I want to be the first to wish each of you a Happy New Year! Some of you might be thinking I’m rushing the season a little bit. But I’m not. I’m not sure about the rest of you, but for me, the new year doesn’t begin January 1st. It starts now, with the end of summer vacations and the beginning of the school year. I think it’s part of our culture. It’s the natural time for endings and new beginnings. Our Jewish friends next door would agree with this. A week from this Monday, on September 12th, they will be celebrating Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. For them, I’m only a week early.
But for those of you who don’t believe this is the start of the new year, I suppose I could wish you a happy Labor Day! But, somehow, that doesn’t have the same ring to it. However, Labor Day is a lot like New Year’s Day, without the bowl games, of course. Traditionally, Labor Day is not only a day of rest, but also a time to take stock of where you are in your work. Labor Day speeches usually include comments about what we’ve accomplished and what needs to be done in the days ahead. So, it seems to me now is a good time to take stock of where I am, not only in my work, but more importantly, in where I am in my journey with God. Today is a good day for making New Year’s resolutions.
And that is what the focus of today’s reflection is to be about: what new resolutions do I need to make in order to seek and find Jesus, the Christ? But before I can even begin to make those resolutions, I need to ask myself: where do I look for him? Where do I see my God, my Lord and Savior?
We heard one approach in the first reading today: a very poetic view of the prophet Isaiah. Isaiah told us what to look for. He said, “Here is your God, he comes with vindication; with divine recompense he comes to save you.” And then Isaiah goes on to describe how we will recognize the Savior through the cures he will perform for the blind, the deaf, the lame, and those who could not speak. We will come back to that in the gospel reading for today. But for now, I’d call your attention to the next passages from Isaiah: “Streams will burst forth in the desert, and rivers in the steppe. The burning sands will become pools, and the thirsty ground, springs of water.”
These lines, I believe, remind us of many people who seek God in the wonders of nature. Some, and I am among them, find him at the seashore. With the waves dashing themselves upon the rocks. I see him in his power then. And when the waters run off into quiet pools, I see him in his nurturing gentleness.
Others find God in the mountains, in the peaks sharp against a blue sky or in a meadow yellow with wildflowers. Some see him in the beauty of a sunrise or in the glory of a magnificent sunset. Some find him in a quiet walk in the woods and in the aroma of the pine trees. Only you know if your God walks with you by the seashore, on the mountains, or through the forests.
Some people find God in places other than in nature. They find him in other people. Our second reading from the letter of James reminds us God can be found in others. There can, however, be a problem here, when we look for God in people. James reminds us we should not limit ourselves to only the “right kind of people”. When I hear what James has to say, I admit I become uncomfortable.
Imagine this with me for a moment. Say it’s the 10:45 mass here at Good Shepherd. Father Ed has already begun his greeting and his opening prayer, when two people walk down the center aisle looking for a seat. One of them is a young man in his late twenties or early thirties. Good looking, wearing an Armani suit. You can even get a whiff of the Halston aftershave lotion he’s wearing. And right behind him, there’s this bag lady. Her gray hair is stringy and sticking out in all directions. Her housedress is torn and dirty. The aroma she gives off comes from a different bottle. You’re sitting on the end of the aisle. Will you spread out so there is no room, or will you slide over? And when will you do it? As the young man approaches and before the bag lady can get to you. Or do you let the man pass by so you can offer the seat next to you to the bag lady?
Only you know if your God walks with you by the seashore, on the mountains, or through the forests. Only you know if his Son walks inside of only well-dressed people or can be found in bag ladies and winos.
There is a third place where some seek God, where some find Abba, his Son, and their Spirit. Besides in nature and in people, some find him in personal miracles. And that is what our gospel reading is about. For the next few minutes, I’d like to focus on this third reading. It’s a very complex reading.
First of all, there is that strange beginning about the cities of Tyre and Sidon, about the Sea of Galilee and some district called “the Ten Cities.” To understand why it’s so strange, consider this for a moment. Suppose you had a friend who lives in the Galleria area. And this friend made a trip out to Katy and is returning home. But instead of heading straight back to the Galleria, you friend goes to Tomball and then, instead of stopping in Spring, this friend heads out to Pasadena before going back to the Galleria. If you heard of such a trip, you’d be puzzled too. Why Pasadena?
