EVERYONE IS SEARCHING FOR YOU
A sermon preached by
Rev. Dr. Randle R. (Rick) Mixon
First Baptist Church, Palo Alto, CA
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Text: Mark 1:29-39
They saw the little boy, not more than 4 or 5, walking alone, headed resolutely down the road. He was going somewhere. They stopped to ask him if he was lost and needed help. The kind woman, worried about this lost child, said, “You know, I’ll bet everyone is searching for you.” His clear response was “But it’s Sunday morning, I’m going to church.” “All by yourself?” the man gently questioned him. “Yes,” was his reply, “everyone else is too busy today.”
When they delivered him back to his grandparents house, following his clear directions, the couple discovered that everyone was busily preparing for the wedding of one his aunts that afternoon. In the boy’s limited worldview, this was no reason not to go to church. That is what one did on Sunday. This change of routine made no sense to the child’s notion of right and wrong. The angry response to the runaway was corporal; the story itself has come down over 50 years in my family. It’s Sunday once again and church still seems like the right place to be.
Luke tells a story, early in his gospel, of a lost boy. He says that the boy’s parents went down to Jerusalem from their home in Nazareth every year for the Passover Festival. It was a powerful tradition for his people and faithful families like his always made the journey. Jerusalem and the temple were the place to be for Passover. This was no easy drive across town for these folk; their journey entailed several days of walking across the rough roads of Palestine, coming and going
The festival was over and they were headed home. The parents had covered a whole day’s journey without worrying about their 12 year old son, whom they assumed was in the group of travelers, hanging out with the other children his age. But as night fell and they started to make camp, they realized he was nowhere to be found among their relatives and friends. In the sort of panic only concerned parents can know, they began to retrace their steps, looking for their lost boy. They had everyone searching for him.
For three long days they searched, returning to the city and combing its teeming, ancient streets, their despair growing by the moment, until they finally found him, calmly sitting among the teachers in the temple, listening to the sages and asking them questions.
Needless to say, his parents were angry, relieved, and astonished to find him in such a situation. His mother chided him, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been looking for you in great anxiety. In fact, don’t you realize that everyone is searching for you?” He looked at her, bemused, and said, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know I must be in my Father’s house?” Neither Luke nor history records how he was punished, if indeed he was, but the writer does say that he went on home with his parents and was obedient to them (Luke 2:41-51.)
Some 18 years later, we meet this boy, now grown to maturity, ready to embark on the ministry that Luke’s story foreshadows. Shifting gospel accounts, the writer of Mark, in typically concise and active language, sets the stage for the unfolding of Jesus’ life and ministry. Jesus begins, not in the temple in Jerusalem, but in the synagogue in Capernaum, a fishing village on the north shore of the Sea of Galilee, on his home turf. It is the Sabbath. Where else might we expect to find him than in the synagogue with his faith community? In a sense, he is in church, on the day set aside for such activity, because he knows that is where he is supposed to be.
Now, as has happened in many a devout home over the years, the preacher was invited for dinner. Modern archaeology places Peter’s home literally next door to the synagogue, so where else would they go next? It is clearly the place to be given its proximity to the house of worship coupled with Peter’s newly made promise to follow Jesus. But there is a problem. Peter’s mother-in-law, who apparently functions as the hostess in this household, is quite ill. Of course, it is still the Sabbath and healing one who is not deathly ill is forbidden. But Jesus, who has already demonstrated his authority by performing an exorcism in the synagogue on that very day, again moves with authority to heal the woman.
Barclay says that “there were many exorcists in the time of Jesus…they worked with elaborate incantations, and formulae, and spells, and magical apparatus.” Peter’s mother-in-law probably had what the Talmud called “’a burning fever’…very prevalent in that part of Galilee.” The Talmud actually lays out a method for curing such a fever. “A knife wholly made of iron was tied by a braid of hair to a thorn bush. On successive days [certain scriptures were] repeated…Then a certain magical formula was pronounced, and thus the cure was supposed to be achieved” (William Barclay, The Daily Study Bible: The Gospel of Mark, p. 29.)
But Jesus needed no such tricks. In power and authority, in compassion and grace, he reached out his hand to the sick woman and lifted her up. In a gesture that prefigures his own resurrection, he raised her. “Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand…” Though this healing takes place in the privacy of Peter’s home, it was still a violation of Sabbath rules. But Mark wants his readers to know that the Sabbath was made for people, not people for the Sabbath. In this instance, Jesus would not walk away from the need before him.
The scene shifts. Three stars were seen in the evening sky and the Sabbath was over. Suddenly, without warning, there they were, filling the narrow streets, pressing up against Peter’s tiny house – the sick, the lame, the blind, the deaf and mute, those who were tormented by demons, thrill seekers, the skeptical and curious onlookers. Mark, with his penchant for overstatement, says “the whole city was gathered around the door,” seeking some manifestation of that power and authority, that compassion and grace, they had seen in the synagogue that Sabbath morning. “Heal me! Help me! Cleanse me!” they cried. “Precious Lord, take my hand…I am tired, I am weak, I am worn.”
What else could he do? “…he cured many who were sick and he cast out many demons…” How long do you suppose they hung around Peter’s door that night? When, exactly, in the wee hours of the morning, did the last stragglers head back through the narrow, winding streets to their own homes? Do you suppose he even had time to lie down for a nap before he was up and gone? He must have been exhausted, his energy drained, his mind spent.
Yet, “in the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place” - some respite, some deep need, some replenishing of his own self drew him – “and there he prayed.” For one so sensitive that even a touch to the hem of his garment by a needy hand in the crowd made him aware that power had gone out of him, the press of the people, the need for help and healing, the demands for attention must have felt overwhelming at times. This alone time with God must have been essential. Kathryn Huey suggests that “For a little while, in the quiet dark before dawn, the pace slows. We get the impression, however, that this isn't a time of serene prayer but maybe a time of wrestling and questions, a break in the relentless pace and pressing needs of the crowds, yes, but also a time of wondering about the next step, and perhaps even anguish over the suffering that engulfs him. Jesus has faced down the temptations in the wilderness, but here in the city, he must be tempted by compassion to stay longer than he should” (Kathryn Matthews Huey, SAMUEL, Epiphany 5, 2009, at ucc.org.)
Not only does he ask for strength and sustenance for the journey he is on, he asks for guidance and the wisdom to deal with what lies ahead for him. Hear him pray again, in faith and hope, Isaiah’s words: “Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint” (Isaiah 40:28-41.)
“Here I am, my God, waiting for you, as I must.” But before he can finish his prayer time, Peter and the others have hunted him down, pursued him really. “Everyone is searching for you.” Is there that same chiding tone in Peter’s voice? What do they want from him? What do they expect of him? What struggles lie ahead? Once again, he is up and off – not giving them quite the response they expect, but the one they need to hear, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know I must be in my Father’s presence? There is much work yet to be done. The good news has to be spread more widely yet. Yes, the day has come and, indeed, everyone is searching for me – even those who do not know it yet. Let’s get going.”
Exorcisms, healing, the clamoring crowds, the disciples, so quick to follow, so slow to understand, the skeptics, the hostile critics – was he prepared or any of it? Are any of us, as we prepare to launch out into life? Sometimes it seems as if everyone is searching for you and you don’t want to be found. The demands are too great, the expectations too high, the criticism too painful, the cross too real. May the words come to us as they must have come to him so long ago: “Have you not known? Have you not heard? [T]hose who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” May we hear these words and respond like him – “Let’s get going.” Amen.