Mark 1:40-45
The story is simple. A leper comes begging. He is unnamed. Unclean. Untouchable. He is known, before and above all else, for being dirty. And diseased. He is begging. Desperate. Jesus, Jesus! “If you choose…” Do you dare? If you are willing. Might you be moved? And Jesus hears the need. And responds.
Frederick Buechner reminds us of call—where the world’s deep hunger and our deep gladness meet. The Greek word willing, is the same as delight. If it will make you glad, the leper asks, his hunger for healing, deep. If it will bring you delight. The leper is calling Christ. And Jesus, moved with compassion, so delights. Without hesitation. Without consulting religious authorities or doctrinal statements. Immediately. Jesus, this one of kingdom connection and beloved community, so desires.
Jesus reaches out his hand, we are told. When the rest of the world recoils, Jesus reaches out. Touches the untouchable. And we are called to follow. And because connection is made, healing happens. Boundaries are broken. This man, set apart, isolated, is restored to community. He comes alive. Proclaims the good news of this one who embodies Love.
After these past 60 hours or so together, the world’s deep needs have me feeling dazed and confused. Filled to overflowing. Statistics and stories swirl. Exhausted and cracked open, I wish I could stay. And I don’t know if I could absorb any more. Restoring our connection. Recommitting to justice. Remembering our calls. Here are a few snapshots tucked away for my further examination. Remember: Clayton Childers calling us into God’s rebirth. Anothen. Torn apart, top to bottom. Never to be the same. Remember: Neil Christie’s Simple Sentence Call. That which is impossible, and will not let us go. Remember: O’Donnell. His witness at the Vietnam War Memorial. His story. His struggle. His call for solidarity. Remember: Steve, formerly Big Daddy, crying out: If you so choose, God, let me die. Bury me in this hole I have dug. “God threw dirt on me,” he said. “But God being God, God didn’t bury me. God planted me.” Remember: Emanuel Cleaver, finding grounding in God by placing himself at he center of the chaos. A crisis is a terrible thing to waste, he said. Remember: John Hill connecting us with Jeremiah, standing at the crossroads, seeking rest for weary souls. Remember: the photographs from Palestine; remember those who are dislocated, without food and water, living in violence; Remember: the senseless violence and utter human disconnection in BumFights. Will we have the sense to blush? Remember: looking at each other across the room, facing our difference, then gathering at table, somehow, still. Remember: Standing in circles, face to face, sharing stories and faith. Remember: “If you so choose…”
God so chooses. So desires. So delights. For us all, every one. Deep gladness, restored.
To follow this call, we need each other. And we need God. And God needs us. Every one of us. And every one of our sisters and brothers.
To restore and resurrect. Until the hurt is so deep we share it. Until the fears are so sharp we name them, and lay them to rest. Until the shame shivers away, and we laugh our way, together, toward becoming whole. Until we are delivered from just going through the motions, and wasting everything we have: a chance, a choice, our creativity, God’s call. Thanks be to God.
Amen.
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