My sermon this morning is basically a brief report from the Association of Presbyterian Christian Educators event this week that I attended with Ann Baumgardner and Janice Adams, among over a thousand others. I want to share with you something that Eric Law called the ‘gospel cycle.’

            Eric Law, by the way, is the Episcopal priest who gave the keynote addresses at the conference.

            He was talking primarily about cultural differences and how to begin having dialogue between people of different cultures. He is, by the way, a Chinese American openly gay man. He knows a little something about the clash of cultures and oppression and liberation and power and privilege and the lack thereof and how those can block effective communication between people from different cultures.

            He used a simple diagram to help us think about the gospel cycle of death and resurrection. He did it with an overhead projector. But I think you can get the idea without that. You’re bright people. You can imagine a circle, am I right? If you want, you can draw one on your bulletin. At the top of the circle, imagine a resurrected empowered individual. At the bottom, imagine death. We don’t like the death part, but you don’t get resurrection without it. And some of us have trouble with the resurrection part, but you don’t get Christianity without it.

             The gospel is liberating, freeing, (about resurrection) and it is also costly and total in its demands on our lives (about dying.) It is both about serving, and about being redeemed. On one hand, we have heard those liberating texts (and will again) Things like: ‘take up you pallet and walk,’ ‘your sins are forgiven’, ‘you are healed’, and ‘your faith has healed you. Go.’ That is the role of the church. Liberation. Some choose the word salvation. And that works, too, as long as we remember this: we are saved not so much from something as for something. We are liberated for service. We are set free from oppression so that we may be ‘slaves to Christ.’ We are given our lives so that we may give our lives away to others. You know those texts, too: “go and sell everything you have and give it to the poor and come and follow me,” “It is harder for a rich person to enter the kin-dom of heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.” “Climb down out of that tree, Zaccheus! “

            From the dying, comes a new life, a new focus, a new way of being on the planet. Then, we are enabled to give our lives away again.

            Do you see the cyclical nature in this? Do you see how it is a dynamic revolving energetic movement that takes us forward . . . toward the kin-dom?

            When we look at our gospel text this morning, we can see in a few short sentences, the whole of this cycle. Jesus comes in and takes the hand of Simon’s mother-in-law, and the fever leaves her and she gets up to serve. (Now, just an aside here. Did you notice that we are talking about Simon, later Simon Peter? You know, the Rock on which the church was built, the first Pope, if you will. Did you notice that he was a married guy – that’s how he had a mother-in-law? One gets a mother-in-law by getting married.  (Just a fun little tidbit.) And did you notice that this is the first time in the first gospel ever written that a woman is mentioned? And did you notice that Jesus broke the purity laws by taking this woman’s hand? By touching her?  Let me also point out that the word used for serve here is the same Greek word from which we have the word, deacon. The office of deacon, or those who ministered, was the first ordained office in the church. This is also the first time it is used in any gospel, and Mark is telling us that this woman was ministering to others. (The first woman mentioned in the first gospel, and she was ordained!)

            But what I really want you to see here is the gospel cycle. She was lifted up, resurrected, and then she gave her life away in service to others.

            It isn’t a one-time event. It is an ongoing series of events. This circle turns and turns and we enter it either through resurrection from oppression, or we enter it through dying to ourselves. It will depend on how much power and privilege we have. And, I want you to notice that we must choose to give our lives away. We can’t do that unless we are liberated. Unless we have lives to offer.

            Those texts are familiar to us, as well: take up your cross and follow me.” “No greater love has anyone than this: to lay down one’s life for a friend.” “Dying to self.” Giving one’s life, one’s power, one’s privilege away for the sake of others. Please note that this only counts if the giving away is a choice. If we freely give our power, our privilege, our selves in service. It is not the same thing when it is taken from us.

            Dying to self. And then, having emptied our old selves, we find we are resurrected, empowered in a new and different way. Able once again to give our power away for the sake of the gospel.

            Eric’s point was that we don’t all enter into this cycle at the same place. Jesus knew that as well. That was why he lifted some up at the resurrection point, and invited others to enter at the dying place.  “Sell everything you have and give it to the poor, and come and follow me.” How and where we are in our lives will determine how and where we enter the gospel cycle. If we are powerful and privileged, we enter at the dying place. If we are oppressed we enter at the resurrection place. This is a little bit of what Paul was getting at when he talked about being all things to all people. Remember, this is a dynamic thing; it keeps on moving – and moving forward toward the kin-dom. It is a process of transformation: both personal and corporate.

            I was in some conversations at the conference where people of power were struggling with these concepts. Not resistant. But we wanted to know how to give up power? How does that work? What does that look like? We weren’t really ready to give up everything we have and give it to the poor. One woman pointed out that she couldn’t divest herself of her education, for instance, which gave her privilege. Or her family and friends, who serve as a safety net and resource which many people don’t have. So how do those of us with privilege and power enter into the gospel cycle?

