Rest Time

 

Teddy loves camp, but like his dad cannot stand this one part...

July 18, 2021—The Eighth Sunday after Pentecost—Proper 11

2 Samuel 7:1-14a
Psalm 89:20-37
Ephesians 2:11-22
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

© 2021 Seth Olson

A couple of weeks back, I had the honor of directing a camp session at Camp Winnataska. It was the first time my son Teddy—a fifth generation camper there—got to experience this 103 year-old interdenominational church camp. I was reminded why time at camp is the best! Through his experience I could see such joy—horseback riding, time on the creek, singing songs, swimming in the pool, and being in the woods! There was one block of time each day though that was a struggle. And, it reminded me of how much I did not like this hour when I was a camper.

I despised this time above all other times. No, it was not swim tests. Nor was it dancing with yucky girls who had cooties—I mean even as an awkward and pimply tween, I liked to dance. I even liked the complete lack of air-conditioning, the time away from TV, and the not-so-clean bathhouses. The time I could not stand, I could not tolerate, I could not abide was none other than “rest period.”

You may think that I am a calm, laid-back, and contemplative person. And, as your pastor, I really do aspire to be a non-anxious presence. But, my true self is like a duck. On the surface I look placid, and yet underneath the water level there’s always churning and movement and activity. So, as a camper to ask me to nap or be quiet or even sit still on my bed during rest period was the greatest agony. Yes, I did have a cushy childhood! Still, I did not learn the great joy of napping or resting or even relaxing until later. Even now I’m not good at it. And, I’m not alone.

We as a society cannot calm down. Even during the last fifteen months of Pandemic time when much of the world slowed down, there were many people burning themselves out! This tells me, we are not good at resting. As someone once told me, “I don’t do nothing well.” Incorrect grammar aside—we don’t do nothing well. We are bad at sitting still. We are like kids who have been loaded up with sugar before bedtime or campers who just can’t sit still during rest time.

So what do we do when Jesus invites us to “Come away to a deserted place all by [ourselves] and rest a while”? How do we slow down enough to even hear him saying this to us? Can we utilize Sabbath time or moments of respite wisely?

In the Church we often talk about Stewardship of money or resources or even volunteering opportunities. But, just as important as our stewardship of these gifts is the stewardship of our time. As we enter the last bit of summer vacation, I wonder, how can we be good stewards of our times of leisure?

On the surface the phrase “Stewardship of Leisure” sounds silly, for leisure is spare time, time off, or free time used for refreshment. Why not let it just be spontaneous? Why worry about free time? Doesn’t that sort of structure defeat the purpose? To answer these questions, think about some free time or a vacation that felt unfulfilling. Maybe you came back more tired than when you left.

When we do not use our down time effectively it is akin to spending important monetary funds on something that you do not need, that does not bring lasting joy, or does not serve a larger purpose. Sadly, I have experienced a few retreats and vacations that depleted me instead of recharging me. Those unsatisfying moments of leisure were such because I did not think from the perspective of good stewardship. I was not thankful for what God was giving me. In other words, I did not recognize that the time away was a gift from God. I was a bad steward of time.

To listen to Jesus’ call to come away with him to a quiet place of refreshment is not about having the perfect plan. For that sort of over-scheduling can in and of itself defeat the work of the Spirit to create new spirits in us. So what does being a good steward of leisure time or time in general look like? Well, what does today’s good news teach us?

As you might have noticed, there is a hole in the middle of today’s Gospel lesson. In that space (6:35-6:52) is the story of Jesus feeding the five thousand. Don’t worry over the next five Sundays we will hear way too much about Jesus and bread to make up for this week’s missing piece. But, it’s important to see how Jesus’ invitation to come away to a deserted place did not turn out exactly as we might expect.

Jesus invited the apostles to rest awhile. And yet, that time of respite was cut short, as the Spirit intervened in the way of many tired souls seeking sustenance. They descended upon Jesus and his friends as soon as the protagonists reached the shore.

