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Epiphany 5 – Year B

Preached on February 5, 2012

At St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Brookline

The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello

Isaiah 40:21—31; 1 Corinthians 9:16—23; Mark 1:29--39

Every week, during communion one or more of our Healing Ministers stand, ready and waiting for anyone who wishes to stay in place and receive prayers for healing, either for themselves, or on behalf of someone they love.

Perhaps you are a healing minister, and you know the power of standing in that moment with someone. You know the power of sharing prayer and anointing with oil.

Maybe you have been the recipient of the Healing ministry, as I have had the privilege of being. In which case you know the overwhelming sense of grace, the feeling of being broken open by the caring words and hands of a fellow parishioner.

Or maybe you’ve sat in your chair watching this all happen, wondering what was going on, what they were saying, and what they were applying from that little tub.

What is this Healing Ministry all about? And why bother doing it? Do we really think it works?

Today’s Gospel reading at first seems so simple, so quiet. In this story, the healing is not a huge event. It is not leprosy, it not someone raised from the dead. It is not even one of the great stories of demons being cast out and silenced, as they are elsewhere in Mark’s gospel. In today’s reading, the central healing story is simply a fever.

This story is simple. But what it lacks in splash, it more than makes up for in what it has to say to us about healing; how it works, what it’s for, and what it means to us as those who are called to live out this story today.

First, what healing is not. Healing is not a measure of our faith. The healing of Simon’s mother-in-law has nothing to do with her faith. All too often today, we hear healing linked with the measure of faith. If only that person prayed more, or believed more. Perhaps then they would have gotten healed, perhaps then they would have experienced God’s favor.

But Simon’s mother-in-law passes no test of faith. She is simply healed. Her healing does not, I repeat does not require an certain amount of faith from her. That is what healing is not. Healing is not a reward for enough faith.

Healing is about restoration.   Mark writes of Simon’s mother-in-law, “the fever left her and she began to serve them”. Providing hospitality to important guests would have fallen to her as the matriarch of the house and her inability to serve in that role would have brought her great shame. As hard as it might be for us to put ourselves in that cultural context, her being able to serve her guests would have restored her to the community, given her back her dignity, and lifted her to her rightful and honored role.

Healing is about restoring us to wholeness, in whatever shape that might take. That is why Jesus’ ministry to those with demons was so important. These individuals, probably suffering from some kind of emotional or spiritual pain, were cast out of society. The shame of the community cast them out. Jesus’ healing restored them, gave them back their dignity, and made them whole.

That is what healing is. That is why we say confession. It is about healing. It is about restoration and reconciliation. That is why we gather around this table. It is about healing.   It is about taking our honored place as guests equal before God, equal at this table.

So that is what healing is. Now a bit about who does the healing.

It is fascinating to me that Jesus leaves in the morning. Despite his soaring popularity, he chooses to leave before all the healing is done. He could have, quite easily, set up shop in Capernaum and healed morning till night in that place. But he doesn’t. He leaves.

But Capernaum is changed. It now knows the power of healing. It has seen the change in people’s lives as they step from the margins to the center. They’ve seen restoration, they’ve witnessed reconciliation, they’ve experienced for themselves what healing can do. And they can’t go back to before. They can’t pretend none of this happened and so they must now continue the work Jesus started. Now it’s up to them.

It is up to us. While doctors and nurses, and physical therapists have the ability to bring about physical healing, each of us is able to think about our role in bringing about each other’s wholeness. We are responsible for one another’s restoration, and reconciliation. We can, as Simon did, bring healing to those who need it, and we can be agents of healing ourselves. We are, all of us, healing ministers. At least we have the potential to be.

But I think the most profound message today’s Gospel has for us about, and what I think is the most profound part of our healing ministry here at St. Paul’s is less about the actual healing, less about what is happening up here, or even who is up here. The most powerful part of having a healing ministry here is what it says to each one of us about who we are, and why we gather in this place.

Having a healing ministry reminds us that we are expected to be a people in need of healing. Seeing our healing ministers each week, at the ready with prayer and oil and touch reminds us, every week, that our need for healing is expected. We plan on it. I am not expected to come to this place whole, complete and perfect. We are not expected to be finished products when we walk in the door, or even when we walk back out of it. We know that we could all use a little of what Simon’s mother-in-law received. It might be physical, it might be emotional, it might be spiritual, but chances are, if Jesus were standing in front of you today and asked you, “So, what can I do for you today?”, you would probably be able to come up with something.

So often in our lives, we are expected to be finished products before we even begin. We spend a lot of time, and energy, and money trying to smooth out the rough edges of our lives, trying to hide anything that might be perceived as making us less than perfect.

Here we are reminded that perfection isn’t a requirement for admission. In fact, the reason we come to this place, why we are called to this table is precisely because we long to be made more whole, we long for healing; in our lives, in our bodies, in our families; in the world.

A video getting a lot of play on Youtube right now reminds the church that we are not meant to be a “Museum for Good People”, but rather a “hospital for the broken.” All too often, churches fall into the former category. They try to be Museums for Good People; places where people gather to remind themselves that they are perfect, that they are examples to the rest of the world about what a Good Person even is. They arrive perfect, and they leave reinforced in that identity.

But we are not called to be a museum. Jesus left Capernaum before they could reach that status. He left them needing more. He didn’t stay until they were perfect. He left places still in need of healing; he left them places anyone could go, needing healing. And he leaves us there, too.

If we never become healing ministers on Sunday mornings, we are still called to be Healing ministers in the world.

If we never stand after communion and receive healing prayers on a Sunday morning, we are still invited to bring our pain, our hurt, our brokenness before God, asking God to heal us, to restore us, to reconcile us one to another, and to God.

I believe God has the power to heal us. But we must first admit to ourselves that we need it. And then be agents of healing in this place and in the world.

AMEN.

© 2012 The Reverend Jeffrey W. Mello