Pasadena is not the usual way to get back from either Katy or Tomball to west Houston. And neither were the Ten Cities on the way from Tyre and Sidon back to Galilee. Jesus went there for a particular purpose. Tyre and Sidon, as well as the Ten Cities, were gentile cities surrounding Galilee. Jesus had taken his ministry beyond the borders of Israel to the lands of the unclean. And here he was, in the Ten Cities, surrounded by a crowd of non-Jews who were begging him to touch a gentile to cure him.
It may be debatable whether, at that moment, they really believed he could cure the man. Perhaps, they just wanted to see what this Jewish rabbi, this prophet and teacher would do. Would he make himself unclean by touching this man? And what did Jesus do? Rather then bowing to the wishes of the crowd, Jesus took the man off by himself. And there, when the two of them were alone, Jesus touched the man and said, “Be opened”. And the man heard and began to proclaim the wonders of God.
Is there a message here for us? In order to find God, do I, also, sometimes need to get away from the crowd, from the demands surrounding me so I can be alone with Jesus? Is it then, and only then, that he can touch me? Heal me? Is it then that he can say to me: “Be opened?”
Jesus cured a man who could not hear, one who could not speak clearly, who had a speech impediment, a stammer. Are there times when I cannot hear him, and as a result, can only stutter and stammer my way through life? Until he comes to me. That seems to me to be a central message in today’s readings: my need to go off, alone with Jesus, so he can touch me, open my ears and give me the power to proclaim his goodness.
Yet, it might be there is still a deeper message. A message that Mark in his writings is trying to tell me. The gospel Mark wrote is a short one. But it’s, also, a difficult one to understand. In today’s reading, Mark says Jesus told the man not to tell anyone about the cure. But the more Jesus ordered him not to, the more the man and the crowds around them spread the story. Some might believe Jesus is just using “human psychology.” The more you tell someone not to say something, the more it will be spread around. But that kind of manipulation is not part of the character of the Jesus I believe in. I don’t believe Jesus ever tried to manipulate anyone.
To understand what is going on, we need to take a quick look at an aspect of Mark’s gospel bible scholars call the “messianic secret”. I’m not going to go into a long explanation of Mark. Sister Alice and Cathy Bindas are offering a six-week bible study on the Gospel of Mark. If you want to learn more about this gospel, I’d urge you to attend their class. For now, I want to mention only one thing about this so-called “”messianic secret”. Certain bible scholars point out it is only in Mark’s gospel that Jesus cures people or drives out demons and then asks them not to tell about what has happened. The other gospel writers do not include this admonition to keep miracles a secret.
These bible scholars go on to say Mark wrote for a community in which he wanted to make a major point: people should not follow Jesus just because of the personal miracles and cures he performed. This is why Mark has Jesus asking people not to speak about the miracles. Instead of focusing on miracles, the focus of Mark’s gospel is on the cross, upon the suffering servant who came to save us. And most importantly, Mark focuses on our need to join with the suffering of Jesus. Mark’s gospel tries to encourage us to help others, to suffer with others.
Just as Jesus groaned in pain when he cured the man in today’s reading, we, too, are asked to share the pain of those who are with us on our journey. We are to find our Lord in those he has come to heal, we are to be his co-healers. We must be willing to help others in their suffering. We may look for God in nature, we may see him in others, but for Mark, the only way to find him is to search for him in the suffering and in the helping of those we meet.
We can listen to today’s gospel and ask ourselves: do I believe Jesus is Lord, because of his miracles, because of what he does for me that is out of the ordinary. Or do I believe Jesus is Lord because he suffered for me and asks me to help others in their suffering and to suffer with them?
As summer ends and we begin a new year of labor, whether in school, at home, in a job, a career, or a profession, what resolutions do I need to make? In the days, weeks and months ahead, where do I resolve to look for Jesus? Where will I find him? Where will he find me?
Twenty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time; September 4, 1988
Is 35:4-7; Jas 2:1-5; Mk 7:31-37