This onslaught of people meant that the disciples had no leisure time, not even to eat. Tired and hungry from their own missionary work, the disciples had been looking forward to a little rest and relaxation. Instead, they were tasked with helping Jesus feed the masses. It was as though a feeding ministry broke out in the middle of their retreat center! The time that God had given the disciples to rest was now time when God was asking them to work. Can anyone here relate to life throwing something unexpected your way?

Maybe all of us can think of a time during the last year and a half when we thought one thing would happen, but something else entirely came to be. Parents who thought having children at home would be great only to realize that teachers do not get paid enough money. College students who rejoiced at not having to get out of bed for class, then realized that Zoom classes can be more work than in-person classes. Recent retirees who looked forward to down time, but then struggled because of isolation during the Pandemic.

So, what do we do when life surprises us? Are we never to rest? Are we to give until we are burnt out, broke, and bone-tired?

Perhaps the fruit of this passage grows from an exploration of the way we see not only our free time but all time. Maybe you have heard of the practice of a rule of life, or as our Presiding Bishop Michael Curry calls it, a way of love. The purpose of this way is to find everyday practices that encourage and challenge us to give our first fruits to God—to give our best time to forming habits that nourish our relationship with Christ. When you thrive in your way of love, when you dedicate yourself to a framework that grows your relationship with God and neighbor, then all time gets transformed. This isn’t always easy to remember though.

During seminary I often felt like I had too much to do—papers to write, sermons to prepare, and work to do at my field parish. Sometimes I would just do the bare minimum. I would go to the required one chapel each day, but I shirked a second or third opportunity to spend that time with God and fellow students.

One day I was walking back from class with a friend. He began to turn toward the chapel and I started toward my apartment. I said, “I went to Morning Prayer already. I don’t have time to go to Eucharist today.” He responded humbly, “I don’t know what I have time to do until I go to chapel. Afterward my priorities become clearer.” After a deep exhale, I turned around and went to chapel.

Maybe in that moment I felt a tinge of guilt—like one of the disciples who just wanted to rest and not deal with the hungry thousands. Slowly though I have realized how wise my friend’s words were. Every moment of every day, God gifts us with the present. Each new day overflows with opportunities to grow our relationship with God and one another.

We need times of Sabbath, restoration, and healing, or else we will not be able to sustain our personal and collective ministries. However, whether it is free time or work time, family time or personal time, prayer time or other time God gives us each second, minute, hour, day, week, month, and year. All of it is a gift—regardless of what type of time we think it is.

At all times and in all places, we are called to give thanks to God for the present we receive. Some of those moments will be Jesus calling us away to a deserted place, and other moments will be times to forget our needs and serve those who are hungry. If we continue to give our best moments to God, we will discover something amazing.

Like how God transforms the bread and wine that we put on the altar each week into our Eucharistic Sacraments: the Body of Christ, the Bread of Heaven; the Blood of Christ, the Cup of Salvation, and like how God transforms the monetary gifts we bring to the altar as symbols of ourselves into the ministries of healing and blessing in this world, when we give our time to God, God transforms it and God changes us.

Each nanosecond we receive from God is already a gift. God beckons us to give each moment back, so that it may be blessed and sanctified. Like how a child might get markers and paper from a parent, but what they give back is pure gift for that parent! All moments are gifts. Can you recognize them as such and give them back to God? This will be easy during a calm moment with Christ, but what about when the would-be-tranquil-times are interrupted by a chance for ministering to another? Even then, this moment is a gift. When we recognize that all time is gift it is easy to give the present back to God and one another. Amen.

Lost and Found

Yes, not all who wander are lost, but for those who are lost, know there is one seeking you.

 

© Seth Olson 2021
January 17, 2021—Second Sunday after the Epiphany

1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20)
Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17

 1 Corinthians 6:12-20
John 1:43-51

 

A video of this sermon may be found here. 

