Proper 11B

July 21, 2024

Two images in today’s readings jump out at me. The first is from the gospel reading. Jesus bids his disciples, “Come away to a deserted place and rest awhile.” The second is from the epistle reading. Referring to Jesus, the text reads, “For he is our peace… he came to preach peace to those who were far off and those who were near.”

Words of comfort and consolation, comfortable words to use the traditional language of our liturgy. Words that we need to hear, and to embrace, and to share.

First, from the epistle, the letter to the Ephesians. Here, the author—it may or may not be St. Paul, scholars debate these sorts of things, is talking about one of the central problems of the nascent Christian community: the relationship between Jews and Gentiles, and the role of the Mosaic law in constructing and maintaining that community. In fact, one of the reasons Paul’s authorship of Ephesians is questioned is because of what is said here about the law—that Christ abolished the law. It’s a contradiction of Jesus’ own words from the Sermon on the Mount: “I have not come to abolish the law but to fulfill it.” It’s also a direct contradiction of what Paul says elsewhere, especially in the letter to the Romans, where he goes on at great length, somewhat confusingly, about the continued validity of the Mosaic law for the Jewish community.

Be that as it may, the language here of Christ being our peace, of Christ proclaiming peace to those who are near and those who are far off, resonates as deeply in the twenty-first century as it did in the first. We are accustomed, in our current environment, to Christianity being used by some of its most strident and vocal adherents as a weapon that divides families, communities, and nations. But Christ is our peace, breaking down the walls that divide us.

Christ is our peace. In another sense, on a personal individual level, Christ is our peace, a well of tranquility and comfort in turbulent times, and in turbulent lives. To open ourselves to that peace, to wait in silence, to pray, to feel Christ’s presence in our lives, our hearts, our world, is something we should cultivate and welcome.

To touch the divine, to experience Christ, is one reason we come to worship. Many of us also come because we seek spiritual sustenance and refreshment. In today’s Gospel, the twelve have returned from their missionary journey. Not surprisingly, they are exhausted from their travels and from their work. Jesus gathers them together and offers them an invitation, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.”

We know the feeling. Although it’s summer and life is supposed to be somewhat less hectic, more relaxing, many of us struggle with the stress of work or family issues. Some of us have been spending a lot of time, on other activities related to the church. Our lives are busy, even in the summer when things are supposed to slow down. We need a rest. Even now, some of us may be distracted by all of the things we have to do, the many tasks that make up our lives, the problems that we’ll have to deal with at work tomorrow. Jesus’ offer, “Come away and rest awhile” appeals to us. We might love to get away from it all, if only for a few days.

But even as Jesus invited the twelve to go away to a deserted place and rest awhile, the burdens of the world came with them. When they arrived at their destination, they discovered that the needy, desperate crowd had preceded them and were waiting for them. Can you imagine how the disciples might have felt right then? Exhausted themselves, physically and emotionally drained, they were looking forward to that escape from it all, and instead, they were confronted by the world’s misery in all of its magnitude.

Whatever the disciples might have thought when they saw the crowds, we know what Jesus thought. He had compassion on them—it’s an earthy word, suggesting he felt it in his guts. But when he saw them, it wasn’t their physical needs he noticed, it was their spiritual needs. They were like sheep without a shepherd, lacking protection, guidance, purpose. They came to Jesus, looking for all of that, and more, in search of healing and hope. Jesus and his disciples, having sought respite, were back in the middle of it. 

Where do you see yourself in this story? Are you among the disciples and Jesus, exhausted by it all, hoping to come away and rest awhile? Or are you among the crowds, coming to Jesus to hear his words of life, to receive his healing touch? Or perhaps, is it a little bit of both?

We carry all of our worries and needs with us to this place each Sunday. We come with hopes and concerns. Sometimes what we need is at the forefront of our minds; quite concrete—like an illness, or conflict in our family or at our place of work. Sometimes, we can’t even express what it is we need, there’s a gaping hole in our hearts or in our lives that we can’t name.

But even then, we come, and we might encounter the world’s needs in all of their magnitude, in the suffering of a friend, or of a homeless person on the street who asks us for help. We come in search of something, or someone, and when we arrive in this place, we meet people who are seeking as well. Sometimes, they come in search of us.

On Wednesdays at noon, a small group of us gather for worship. There’s a core of three or four who come almost every week, and several others who join us from time to time. Over the years, I’ve become aware of all of the others who come here at the same time, the people who are waiting for the food pantry to open and the folks who gather at noon every weekday for AA. There’s the Off the Square Club, with its ministry to unhoused people with mental illness. 12 noon on Wednesday is a snapshot of our church, of people gathering for worship, people coming in search of food, companionship, and support for their recovery. And while we are praying and celebrating the Eucharist being nourished by the body and blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ, across the courtyard, volunteers are preparing for the pantry shift, getting ready to provide nourishment for the guests who come to the pantry for food.

There are many needs in the world, many needs in our community. Grace Church, our facilities and congregation offer compassion and help to those in need. We do it in many ways. At the core of it all is our faith in God and our worship. In the midst of the noise, in the midst of all that is happening in the world and in our lives, let us not lose sight of the God who has called us to this place, of the Jesus whom we follow. Just as we are refreshed and renewed by word and sacrament, just as we are refreshed and renewed by our encounter and experience of Jesus’ compassionate mercy, may we also always share that compassionate mercy with those we encounter, here and in our daily lives.