Thoughts on fevers and healing, after a visit to Hebron (4 February 2018)
Sermon for Sunday, 4 February 2018
5th Sunday after Epiphany
The Rev. Carrie Ballenger Smith
Grace and peace to you from God our
Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
There’s
nothing like a visit to Hebron the day before you’re supposed to preach on
“healing” to really mess up a gal’s sermon.
To be fair,
I was having a bit of a struggle with focus this week anyway, and had been
praying hard for the Holy Spirit to be generous and reveal something new about
these texts sometime before this morning. Ideally, something inspiring.
Something encouraging! Something relevant to our context.
And then I
went to Hebron.
In my mind
were these words from this morning’s Gospel according to Mark:
“As soon as Jesus and
the disciples left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew,
with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and
they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted
her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.
That evening, at
sunset, they brought to Jesus all who were sick or possessed with demons. And
the whole city was gathered around the door.” (Mark 1:29-33)
Our guide
Afnan tells us: “In 1997 the Hebron protocol divided the city into two parts:
H1 and H2. H1, under Palestinian rule, is 80% of the city. H2, under Israeli
rule, is only 20%--but it included all of the Old City and the main areas of
commerce. There are at least 3 police for every 1 settler there now.”
“And Jesus cured many
who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not
permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.” (Mark 1:34)
“I will have
to meet you on the other side of Shuhada street” says Afnan. “I’m not permitted
to walk there, because I am a Palestinian.”
“The Lord heals the
brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. The Lord counts the number of the
stars and calls them all by their names.” (Psalm 147)
“The
Palestinian residents of Shuhada street must present their IDs to the guards”
says Afnan. “But they do not look at their names, only their numbers. Each
resident is known only by a number.”
“Those who wait for the
Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31)
“The first
time we were under 24-hour curfew, we thought it would be over soon,” says Abu
Abed, as he serves us coffee with cardamom inside his tiny shop. “But when it
happens the second time, and the third time, and on and on for years—what can
we do? Many choose to leave, to find homes in a safer place. They want a better
life for their children. But I am still here.”
Dear friends
in Christ, what shall I say about healing today? How can we comprehend the
promise of Christ’s healing power when we live and work in a place that has
been so sick, for so long? How do we
think about the miraculous healings Jesus performed in this land so long ago,
when no such miracle seems to be happening in this same land today?
As I walked
through Hebron yesterday, with this unwritten sermon on my mind, my thoughts
kept going to Peter’s mother-in-law, lying on her sickbed in Capernaum. In
Mark’s Gospel, it simply says she had fever. And when we read those words today,
we may think, “Well, a fever is not too bad! This is not like those stories
where Jesus heals those possessed by demons, or men who have been born blind,
or women who have been bleeding for twelve years. This is a fever. Jesus only needed to give her a
cup of tea and tell her to take a good nap!”
But of
course, the reality is that a fever in Jesus’ time was often a “sickness unto
death.” It was indeed life-threatening, and not only that, it was often assumed
to be caused by something demonic. For this reason, it was also shameful! Peter’s
mother-in-law not only had a fever—she was in mortal danger, and so was her
family. She was confined to her room, cut off from society, suffering alone,
with little hope of a cure.
Making my
way through the streets of Hebron, passing under the metal netting which keeps the
settlers’ garbage (but not their dirty water or urine) from hitting the heads
of those walking below, I thought:
“This land is like Peter’s mother-in-law.
Here is she is, suffering with the life-threatening disease called Occupation,
and so many of us write it off as a simple fever.
Those who
haven’t seen (and even those of us who have!) really don’t understand the
illness—so we don’t understand the urgent need for healing.
“There are two sides to every story,” we often
say.
“It’s too
bad that the Jews returning to the land has inconvenienced
the people who were already here,” I have sometimes heard.
Or, all too
often:
“These folks
have been fighting for thousands of years, and nothing will change until Jesus
comes back!”
Nothing will
change until Jesus shows up.