Holy God, let my words be your words, and when my words are not your words, let your people be cunning enough to know the same. Amen.

Over the last ten months we have felt great loss—our way of being, jobs, days at school, big events, small “normal” moments, and worst of all loved ones. And, over the last eleven days we have felt not only loss but lost. There are wise, prophetic ones among us who have pointed to a sort of rudderless drifting apart in our country for years even decades, but a violent mob attacking the very seat of our democracy crystallized just how unmoored and divided we are as people. As we glide without clear direction, I yearn to be found. I yearn for us all to be found.

This desire for us to be found and brought back together does not mean that those who incite and enact violence, whether in the streets across our country or in the halls within our Capitol, should not face justice. We would float further adrift by simply jumping from here to peace without there being consequences to make right what has gone wrong. As the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. (whom we celebrate tomorrow) said, “There can be no justice without peace, and there canbe no peace without justice.” Even enacting justice though may not move us from being lost to being found. We will, I believe, still be a divided and lost nation, as long as we tether ourselves to self-serving power, see each other as the enemy within, and do not seek to find Christ within our “lost” neighbors. (To be clear, each and every one of us is lost from time-to-time.) What do we do?

Have you ever lost something? I worked at a camp for several summers, and without fail every Saturday morning when a session would end, a giant mound of lost items would appear. In the midst of the madness of camp checkout, staff members and hut leaders would lay out dusty hats, wet aqua socks, and discarded box fans. Then every week, a determined mother keenly aware that her son had forgotten his new pair of shoes would drag him all the way back from the parking lot to pick them out of that pile.

Or, a father knew his child well enough to get that she had forgotten the fan they bought specifically for camp. How did they know? It is amazing to see the determination of a parent who realizes her child has forgotten something—it’s even more amazing to see our Incarnate God in search of not a lost item, but us who are lost.

In today’s Gospel account we see Jesus finding two disciples. We observe with great clarity not only Emmanuel—God with us—but also a God who seeks and finds us. Jesus makes quick work of finding Philip, but what may be more pertinent to our current state of wandering is how Jesus and Philip find Nathanael.

John’s Gospel account simply states that upon Jesus arriving in Galilee he found Philip. All it took to win this one over was for Jesus to declare, “Follow me.” Immediately, then Philip “found” Nathanael. Of course, describing this as a “finding” seems premature—sure Phil saw his buddy Nathan, but the latter friend still seemed lost.

Philip excitedly described meeting Jesus, blurting out, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Imagine being part of a people who had waited for generations, for centuries to see the fulfillment of both the law and the prophets. Then, instead of finding that one, that one actually finding you! Nathanael though remained more practical, pragmatic, skeptical, even to the point of cynicism.

Does this sound familiar? It sounds like where many of us are. We wait for the other shoe to drop! Nathanael though is like the “You are here” dot on the shopping mall map, but where are we going? Come and see.

Nathanael responded to Philip’s excitement with a wet-blanket-of-a-statement: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Nathanael had a point! Nazareth was not a place that was highlighted by the prophets. Bethlehem? Yes! Nazareth? No.

So, Nathanael presupposed the skepticism and cynicism we have in our current moment: Can anything good come from our current struggles as a country?

If you anxiously doom-scroll through Twitter, Facebook, or other social media, you will probably answer that question with a big NO! As we nervously anticipate the next moment of horror in our world, our country, our state, our city, or our own lives we easily gravitate towards questions like, “Can anything good come from the left? From the right? Montgomery? Washington D.C.? This president? The next president? My crazy family member? My annoying neighbor?

With this sort of questioning, I wonder if Nathanael even wanted to be found. Yes, Philip “found” him and even coaxed him into meeting Jesus, but a cloud of cynicism remained. I wonder if that’s how you feel. It is a sensation, along with emotions like fear, anger, and sadness that I feel.

