This Week's scriptures are Psalm 30 and Mark 1:40-45.
I started writing this blog and stopped. I stopped because I felt a need to live with the story in Mark for a little longer. To turn it a little more and examine it a little closer. All the reading I was doing about this passage left me asking myself, "what am I missing that this story might have to say to me in my particular position today?"
It is tempting to read this story and find the most comfortable place in it to curl up for a rest. To find the place in the story that comforts me in my position-political, theological, or otherwise-and focus my meditation and reflection there. There are some wonderful points in this story (and hopefully we'll talk about them on Sunday) about challenging the system and reaching out in compassionate anger to heal and reconcile.
But my problem in reading this passage was/is that if felt a whole lot like "preaching to the choir" when I stopped there. It didn't challenge me to act different, or change, or repent. So I chose to stop writing and spend some time asking myself not "who are our lepers?" (which is, by the way, an important question); but "who is leper to ME?" "Who would it bother me if Jesus healed and sent back into community?"
It was not one of my more pleasant exercises in meditation on scripture. I found myself realizing that there are a lot of people that I really, really don't like. What, I asked myself, would I say if Micheal Vick (you know, the football player arrested for his role in dog fights) came out and said he'd found Jesus? What would I say? What would I think? And he's one of the milder examples.
The truth is (if we go back to the scripture again) that one of the reasons that Jesus couldn't go into the towns was that by touching a leper He had alienated himself from a lot of folks. On the other hand, those who saw in His behavior the possibility that he might touch the secret, unclean places within them flocked to him.
This lead me to this final thought. There are places in me that Jesus cannot come as long as I have a beef with who He heals. The degree to which Jesus can move into my life, and heal my dis-ease, is directly related to my willingness to accept His healing the dis-ease of others. Certainly puts an interesting spin on the "forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us."
I'm still mulling this one over. Maybe we can find some wisdom together on Sunday. See you then.
Shalom,
Stephen
1 comment:
Well, you and I have had some conversations about this, and your honesty has helped me in this area. I know that I am still struggling to forgive some people (I even struggle to call them that...sigh) that hurt those that I love. What would I do if I heard they turned their life around? Can I say I don't wish for some sort of outward sign of divine justice? Can I *reject* that idea/desire out of love, and not fear that it would then be applicable to me?
In a very real way, it seems like the passage in Mark is clear that this reluctance on my part stands in the way, as Stephen says:
"There are places in me that Jesus cannot come as long as I have a beef with who He heals. The degree to which Jesus can move into my life, and heal my dis-ease, is directly related to my willingness to accept His healing the dis-ease of others. Certainly puts an interesting spin on the "forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.""
Just as the former leper disobeyed and made it harder (not impossible, but harder) for Jesus to move among the people, I feel the same could be said in my (our) case.
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