John 5.1-9
Let us pray:
Lord God, you sent your only son,
Jesus Christ, to make us well.
May we rise up, take hold of, and follow him
and by doing so become whole
in and through relationship with YOU. AMEN.
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First off, I have to say thank you, Kurt,
Because today is the very first Mother’s Day
I’ve preached as a real, live mom.
True, several years ago I preached
at a colleague’s church outside London
on Mothering Sunday.
True, it was incredible to have a child
pop out of her pew during the recession,
bow, hand me a bouquet of daffodils
and say, in a perfect English accent,
“God bless you, mother.”
But back then I was only
a mother in the spiritual sense.
I wasn’t a real mom.
It all felt, I felt, a bit fake.
So to preach on Mother’s Day as an actual mom.
That’s huge. That’s success.
Recently I read an article in Ladies Home Journal,
written by another real mom who wrote:
“I feel my entire life revolves around
only three things: work, children,
and the ultimate goal: sleep.”
We use this sign in school chapels to show “I’ve been there.”
Perhaps a few of you have been there??
As exhausting as this gerbil wheel
of work, children, and sleep deprivation is,
there are definite advantages.
Example? The Stagnaro household’s
“Quotable Kids” book. [show book]
A suggestion we adopted from Real Simple magazine
that all parents buy an empty journal
and over time write down things their children say.
Remember, if you do this now,
when the time comes to give
the toast at your children’s weddings
you’ll be ready.
Our journal notes Zach’s first word was actually
a string of words spoken one morning at 3 AM –
“Hello, is anyone there?”
Fiona’s quotes include:
Fiona’s quotes include:
“I am God’s princess.” and
“Mommy, I have a dirty diaper.
And you’re not gonna like it.”
But my favorite entry is one Fiona
spoke only three days ago.
After a particularly riveting episode
of Dora the Explorer as a doctor,
we asked Fiona what she wanted to be.
Fiona replied: “I would like to be a flower. Or a grape.
Not purple, though. A green one.”
You might be able to guess
what she was eating at the time.
I shared Fiona’s career aspirations the next day
with a particularly astute Fourth Grade student,
she said, “Yikes. She wants to be something that’s either picked or eaten. Not good.”
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“What do you want to be?”
It’s a question we all wrestle with
and subsequently answer over time
with words, choices, actions,
and even at times lack of action.
Ask anyone – adult or child –
and each has his or her own answer:
doctor, lawyer, interior decorator, green grape.
Still, the core answer to the question
“What do you want to be?” for all
is one and the same.
We all want to be intelligent, well-liked,
valued, noticeable, highly functioning,
connected to others, healthy, happy, loved.
We all want recognition and success.
We all, most certainly, do not
want to be picked or eaten.
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In today’s gospel, Jesus asks a man what he wants to be.
Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate
there is a pool, called in Hebrew Bethzatha
which has five porticoes.
In these lay many invalids –
blind, lame, and paralyzed.
One man was there who had been
ill for thirty-eight years.
When Jesus saw him lying there
and knew that he had been there
a long time, he said to him,
“Do you want to be made well?”
Do you want to be made well?
Jesus, are you kidding?
What kind of question is that?
John tells us Jesus KNEW this man
had been lying there a long time.
Thirty-eight years -- the same number of years
the Israelites wandered in the desert. [Deut 2:14]
So let’s just say the man made one attempt
every day to get in the pool.
Thirty-eight times 365 equals
13,870 tries to be healed.
Come on, Jesus, the answer is clear.
Of course, this man who’s been
hanging out that long by healing waters
wants to be made well.
Of course this homeless, job less, chronically ill,
without family, without a friend in the world
or for that matter at the pool
man wants to be made whole.
And this pool, he thinks, is the only way. Why?
Well, it depends what biblical scholar you believe.
Maybe the pool possessed curative minerals,
therapeutic effects similar to those
that attracted Franklin Delano Roosevelt
to Warm Springs, Georgia for his polio.
Maybe the man attributed the waters’
healing properties to Asclepius,
the Greek god of healing.
Maybe he believed, as several scriptural
translations purport, an angel came down from heaven,
stirred up the waters, and the first person
who got into the pool won a miracle lotto
of sorts and was instantly healed.
Any way you look at it,
the man though this pool
was his only health care option.
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Jesus asks the obvious question,
“Do you want to be made well?”
And certainly an obvious question
deserves an obvious answer.
But do you notice, this man
doesn’t give the obvious answer, “Yes.”
This man doesn’t even give an answer.
Instead, all he does is make excuses.
Instead, he wallows, in his own misery.
“It’s not my fault. It’s their fault.
No one has bothered to help me.
Someone always gets ahead of me, wins out.”
John Calvin comments,
“This sick man does what we nearly all do.
He limits God’s help to his own ideas
and does not dare promise himself
more than he conceives in his own mind.”
The man contains himself
by his own doubts, insecurities,
inability to think outside the box.
But the good news is while he
restricts his possibilities,
Christ does not.
Here in John there are no
requirements for receiving God’s grace.
No, “well done good and faithful servant”
now I will reward you.
No, “your faith has made you well”
we find in the healing miracles
of the Synoptic gospels.
There is only in John [Pulpit Resource, Ap/May/June 1998, p.31-34]
a post-Easter Jesus.
A powerful, risen Lord who heals,
sheds light wherever he goes.
A Savior who causes corpses
to rise, the lame to walk, the blind to see.
A Messiah who transforms
human pain and caughtness
into liberation and life.
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Last weekend, Fiona and I wandered,
as fiber arts addicts are want to do,
at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival.
It was the end of a glorious afternoon
of fresh lemonade, blue snow cones,
and hand painted yarns.
The two of us wandered over to a booth
filled with paintings of, what else, sheep?
One showed three sheep
following the star of Bethlehem.
The first dragged a toy duck,
the second an Easter Egg,
the third a wrapped gift.
I said, “Fiona, I wonder what is in the third present?
No answer.
At this point a nearby, more experienced
mom rephrased the question:
“Fiona, what would YOU
put in the box to give
to the baby Jesus?
Without a beat, Fiona replied: “Candy.”
Fiona, your answer didn’t surprise me.
You just wanted to give Jesus
something you adored.
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Our mothers, our fathers
help shape our souls
In God’s image they encourage
us all to be whole.
God, Holy Mother, Father,
calls us to be
Followers of the one
Who died on a tree.
Christ once asked
Do you want to be well?
The answer is obvious
clear as a bell.
“Yes, Lord!” we should answer
but this is our crime
What we do, who we are
doesn’t reflect all the time
That God is the center,
of yours, of my life
We prefer to cling, hold on
to doubt, fear, and strife.
Like that invalid man
we lie down and complain.
We stay still, make excuses
point fingers, and blame.
But Jesus commands us
to stand up and give.
Take risks, embrace change,
follow God, fully live.
So the answer, the gift
we each should impart
To God is ourselves
by words, actions, heart.
We are all different,
and yet are the same.
We want to be made well
in Christ’s Holy Name.
Thanks, Rev. Marjorie for your msg.
ReplyDeleteWho knew that your son, Zach, is a budding existentialist?
It is interesting to me that your sermons are written in a poetic form.