to answer.
We live in a world scattered with the bodies of those in need of God’s healing. There are those paralyzed by illness and the degenerating effects of time and disease, but there are others paralyzed in different ways. Some are paralyzed by the effects of financial stresses, by addiction to drugs and illicit behavior, by troubled relationships, and others by grief and loss.
Perhaps they are not here because they do not know about God’s healing love. If so, we need to make him known in this time and place, and guide them to a deeper knowledge of him. Perhaps the challenge of walking into a new and different place is too difficult. We need to realize this and realize too that we are here to minister to others, those we do not know, those who are different from us, and perhaps those we do not care to know. God is calling us. Perhaps they have been here, but have fallen away. If we listen to the gospel message, we know that it is our calling to carry them back and to welcome them with open arms.
Perhaps entry to our church is not blocked so much by our physical bodies, as it is by our rules or our expectations or our demands. Could that be true?
Do we expect others to look like us?
To act like we do?
To worship in the same ways we do?
To believe the same things we do?
To vote the same way we do?
To love the same way we do?
To experience and respond to God the same way we do?
If our church by its structure keeps others from entering and experiencing the healing power of God, there is one response that Jesus affirms and it is found our gospel today:
Hand me the axe – let me be the one to make the first cut!
If this place is not handicap accessible, hand me the axe, we will talk out a wall. If this place is not open to those who are different, hand me the axe, we will carve out a place for many voices to be heard. If in this place we think and dream and act too small for the call that has been given to us, hand me the axe, we will make a way big enough for the cross to be at the center of all we do.
Our gospel this morning says:
Four men came to Jesus carrying a man who could not move his body.
These men could not get near Jesus because of the people.
They made a hole in the roof of the house over where Jesus stood.
Then they let down the bed with the sick man on it. . .
And Jesus saw their faith.
Can Jesus see your faith? Can Jesus see our faith? If not, what do you, what do we have to cut away? Where can we carve out compassion, where can we cut the chains of oppression, where can we unbind the forces that keep us from true reconciliation?
Let’s think about this for a moment. Remember the people you know who are waiting outside, in our community and in our world – waiting, hoping and praying for someone to help pick up their mat and carry them to see and be healed by Jesus. Can you see someone waiting to be welcomed into the healing embrace of God? Can you see yourself carrying someone to Jesus? Can you make room for those who need God’s healing?
This is God’s house and He is here today.
He hears each song we sing and He listens when we pray.
If you are, listen to Jesus. Listen to Jesus as he tells you that you are loved beyond anything you can imagine. Listen to Jesus and his words that your sins are forgiven. Listen to Jesus as he calls you to stand up.
Stand up and be healed.
Stand up and be forgiven.
Stand up with and for those who cannot stand up themselves.
Stand up and share the good news of Jesus in your life.
Stand up and glorify God.
May only God’s word have been spoken.
May only God’s word have been heard.
AMEN.
St. John’s Episcopal Church in Vernon, CT
February 19, 2006
Isaiah 43:18-25 Psalm 41 2 Corinthians 1:18-22 Mark 2:1-12
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. AMEN
Good Morning. I am happy to be with you this morning, as St. John’s celebrates both Boy Scout Sunday and Theological Education Sunday. As a former member of the Explorer Rescue Post 512, I count myself as an alum of Boy Scouting and its Explorer Program. As a seminarian studying at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, MA, I have been asked to share with you something about the formation process for priesthood in our Episcopal Church. I am glad to be here on both accounts. Thank you, Jim, for sharing your pulpit with me today.
While I am a former scout and, hopefully, a future priest, I stand before you today a mother. As many of your know, I have a four year old son which means I have more than a passing association with toys. I’m sure you all know about Lego® blocks. I played with them as a child and my blocks have been mingled with the blocks James has acquired, but Lego® blocks are not the same as they were when I was a child. Mom and Dad would buy a big package of bricks with pictures of many creations on the sides and we would go about building and creating some of what was pictured on the box and some things from our imaginations. Today, one purchases a package with all the necessary specialized blocks for an amazing creation and a multi-page booklet of directions that have no words, just line drawings and arrows.