Sometimes these emotions are difficult to sit with. Maybe we are not anxious like Nathanael, but perhaps we escape in another way—maybe we busy ourselves like Martha. We in the Church often draw the distinction between Martha and Mary. Martha was a do-er. She eagerly set about at tasks and blamed her own unhappiness on her sister’s inaction. Mary instead “chose the better path,” as Jesus put it. For she sat and learned from Christ Jesus. She was a be-er.

We do not as often contrast the two disciples in today’s Gospel lesson. Nathanael was doubting, individualistic, and straight-forward. Philip was curious, simple, and winsome. More on both men in a moment. In truth though, we are neither Martha nor Mary, we are both women. We must have both and are encouraged to integrate the gift of being present even into moments of doing. Likewise, we are both Philip and Nathanael.

Why we might yearn to be like Philip appears self-evident. He believed Jesus easily. He followed him. He did not use a hammer to attract his friend to Jesus, but rather he simply said, “Come and see.” He in some ways is like Mary—a faithful straightforward believer.

Being like Nathanael does not carry the same self-apparent shine, even if it is how a lot of us feel right now. He doubted his friend. He was skeptical. He was even cynical. And yet, his own transformation helps us all the more in this challenging moment.

Straightaway when Jesus saw Nathanael coming, he proclaimed, “Here is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael was put back. “Where did you get to know me?” he wondered aloud. In Nathanael’s words we discover that Jesus spoke truthfully. Nathanael was a straightforward man—an opinionated one who would not hold back, as seen in his “Can anything good?” questioning.

Jesus’ responded to Nathanael’s question by saying, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” With this Nathanael was blown away! Most scholars are not quite sure why this of all things unlocked Nathanael’s faithfulness, as he then called Jesus, not only “Rabbi” meaning teacher, but also the Son of God! Two helpful and relatable insights though about Nathanael being spotted under a fig tree.

First, fig trees are symbolic in Israel. We find them mentioned throughout the Hebrew Bible. In the First Book of Kings, during King Solomon’s reign each man lived under his own vine and fig tree. This tree represented the safety, security, and dignity of having one’s own home, but there was also something individualistic about it. Our own first President George Washington was fond of this imagery, as fans of the musical Hamilton may recall from the song “One Last Time.” Back to our passage, perhaps it was just Nathanael sitting under a tree, or maybe he was safe, secure, and dignified, if a bit isolated there. Regardless through Philip Jesus called him from there—Jesus did this by seeing him.

This is the second helpful, relatable bit for us. Some believe Jesus’ seeing to be a mystical ability to see when not actually present. Maybe, and sure that is amazing. What might be even more profound though, emerges when we recognizethat the one through whom everything was made, God, who created the universe,saw Nathanael. Nathanael had this epiphany too. Nathanael was noticed by God Incarnate. He was not alone though.

Friends, you are noticed by God too. God sees you—like a loving parent searching for you—even more than she or he searches for lost aqua socks. Jesus ends this encounter with another powerful image.

When Nathanael marveled at being seen, Jesus described an even more marvelous site. “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” This allusion is to Jacob’s vision in Genesis 28—Jacob’s ladder is something that many of us learned in Sunday School. What is remarkable though is that Jacob was not praying to God nor seeking God. Instead, Jacob was on the run, anxiously living his life, trying to makeit on his own. Does this sound familiar? To me it sounds like us!

We are living in disturbing days. In these times we may find it easier to apprehensively live our lives running away like Jacob, over-functioning like Martha, or being dismissive like Nathanael. These paths of escapism, busyness, and cynicism may make us feel safe, but we will eventually get lost. The good news is that our God does not wait for us to say, “Speak for your servant is listening,” like Samuel did in our first lesson. God is always speaking, but are we listening? Even if we are not, God seeks us out, like a shepherd looking for a lost sheep, like a parent looking for a lost child, like Jesus looking for a not-yet-found disciple. Come and see a path that leads to new life. A path that leads to justice, reconciliation, and true peace. Through Christ God seeks you, through Christ God finds you, and through Christ God calls us all to follow him into love. Amen.