St. Paul’s Church in
Bergen, Jersey City NJ
September 20, 2015
Year B, Proper 19:
The Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37
“Grant Us, Lord, Not to be Anxious About Earthly Things”
For
a couple of reasons, I found the words of today’s opening prayer, today’s collect,
especially meaningful:
“Grant
us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly;
and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold
fast to those that shall endure…”
“Grant
us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things…”
I’m
sure this prayer was particularly meaningful to me – and maybe to you, too –
because there sure is a lot of anxiety in the air these days, isn’t there?
There’s
a lot of anxiety in the world, particularly in Europe, as it faces wave after
wave of refugees fleeing war and chaos especially in Syria, but also other
parts of the Middle East and Africa.
Life
has gotten so horrible in those places that people are willing to leave behind everything
and everyone they know and set off on a long and dangerous trek to countries
where they know they will not exactly be welcomed with open arms.
There’s
anxiety in European countries, especially the smaller and poorer ones, about
how they are supposed absorb thousands of new people – people unable to care
for themselves – people with a very different culture, speaking different
languages and practicing a different religion.
The
anxiety has gotten so great that, sure enough, fences are being built, borders
are closing and shots are being fired.
And,
of course, there’s anxiety in our own country, too.
There’s
anxiety about our supposedly recovering economy – a recovery that many of us
have yet to feel.
There’s
anxiety about our rapidly changing country – a country where white people are
quickly becoming a minority. And, we hear that anxiety expressed these days in
some of what passes as political discussion in our country – in the calls by
some to build impossibly long walls, in the calls to deport impossibly large
numbers of people, in the calls to “take back our country” – from whom is
usually left unsaid, at least in public.
This
week we saw the anxiety flare up in Irvine, Texas when a 14 year-old boy, Ahmed
Mohamed, created science project – a clock - to impress his new classmates, but
because he’s a Muslim some of his school’s teachers and administrators were
afraid it might be a bomb – and so they called the police and he was arrested.
Maybe
some of you saw the picture of him, handcuffed, and looking so frightened.
Anxiety.
And,
then there’s the anxiety closer to home.
I’ll
admit to feeling a good bit of anxiety these days as I try to fit together
serving as your rector and also full-time high school teaching. I’ve had some
bad nights of sleep, tossing and turning, thinking anxiously if I’ve made a big
mistake.
And,
I know that many of you have anxiety in your lives – anxieties about health,
and employment, about children and grandchildren, and anxieties about whether
you’ll be able to pay the rent, to pay the bills -or not.
“Grant
us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things…”
And,
actually, there’s a lot of anxiety in both last week’s and today’s gospel
lessons.
If
you were here last week, you may remember that we heard Jesus predict what was
going to happen to him – what’s called the first passion prediction in the
Gospel of Mark.
Remember,
Jesus teaches the disciples that he “must undergo great suffering, and be
rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and
after three days rise again.”
Peter
doesn’t like the sound of that one bit – we can imagine the anxiety he felt
thinking about all of that terrible stuff happening to Jesus – his Messiah and his
friend – and the anxiety he felt about what all of that meant for him and the
other disciples.
So,
what does Peter do?
He
acts out and “rebukes” Jesus – a strong word – only to be rebuked by Jesus
himself.
“Get
behind me, Satan!”
And
then in today’s gospel lesson, we heard Jesus once again predict what was going
to happen to him – what’s called, you guessed it, the second Passion prediction
in the Gospel of Mark.
Jesus
says that he “is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and
three days after being killed, he will rise again.”
This
time, though, the reaction of the disciples is different.
Nobody
rebukes him – or, really, pays him any mind.
Instead,
the disciples ignore him and change the subject, talking about a very earthly thing,
arguing about who is the greatest among the disciples.
As
I’ve thought about these two incidents, I think they reflect the two main ways
that many, or most, of us deal with anxiety.
Sometimes,
like Peter, we act out – maybe we rebuke somebody, or we try to build walls to
separate us from the source of our anxiety, or, faced with a nerdy Muslim boy
and a homemade clock, we arrest him first and ask questions later.
Or,
like the disciples, the other way we deal with anxiety is we ignore it – we
quickly change the subject – we bury our anxieties deep in our gut where they
boil and churn, waiting impatiently for an opportune moment to boil up again.
The
disciples used two methods to deal with the anxiety caused by Jesus’
predictions of his own suffering and death: acting out and trying to ignore it.
And, of course, neither works very well at all.
And,
those two methods of dealing with anxiety don’t work very well for us, either.
But,
you know, if you read carefully last week’s gospel and this week’s gospel, you
may notice that the disciples – and maybe we – missed something important,
something central.
Both
times, Jesus predicts his suffering – and that’s something that nobody wants to
face – something that would make anyone anxious.
But,
both times Jesus also predicts – or, even, promises - that on the third day he
will rise again.
Both
times Jesus reassures his disciples, reassures his friends, that, yes, there
will be suffering – and some of that suffering will be terrible indeed.
But,
both times, Jesus also predicts and promises that Easter Day will dawn, that
light will cast away the darkness, that in the end God’s love will win.
Ultimately,
the problem with anxiety is that it blinds us to the good news that’s all
around us, especially right here. Yes, bad things happen and suffering is real,
but in the end, it’s Easter and love wins forever.
And
that’s why I tell people to come to church every Sunday.
Week
after week we come here with all of our anxieties – have I made a terrible
mistake – what will the doctor tell me when I see her this week – will I find a
job – will my kids be able to build a good life for themselves – will I find
someone to love – we bring all of those anxieties and more.
But
rather than lashing out, we bring our anxieties here where every Sunday it’s
Easter.
Rather
than trying to bury our anxieties deep in our gut, we bring them here where
every Sunday we’re reminded that, yes, terrible things happen, but, in the end,
love wins and endures forever.
“Grant
us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love things heavenly;
and even now, while we are placed among things that are passing away, to hold
fast to those that shall endure…”
Amen.
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