while it was still very dark . . .

5th Sunday after Epiphany

Mark 1:29-39

Agatha Christie said, "Dogs are wise. They crawl away into a quiet corner and lick their wounds and do not rejoin the world until they are whole once more."[1]

Each week as I start working on my sermon, I look for some intriguing way to title the sermon. Over the years, I suppose that some majority of those sermon titles have been, simply, a phrase from the text from which I am preaching. This week, as I read over the text several times on Monday, one particular phrase jumped out at me – “while it was still very dark.” It is such a descriptive phrase – it immediately caught not only my attention, but my imagination as well.

It intrigues me because I know this territory, this sensation, this opportunity. Hunters know about the hours before dawn. I don’t hunt all that much in the mornings – I’m really not all that good at getting up early. But during hunting season, and especially during the two weeks or so that I spend in Texas, I discipline myself to get up every morning – as Henry David Thoreau suggested; “I went to the woods because I wanted to live deep . . . and suck out all the marrow of life! . . . And not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”[2]

Four-thirty comes early – the coffee pot starts to brew, a few morning essentials, and then a short drive up the hill. There is a walk in the dark from the truck to the stand. It takes a few minutes to get situated, and then there is the stillness and the silence of nothing. Deafening silence. Absolutely nothing, until those first moments before the dawn.

It’s not in the context of hunting, but Jesus knew something of these pre-dawn hours. Mark lets us in on a little bit of the secret – he gives us important details. Jesus slipped away to regain something of Himself – reorientation, calming, focusing, gathering. He needed this time alone. Too many people needed something from Him, and you can’t give of yourself without it actually and ultimately costing you something. Jesus knew.

The larger scene is still in Capernaum. Mark tells us that when they left the synagogue, they went to Simon and Andrew’s house. I saw a documentary on this a couple of years ago – archeologists had unearthed some significant findings in the place that they think was ancient Capernaum. In fact, the present day residents indicated that they were descendants of Simon Peter. While we can’t particularly trust that information, I want to try to draw a mental picture of what this residence may have looked like. In those days, extended families lived together in something of a commune – there was a courtyard, surrounded by two-story buildings all around. There might be several generations of the same extended family living in rather close proximity to one another. It is likely that they shared all of their meals together, as well as many of the “household” tasks. Sleeping quarters were separated, but much of the living space was shared.

Jesus and His new-found companions leave the synagogue, and enter this living environment. They are immediately confronted by the reality that Simon’s mother-in-law is ill – she had a fever. We don’t know more than that. Someone tells Jesus, He goes to her, takes her by the hand, and heals her. Mark goes on to point out that she then arose from her sick-bed, and waited on them – I think he tells us this to illustrate that she wasn’t simply “feeling a little better,” but that she had found complete healing from her illness. She was well enough to get up and get to work.

I need to back us up to the story line from last week. While He was in the synagogue, Jesus was confronted by a man who was demon-possessed. Jesus spoke directly to the demon, and the possessed man was exorcised. Now we find Jesus being somewhat obligated to heal the mother-in-law of his host, Simon Peter. This is where the story gets predictable. Word begins to spread throughout Capernaum, and by nightfall, there is a steady stream gathering at the courtyard door. Mark actually says, “the whole city had gathered . . .” Evidently Jesus heals most, if not all of those who show up, and that day ends.

Most of us can identify with this scenario. We live complicated lives. Most of us live lives where much is required of us. We work 40 or 50 or 60 hours at a job where we serve various masters. We come home, hoping for a little sanctuary, only to discover that the fence needs mending, the clothes have stacked up in the laundry, the grass needs mowing, and the bills need to be paid. If that weren’t enough, the children complain about not understanding their math homework, and so we lunge into 8th grade Algebra again, all the while hoping to understand it better than we did when we were in the 8th grade. Dinner is served, and we sit down only to be disrupted by four phone calls – two from telemarketers, one from the PTA president, and one from your sister (whom you would really like to talk to for about an hour). The evening wears on, and suddenly we realize that the 10 o’clock news is on, and it’s time to start thinking about bed.

It’s not that we mind such a schedule. The pace of it doesn’t really bother us. We don’t really mind all of the interaction. But something does disturb us – the notion that we no longer own our lives, our time, our priorities, our destinies. Too many priorities compete for our attention, and we start to feel that not only do we not have a say-so anymore, but that we don’t have a right to have a say-so.

