Sermon at All Saints Lutheran Church
5 February 2012, Fifth Sunday after Epiphany
Isaiah 40:21–31; 1 Corinthians 9:16–23; Mark 1:29–39
Pastor Clark Olson-Smith
Who are we when we can’t work?
I’d just turned five when there was a grease fire in our house. The house itself was okay. But my parents both came out of it with burns. My mom was burnt on her hand: small but fairly bad. My dad’s burns were worse: severe, covering a majority of his right leg. There were skin grafts and a burn sock. A week in the hospital and several weeks laid up in bed at home. Since I was little, I don’t remember much. But I do remember the bed pan, my dad crying out in pain, and a cloud of frustration hanging over his room. He couldn’t work, and for a while he couldn’t even walk. And in my memory, those dark weeks that followed were worse than the day of the fire. But in time, his burns healed, my dad went back to work, the cloud lifted.
That was Jesus. Because when we can’t work, Jesus lifts us up.
Simon’s mother-in-law couldn’t work. Mark doesn’t say much about her fever. But certainly it was more than a cold, or even a few days of the flu. It was a fever that could cause death. And even while she lived, it meant a kind of social death. This fever took her away from the bustle of the household—of which she surely once was the center. Who was she apart from her place in the world? If she could not be a valuable member of her family and community? Who are we?
How heartbreaking it is to hear someone we love say, “I don’t want to be a burden.” Sometimes people say such things to be polite, when we’ve invited them to visit. But there are other times. After age or accident has debilitated them. After a job-loss or a divorce or the death of a spouse. During a bout of depression or illness. “I don’t want to be a burden.” Is it not our highest honor to be able to serve them? And more, doesn’t it name too sharply this tragedy of their active, able, productive life interrupted and maybe ended?
Did Simon’s mother-in-law say, “I don’t want to be a burden”? Did Simon himself feel overwhelmed by the loss those words name? Not that he was inconvenienced now that she didn’t cook dinner and clean the house anymore. But that he was grieving the loss of the vibrancy and vigor that defined who she was. As if the heartbeat of the family stopped when that fever took hold of her. Who was she without that spark? Who were they without her?
But Jesus lifted them all up, restored her spark, and she freely and gratefully served Jesus, her family, and a whole town-full of guests.
My uncle died a few weeks ago. He was my dad’s oldest brother. He had the biggest bushiest eyebrows I’ve ever known, and he also had one of the sharpest minds. He loved history and genealogy. In his retirement, among other things, he invested himself helping a Civil War scholar do research. So his name is printed in the footnotes of a massive book. After my grandpa died and grandma’s mind started slipping, it was only natural that he took on all the responsibilities of power of attorney. After all, that was who he was. It was his place in the world, in the family, and with his mind, he both came alive and served others.
The worst part was that my uncle’s mind went before his body. Near the end, there were days he didn’t know who my dad was. And of course, there were small devastations along the way. Like a year ago, when out with my dad doing some local historical surveying, this brilliant man couldn’t buckle his own seatbelt.
Who are we when we have no strength to share with the people around us? We are God’s beloved children, and Jesus has come to lift us up, renew our strength, and give us the gift of being able to serve. Jesus lifted my uncle. Even though he died, the message remains the same. The One God lifted from the dead lifts us from the dead. And held secure in the very strength of God, even the ones whose work has ended have been raised again to serve.
“Do you not know? Have you not heard?” insists Isaiah. On the one hand, the questions interrupt any illusions we may harbor about unfading strength—our own or the ones we depend on. On the other hand, they offer hope in strength greater than human strength. “The LORD is the everlasting God… God will not grow tired or weary… God gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” That is Simon’s mother-in-law, and my dad, and my uncle. That’s you, and all of us. No matter which side of the bedside we’re on, the strength we need is not human strength.
Thanks be to God, Jesus came to renew us in God’s own strength, and Jesus does not weary in doing it. In the morning, Jesus renewed strength, teaching in the synagogue and casting out a nasty demon. In the afternoon, Jesus renewed Simon’s mother-in-law’s strength, lifting her out of her fever. In the evening, Jesus renewed the whole town’s strength, curing illnesses and casting out more demons. And before the sun came up, Jesus was up and on his way to renew the strength of the next town and the next and the one after that.
Whose house does Jesus go to next? Which church? Who does Jesus take by the hand and raise next? Is it your house? Is it you? Is it All Saints? If not yet, it will soon be. Because Jesus never wearies of giving strength to the weary, and “those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength.” Look to the cross. There, alone, Jesus gave every breath and spark and heartbeat of his life for us. And not even death or evil could stop Jesus from this message and ministry of giving God’s strength.
So Simon’s mother-in-law is a sign of hope…and an invitation. She became the Christ in that home and town. Mark could not be more explicit, using two special action words that only ever apply to Jesus. She was raised like Jesus and she served like Jesus. She became Christ in that place, truly followed Jesus without leaving her hometown. And can’t you just see her, years from now, finally on her deathbed, but still serving, still sharing her strength, she herself sustaining the very ones serving her.
Do you believe, Jesus’ disciples never served? Not like Jesus. Not before the resurrection. Instead, they spent their strength—among other things—arguing over who’s the strongest and most valuable. Simon’s mother-in-law was the first to “get it,” and she sheds light on a greater tragedy than infirmity and weakness and disability: We might chase after Jesus, but if we do not serve like Jesus, we aren’t really following.
Jesus shares God’s strength with us anyway. And Jesus shares it here, in a meal, in a bath, in a word, in us gathered. Jesus is given for you.
Thanks be to God.