Get Away From It All

Sermon by Pr. Craig Mueller on the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Lectionary 16 + July 21, 2024

Sometimes it’s too much for me. The over-stimulation, the information overload, the screens everywhere.

It’s almost like a nightmare. You just want space to clear head and think. You finally close your laptop and put down your phone. And you pull into a gas station. And there is a screen babbling to you about something. You sit in the doctor’s waiting room and there’s a home remodeling show playing. You’re at your gate, waiting for a plane, and CNN is on. You get into a taxi and video clips are showing. Stop. Turn it off. It’s too much. Take me to a deserted island to get away from it all.

Of course, summer it a time when we try to get away. But then you come home from an overly scheduled vacation. And you need a vacation to recover from your vacation. Or you know you shouldn’t look at your work email on vacation. But you know it will be worse to have dozens and dozens of emails upon your return, so you peak. And you get sucked in. And there’s a fricken mess that you wouldn’t have known about if you hadn’t checked your work mail. So you shame yourself. But now you know the problem and you have to intervene. So you make the call. And it’s worse than you thought. And now it’s on your mind. And it’s in your body. And you don’t sleep so well. But you’re supposed to be on vacation. So you wonder about turning off your phone for a week. But what if there was an emergency? Or what if there’s a big news story? Of what if you became bored if you can’t check for a new message or post? And then you feel bad about that. And you just want to get away from yourself. And all the chatter in your head. And you take a deep breath. And you hold your hand over your beating heart. And you know that something’s gotta change.

Jesus knows that that his followers need to get away. They’ve been on quite a ride. Their mission tour began with rejection in Jesus’ hometown. And before they knew it, people were pressing in on him, to be healed. And now there is hustle and bustle. Coming and going, with no time even to eat. They are hurried and harried, wearied and worn out. And then there is the huge loss we heard about last Sunday: the beheading of John the Baptist by Herod. They certainly need time to clear their head and take in such violence.

But the crowd finds them. And Jesus, as he always does, has compassion on them. They are like sheep without a shepherd. Wandering aimlessly. Without a leader. Without a path forward.

There’s lots of talk about our future leader. And plenty are not excited about either choice. And there’s plenty anxiety to go around. Some want to just get away from it all. Turn off the news. And that might be good once in awhile, but we do need to know what is going on in our world.

And what we have in the world are dividing walls. People moving further and further apart. Our reading from Ephesians speaks of the dividing wall between Jews and Gentiles, and names the hostility between then. Hostility—such a strong word but it captures the deep divisions today.

I mentioned a book by Rabbi Sharon Brous, The Amen Effect, in my eNews article on Friday. In the book, Rabbi Brous mentions an article she wrote many years ago to her community, urging them to hold not only Jewish suffering, but also Palestinian. One of Rabbi Brous’ former teachers, now living in Jerusalem, saw the piece and it tore him up. He wrote a scathing, public rebuke. Brous was a universalist, disloyal to her people and history, a greater threat than external enemies, he said. Because of her compassion toward Palestinians, he declared that he and she “no longer inhabit overlapping universes.”

When considering how people in our country have such divergent worldviews, it can seem like we are living on different planets. Different universes. In every story of our lives we can either be a victim, a hero, or a learner. Brous encourages us to be learners. To be curious about those most baffling to us. To learn their stories, their hurt, their suffering. And to listen with openness and compassion. To quote her: “A society devoid of empathy is at great risk of falling into patterns of dehumanization that have, throughout history, led to the most extreme acts of violence, including genocide.”1 Including extremist movements today that test the very limits of our democracies. And we see them not only here, but all over the world.

Jesus calls us to come away to a deserted, quiet place. To find rest for our souls. To unplug, gain perspective, see the bigger picture. We bring our children to this place to baptize them into a counter-cultural community—one that values spiritual centeredness and grounding, empathy and respect for all people, and courage to be agents of peace and reconciliation.

In addition to church and the gifts of community, where is that place you get away for peace and replenishment? Is it a time of meditation or prayer or another spiritual practice? It is unplugged time with loved ones? Is it a walk by the lake or in the woods.

Speaking of getting away, one of my favorite podcasts is The Hidden Brain, on NPR. In a recent episode, the guest mentioned that while on vacation most people are happiest about 43 hours in. The first’s are great. The first dip in the pool. The first cocktail. The first sandcastle. But gradually we become accustomed to the novelty and it loses its sparkle. The same thing happens in our everyday lives. We need to get away—whatever that means for us, to gain spiritual perspective. For then we are glad to come home, and we see our everyday lives in a new way.

In our over-stimulated lives. In a world of walls and deep divisions, Christ the healer comes among you this day. Looks with compassion on you and the needs of our weary world. Invites you to come away to this place. To be truly present. To find your true self. To let distractions drop away. And to find grace, to find hope, to find solace in the word and at this table. In silence and in music. In community and in solitude. And after being away from it all—for even an hour—you’re ready. You’re ready.

1 Sharon Brous, The Amen Effect: Ancient Wisdom to Mend our Broken Hearts and World, pp. 151 – 155.