Does that feel familiar to you? Jesus must have felt something of the same – and He had only been at this ministry business for a couple of months. Here’s where Mark grabs my attention. “And in the early morning, while it was still dark . . .” He slipped away early in the morning, while it was still very dark. He slipped away to regain something of Himself, His priorities, His focus. And while He was away, He prayed.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t spend enough time just praying. More than 20 years ago, I was introduced to a theological idea that I found helpful in the past, but now wonder if it has truly been all that advantageous. I was at a point in my life where competing priorities were starting to take their toll on me, and at the same time, I was feeling some guilt about not spending enough time in prayer and personal devotion to God. Someone suggested that I learn to “pray as I go.” The theory was simple – that most of us live lives that are simply too busy to try to take any more time out of them for something as simple as prayer. So, we must learn to pray as we go – to pray during our activities of life. I didn’t spend a lot of time analyzing this concept – I didn’t really have any time to spend on it. So I rather easily adopted this as a modus-operandi. I stopped feeling guilty about not having time to stop to pray, and I started praying on the fly. I would pray while I drove to and from work or school. I would pray while I was in class, or on the job. I would pray when I read the headlines of the newspaper, and I would pray as I was moving my mouth toward that first bite of lunch.

Jesus set something of a different example for us. He may have lived his life, praying with every breath. But some of the time – in fact, quite a bit of His time – He spent in solitary communion with the Father. He stopped what He was doing and stepped away for a while. His example gives pause for reflection – if Jesus found this kind of quality time with the Father necessary, might not we?

The next part of this story feels familiar, as well. The other players in the story wake to find Jesus gone from the scene, and they go looking for Him. Eventually they find Him, and prompt Him to return. I don’t suppose we would blame them. We aren’t sure of their motives for going after Him – I suspect that they had already emotionally “bought in” to what Jesus had been doing at Peter’s house and at the synagogue – perhaps they thought this was going to be a “healing” ministry. They bought in to what they had seen, and now it was time to get back to the show. There were more people waiting in line to be healed, and the main actor in this little drama was “taking five.”

Do you remember the movie from about 10 years ago, Mr. Holland’s Opus? It’s the story of a burgeoning composer, played by Richard Dreyfuss, who has to take a job at the local school teaching music and band in order to make ends meet at home. Along comes a child, and the job and driver’s ed classes and family responsibilities start to take their toll on him. He tries to write, but time simply doesn’t allow for it. At one point in the movie, in frustration, he berates his wife because she has called him to task, and he lets her know that he’s tired of giving of his time to everyone except himself.

Simon points out that they had a pretty good show going on back at his house, and Jesus simply says, “Say boys – I think we’ll go on to the next town. I want to do a little preaching – you see, preaching is my main focus.” And with that, Mark tells us that “he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues – and casting out demons.”

Pastor, what does this message have to do with our season of Epiphany? I’ve been trying to make the case to us over the last several weeks that a part of the “epiphany” of this season is that we are called to be in the “gospel sharing” business. I don’t know that we particularly have a problem with that idea – but, at the same time, we have to make a living, and raise families, and do a few things for the church, and try to be good citizens of our community, and keep our yards looking nice and do a little upkeep on our homes. And we’re supposed to find time to eat right and exercise every day, and we’re supposed to keep up on current events, and read a book every once-in-a-while. We have parents to care for, and children to take to basketball and scouts, and we don’t remember the last time we took a little time “just for ourselves.”

“Jesus, just when are we supposed to do this gospel sharing business?”

Did you hear the last part of v. 39? “And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues – and casting out demons.” Jesus slipped away for a while, spent a little time with the Father, reminded Himself of His priorities, and then took off for the new cities, preaching message in hand.

Oh, and by the way, he continued to cast out a few demons.

Jesus refocused His ministry toward those things toward which He felt called. He went back out into the world to proclaim His message. That became again for Him His focus. Good for Him. But while He went about His renewed focus, He still had time for casting out demons. He still had time to meet the needs of others.

You know, each week when I share this sermon with you, you must know that I’ve been living with it for several days, if not weeks. I have to make application to my own life. Here’s the application I have discovered – when I am least effective in my work – this kingdom work – is when my priorities are out of kilter. For me – and this may not be true for you – I am out of sync much of the time. I am doing my calling and praying at the same time, thinking that prayer should be a by-product of everything that I do. Jesus changed that around a little – He prayed first, and then went about His work – and having made that little adjustment to His schedule, He found time to meet the needs of others as they arose. That’s the lesson that I’ve learned from this story.

Sister Tracy preaches this morning on the Isaiah text we heard a while ago, and about which the choir sang. She uses as an illustration particular observations of the eagle. She quotes researchers when she says, “`Though eagles possess the power to sustain flapping flight, they rarely do. One eagle we observed averaged less than two minutes per hour of flapping flight.’ The rest of the time the eagle soared and glided on the thermals – not fighting the air currents, but using them.”[3]

I like that illustration. You and I know a few people who do all the same stuff that we do in a day, and more – and all the time they make it look so very easy.

Jesus was one of them.

Richard W. Dunn, PhD.

[1] Who knows where this is really located – I did a Google search, and several sites quote her on this – none of which gives the original context.
[2] Adapted from Henry David Thoreau on his experience at Walden
[3] Tracy Dunn-Noland, sermon from 5 February 2006, http://thankyadarlin.blogspot.com/2006/02/waiting-on-lord.html