Nothing will change until Jesus shows
up.
This is both
the most aggravating thing—and the most truthful thing—that my fellow
Christians say about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
Nothing will
change until Jesus shows up.
On the one
hand, I reject this way of thinking entirely.
I don’t
think it’s in any way right for a Christian to look at the Middle East (or any
other part of the world) and say, “Well, this is all really messed up, but Jesus
is coming soon, and he’ll fix it. These people
are really suffering, but Jesus will show up soon and heal them.”
Friends, Jesus
did not suffer and on the cross so that we could throw up our hands and say,
“Well, I guess he’s covered that! Nothing else for us to do.”
We have been
saved. We have been healed. By his death and resurrection we have been granted the
tremendous free gift of grace and forgiveness and salvation—and now what?
To
paraphrase our brother Martin Luther: “We don’t have to do anything. And we are entrusted
to do everything.”
We have been
healed…and now we are freed to be a healing presence for others.
The Gospel
according to Mark tells us when the mother of Peter’s wife was healed of her
fever, when it left her for good, she immediately got up and began to serve the
disciples.
Now there is
a completely different sermon I could preach on how we interpret the typical
gender roles in this verse, and what Jesus might say about it today! But the
thing I want to emphasize this morning is the fact that this woman who was
suffering, who was confined to her room, and who was unable to fulfill her role
in the community…was brought to healing and wholeness through the presence of
Christ.
And the
first thing she did was join his movement—not as an apostle, not as a preacher or prophet, but as a deacon, serving
Jesus and the disciples in the way she knew how, thereby becoming part of his
healing ministry in the world.
Peter’s
mother in law was healed…and she became a healer.
For this
reason, when someone says, “Nothing will change in Hebron, in Israel and Palestine,
or in the world, until Jesus shows up”, I want to say: That’s exactly right.
As St.
Teresa of Avila famously wrote:
“Christ has no body now
but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through
which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks
to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours
are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body.”
Christ has no body on earth but yours...therefore, sometimes healing looks like Jesus entering a sickroom in Capernaum,
taking hold of a feverish woman’s hand, and lifting her up so that she can
serve the disciples dinner.
But sometimes, healing looks like 13 people (some Christian, some not) entering a
tiny shop in Hebron, drinking coffee with cardamom, and hearing one man’s
story.
“Life is
very difficult here,” said Abu Abed, as he showed us photos of what life in
Hebron was like before the closing of his street. “Life is very difficult, but
when you come to us, it is like we can breathe again. When you come to us, we
breathe fresh air through your lungs.”
Hear that
again: “When you come to us, it is like we can breathe again.”
We had no
special credentials.
We brought
no medicine,
And we
possessed no magic.
But by the
grace of God, drinking coffee in a tiny shop in occupied territory, there was a small measure of healing for Abu Abed that day.
Not
wholeness, as yet—but comfort.
Companionship.
Solidarity.
And hope that change is coming soon.
Wholeness will come when Abu Abed, and his family,
and Hebron, and indeed all of Palestine and Israel are freed from the deadly fever
called Occupation.
Wholeness comes when all people have not only heard the Good
News, but are able to enjoy the love, the liberation, and the healing of God’s
Kingdom—on earth, as it is in heaven.
Dear
friends, how shall we talk about healing when we live in a world that has been
so sick, for so long?
This is what
I can say:
If Jesus has
come to you and touched your hand,
If your
fever has been relieved and you can once again breathe deeply,
If you know
that you are loved by God,
If you know that you are called by name, not by number,
If you know
that oppression and occupation are not God’s will for humanity,
If you have
tasted and seen that the Lord is good,
Then you
have the privilege,
You have the
power,
You have the
freedom,
You have the
gift,
Of bringing fresh
air,
And
forgiveness,
And human
rights,
And justice,
And
liberation,
And above
all the Good News of God’s love,
To all those
who so desperately need it.
You have
been healed!
You, too, are a healer.
May the
peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in
Christ Jesus. Amen.
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