Sermon 7/18/21: "To Be" Lists (Pr. Craig Mueller)
July 18, 2021
Lectionary 16b
Mark 6:30-34; 53-56
Pr. Craig Mueller
“To Be” Lists
Where do you keep your “to do” list? In your head? On little slips of paper? Do you use the “notes” feature on your phone or computer? Or maybe you are retired or on vacation, and you’ve sworn off “to do” lists.
Doesn’t it seem like yesterday when some were going stir-crazy in our apartments. Some of us were bored or lonely. Now we’re not so sure who we are. Or what our lives will be like now. Or whether we’ll just go back to the same stress we had before.
Americans are known for their productivity. Many of us are driven and competitive. Yet some of us don’t even take the vacation or days off allotted us. Crazy, huh?
The pandemic is causing many folks to look with new eyes at their lives. Their schedules. Their values. Their purpose. Their “to do” lists.
Whether the demands of parenting or work. Or the energy it takes to work for social justice, dismantle racism, or protect the environment. It can be overwhelming. The “do list” never ends. And sometimes we are not even able to rest and sleep very well because of it all.
Granted, some of us are doing well. Flourishing. Relatively healthy and happy. Maybe this isn’t the text you need. And speaking of “to do” lists, maybe some of us need a kick in the pants to get motivated and get our butt off the couch. Maybe this isn’t the sermon you need either. Thank goodness there is next week!
But let’s face it. One organizational psychologist describes the dominant emotion of 2021 for most Americans as “languishing.” A sense of emptiness. Not sure who we are anymore. A “dulling of delight” and “dwindling of desire.” Aimless, we might say. Sheep without a shepherd, Jesus might say.
At the same time, a new book by Kristin Radke, called “Seek You” talks about the epidemic of American loneliness. Not just in big cities—but everywhere. Radke looks at mass shootings, the effects of technology and social media, and what happened in the pandemic. And she quotes a former Surgeon General, who says that isolation is the most prevalent health problem in our country.
Stress. Workaholism. Isolation. Heavy stuff. Maybe Jesus can help.
Many people think of Jesus as a man-on-the-go. A man on a mission. A never-ending “to do” list of healing and teaching and casting out those nasty demons. So godlike, he is an Energizer Bunny, always reaching out to the one everybody else seems to ignore. He probably doesn’t even need to sleep!
Yet remember last Sunday’s gospel. The grisly and tragic death of Jesus’ beloved cousin, John. The drama with power-hungry Herod. And then John’s head on a platter. Can you imagine! That’s the stuff of nightmares. No wonder Jesus doesn’t quite seem himself. He’s probably preoccupied with grief. And wondering whether the same fate awaits him.
But after some setbacks, the disciples are motivated. They’re ready to roll. Ready to change the world. Gathering folks to their charismatic leader and this new “reign of God” movement. But they are on the move so much they barely find time to breathe or rest or even catch a bite to eat.
In between all his doing good, we read of Jesus’ need to get away from it all, for prayer and rest and renewal. Jesus sees the need of his inner circle. Jesus always looks with compassion and sees the need. Sees the longing in our hearts.
Jesus’ words to us: Come away to a deserted place and rest for awhile. Come away. Leave your everyday lives for a bit. Untether from your phone. Unplug. Get outside. Put your “to do” list out of your mind.
Certainly summer helps. It’s the time many of us groove on leisure. And relaxing. And kicking back.
It’s the “deserted” place. It suggests solitude and silence. Maybe that sounds good to you. Or maybe it sounds terrifying. Now I love people—you all included. But I also like being alone, being on a hike without anybody else around. A chance to clear my head, I guess.
What is it about withdrawing—retreating—that is good for our souls? Well, let me just say that the word “retreat” has been hijacked by the “to do” people. Not only churches but many workplaces go “on retreat” to do a lot of work. Sure, they may leave their usual building, but they are with the same people with the same problems with the same “to do” list.
I wonder if we need to get away from it all, and get away from everyone once in a while, to actually be with it all. The world. Our lives. Challenges. Losses. Time to figure out who we are and what we want to do with our lives. What we can change and what we can’t. And time to be with our longings: our disappointments and our hopes. Our longing for justice and freedom. Our longing for healing and wholeness.
Come away to a deserted place, Jesus says. Sure, we can walk in nature or put in some earplugs. We can get away from everyone and everything. But what if the deserted place to retreat . . . is within ourselves?
What if, instead of making a “to do” list, we made a “to be” list. Or rather, we learned how to be. To be with what is. To be who we are. To be comfortable in our skin. To be at peace in the world.
Abraham Joshua Heschel, perhaps the most-well known Jewish theologian from last century, wrote: “Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy. And yet being alive is no answer to the problems of living. To be or not to be is not the question. The vital question is: how to be and how not to be?”
Lutherans talk so much about being saved by grace rather than works. But most of us feel our self-worth comes from our work and what we accomplish. And whether we live up to somebody’s standards. Or whether we are better or work harder than other people. But that is not grace.
A “to be” list starts with grace. You are of worth. Simply for who you are. And Christ the shepherd is not like the other power-hungry leaders. He breaks down the walls that divide us. And gives us courage to vulnerable with ourselves and one another.
The Risen Christ sees your loneliness. Your stress. Your longings. And looks with compassion on you and all the needy of this world.
When your soul is weary, Christ leads you beside still waters and gives you rest. When your body ails, Christ anoints your head with oil. When you journey through life’s darkest valley, Christ accompanies you every step of the way. And leads you back to this community. And to the feast at this table.
And there is no other place I would rather be.