You are probably wondering why I am telling you this.
Well, Lego® blocks are the best way I have to explain theological education. You are building something that you have every expectation is amazing, but the directions are sometimes difficult to understand. You start off with the foundation of your family with blocks added by mom, dad, grandparents, and the significant people in your life. Sunday school classes taught by Mrs. Grous are a block. Vacation Bible School with Connie Satton and Mr. and Mrs. Galligan is a block. Formal education adds many blocks, but so does being an acolyte, and vestry and Cursillo. The feeling that God is calling you to ministry – ordained ministry – in the church is tested and examined and blocks are added as you prepare yourself to answer this call. Over time you will have created “something” and you present this something – yourself – to the church.
Now, those of you with children will know the satisfaction of finally completing the 1000 piece Lego® project and presenting it to your child. (Yes, we all start out working with our kids, but we just can’t resist the call of those little blocks. . .)
Just at the point that you are thinking about a Lucite case for your creation, the child takes one look as says. Let’s take it apart!
Seminary is just like that. You arrive there firm in your beliefs. Aware of God’s presence acting in your life. Having spent years preparing for the work God has given you to do. And they take it part.
I come to you today, almost two thirds of the way through this process, to report that there are many pieces on the floor. What is being reassembled is so much better. Ballast is being jettisoned and fragile areas are being made strong. What is being created is yet to be seen, but there are fleeting glances of something beautiful – a growing knowledge and love of the Lord.
But I didn’t just come here today to talk about scouting or seminary or toys, I came here to preach the gospel.
In our gospel reading this morning, we hear a story that many of us heard in childhood and we can retell it from memory. There was a paralyzed man who had some friends. They learned that Jesus was in town and decided to take their friend to see Jesus, but there was no way into the building. So, they climbed up onto the roof and lowered the man into the house for Jesus to heal. And there is a wonderfully happy ending with the man picking up his mat and walking.
But there is a little more to it than that, isn’t there?
Jesus is back home and the crowds have once again started to gather. That is a familiar gospel theme – when Jesus is present, others are drawn to be with him. This is the Jesus we know.
Let’s think about the five nameless people in this story. We know little about them. One man is paralyzed; the other four can move about and walk. We know that in bible times, to be paralyzed is to be cast off, without the benefit of a social services system, and to be viewed as dirty or sinful or both. This paralyzed man was different. Something about him allowed him to gather a circle of friends around him. Friends close enough to work for his healing, not just to make an occasional donation so that he could live and eat. We also know that this paralyzed man was capable of great trust. He trusted others to carry him – through the streets and onto a roof and into the presence of the Son of God – and he trusted Jesus to heal him.
These four men were different too. They were strong – physically and spiritually. They risked contact with a paralyzed man. They carried him through the crowded streets to the house were Jesus was teaching. They carried him there and did not lose heart when the house was filled. They were strong enough to carry him to the roof. They were strong enough to lower his body into the room where Jesus taught. They were strong enough to show an entire community their faith in Jesus. They were strong enough to do something unthinkable in order to bring about healing and wholeness. The gospel says, “When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, "Son, your sins are forgiven."” . . . "I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home."
This is a wonderful story of Jesus’ healing power, but what does it have to say to us here today?
When I was a child worshipping across the way in our Children’s Chapel, we would begin each service with the words:
When I was a child worshipping across the way in our Children’s Chapel, we would begin each service with the words:
This is God’s house and He is here today.
He hears each song we sing and He listens when we pray.
Those words may seem dated and childlike, but they are true. We are gathered together here today in this House of God and the Holy Spirit is present among us. Soon, as we gather together around this altar, the Lord will be made known to us in the breaking of the bread. Jesus – the Word of God is present in this place waiting and willing to heal the sick and to make us whole.
But look around. This place is not crowded. There are plenty of seats. The parking lot is plowed. The doors are unlocked. The bulletins are printed. The choirs are rehearsed. The ushers are ready. Where are the crowds?
This is a difficult question to ask – as difficult to ask as it is to answer.
We live in a world scattered with the bodies of those in need of God’s healing. There are those paralyzed by illness and the degenerating effects of time and disease, but there are others paralyzed in different ways. Some are paralyzed by the effects of financial stresses, by addiction to drugs and illicit behavior, by troubled relationships, and others by grief and loss.
Perhaps they are not here because they do not know about God’s healing love. If so, we need to make him known in this time and place, and guide them to a deeper knowledge of him. Perhaps the challenge of walking into a new and different place is too difficult. We need to realize this and realize too that we are here to minister to others, those we do not know, those who are different from us, and perhaps those we do not care to know. God is calling us. Perhaps they have been here, but have fallen away. If we listen to the gospel message, we know that it is our calling to carry them back and to welcome them with open arms.
Perhaps entry to our church is not blocked so much by our physical bodies, as it is by our rules or our expectations or our demands. Could that be true?
Do we expect others to look like us?
To act like we do?
To worship in the same ways we do?
To believe the same things we do?
To vote the same way we do?
To love the same way we do?
To experience and respond to God the same way we do?
If our church by its structure keeps others from entering and experiencing the healing power of God, there is one response that Jesus affirms and it is found our gospel today:
Hand me the axe – let me be the one to make the first cut!
If this place is not handicap accessible, hand me the axe, we will talk out a wall. If this place is not open to those who are different, hand me the axe, we will carve out a place for many voices to be heard. If in this place we think and dream and act too small for the call that has been given to us, hand me the axe, we will make a way big enough for the cross to be at the center of all we do.
Our gospel this morning says:
Four men came to Jesus carrying a man who could not move his body.
These men could not get near Jesus because of the people.
They made a hole in the roof of the house over where Jesus stood.
Then they let down the bed with the sick man on it. . .
And Jesus saw their faith.
Can Jesus see your faith? Can Jesus see our faith? If not, what do you, what do we have to cut away? Where can we carve out compassion, where can we cut the chains of oppression, where can we unbind the forces that keep us from true reconciliation?
Let’s think about this for a moment. Remember the people you know who are waiting outside, in our community and in our world – waiting, hoping and praying for someone to help pick up their mat and carry them to see and be healed by Jesus. Can you see someone waiting to be welcomed into the healing embrace of God? Can you see yourself carrying someone to Jesus? Can you make room for those who need God’s healing?
Before we get to comfortable in here, it might be to our benefit to look around. Look at the people around you. Look. Really look. There is bad news here, isn’t there? There are paralyzed people who have managed to get themselves here today and they have propped themselves up in the pews. They are here for healing in their hearts, their minds, their bodies, and their souls. But there is good news here, also, isn’t there? Because. . .
This is God’s house and He is here today.
He hears each song we sing and He listens when we pray.
Brothers and sisters, if we all join arms, together we can carry those in need of healing to the altar and to the arms of Jesus. Like the crowds of Jesus’ day we will say, "We have never seen anything like this!"
We are not finished yet. I ask you to think for a moment. Look inside yourself. Look at the self you don’t show other people. Look at the self you don’t dare to think much about. Is there a possibility that the one in need of healing is you? Are you paralyzed by fear or health or pain or doubt? Are you the one on the mat?
If you are, listen to Jesus. Listen to Jesus as he tells you that you are loved beyond anything you can imagine. Listen to Jesus and his words that your sins are forgiven. Listen to Jesus as he calls you to stand up.
Stand up and be healed.
Stand up and be forgiven.
Stand up with and for those who cannot stand up themselves.
Stand up and share the good news of Jesus in your life.
Stand up and glorify God.
May only God’s word have been spoken.
May only God’s word have been heard.
AMEN.
posted by AnglicanWoman | 2:21 PM
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