            First, we must be aware of who and what we are and what kind of power and privilege we might have. That may differ from situation to situation, by the way. Because, unless we know where we are in the cycle, we may not know how to begin. And, just so you know, it isn’t always an all or nothing thing. I am, for instance, a woman. In some circles, I have less privelege, less power.  But I am a white woman. So, In some circles, I have power, others I do not. I am a preacher. In some circles, again, that has some power. In most, it does not. Do you see the complexity of this, and the need for awareness of our own sense of power and privelege?

            Just being keenly aware of the cycle and the differences and the dynamics of this is crucial to entering the gospel cycle.  Then the second thing we can do is to learn how to listen to the resurrection stories of those who have been oppressed. And learn how to listen to the stories of oppression. Actually, we can learn how to listen, period. We can let them others tell us what they find liberating. What they find painful. We can be open to learn from the experience of others. We can learn from the perspective of others. We can be aware of our own assumptions, and learn how to get those out of our way as we try to hear others.

            Let me tell you the story of a person of power and privelege and his own transformation, in a very simple thing he did.  He had a long conversation with a homeless man, in which he did a lot of listening. This happened because he invited the man to tell him his story. And he really listened. Without judgment. Without interrupting. Without offering solutions or seeing the man and his life as a problem to be solved.  Until that conversation, he had a lot of assumptions about homeless people, and a lot of prejudices. I’m not going to tell you the tale that he heard. I am going to invite you to initiate your own conversations. I’m going to invite you to explore your own assumptions and set them aside so you can hear the stories of others.

             But this story is about my friend, and what he did shortly after he really listened to this homeless person. We were at a soup kitchen.  And, you guessed right, we were there to serve. We were primarily upper middle class, primarily white folks. And the people being served were not. (It is pretty easy to figure out the power differential in that situation.)

            And while we were supposed to be the ones serving,  our attitudes could have been simply patronizing. There is power and privelege in having something to give to those who have nothing.  But on that day, because of that initial conversation, the demeanor of the first of the servers: my friend altered everything. You need to know that he was a tall, well-dressed, attractive, forty-something straight white engineer with good teeth, and a great smile and he smelled good.  I tell you that to let you know he was among the most privileged in the room that day. I tell you that because it matters in this story. I’m not saying it is right that he was the most privileged. I am saying it is the way things are, and we can’t pretend otherwise.

            At any rate, as the first person took a tray, this engineer leaned forward and said, in the way counter help in any cafeteria might have said, “Sir, how would you like your salad?’

            Sir. He called them all ‘sir’. He spoke to them with deference as if he was dependent on their tips to pay his rent. It was, granted, a simple thing. A small thing. But it made a difference that day. He had given up his power in a gentle loving way. He lifted them up simply by stepping down. He truly became their servant. The real giving happened, of course, in the conversation. In the listening, in his invitation to another human being to tell his story and then listening, really listening, to that story.

             He knew where he was in the gospel cycle and he knew that he was in the ‘giving up one’s life’ place. Later, he told me how transforming that had been for him. It had taken such obvious discrepancy for him to be aware of much more subtle differences. He was learning how to give up his privilege and power to lift others up and how to lay down his life for others. Different circumstances call for different measures.  

            I think that may be some of what Paul is trying to get at in our epistle lesson this morning. That being all things to all people. It seems too much unless he is talking about feeling empathy for and being willing to give up power and privilege when needed, and use power and privilege to lift others up at other times. And when we are in the place of oppression, to be open to being lifted up by others.  There’s more to our gospel, and I don’t want us to ignore it. More of the cycle. For Jesus, having risked impurity by touching a woman lifts her up. And she serves. And I am willing to bet. She serves and serves and serves herself into the ground.

             I say that because of what happens in this story with Jesus.

             Imagine the weight of the demands on his time, his energy, and his life. He had to feel pressured, overloaded, overscheduled, overworked? There was so much need. 

            Jesus was new to the ministry. Remember, this is just the thirty-ninth verse of the first chapter of Mark. And already, we are told, “the whole city was gathered” “he cured many” and “he cast out many demons”

            The whole city was gathered . . . even though we know this is an exaggeration. . Can’t you just imagine the throngs of desperate people who have heard of his abilities to heal pressing in with arms outstretched, hands open, or clutching, grasping, begging? Can’t you imagine the clamor and the noise and the need? Can’t you picture the pleading in voices and eyes pulling at the heartstrings of the Human One?

            I can. I can imagine how overwhelming it must have felt for Jesus. I think we also know how it feels to see brokenness and pain and longing and desperation everywhere we look. I think we know how it feels to not even know where or how to start. Jesus, we are told, healed a few and then the numbers of those who needed healing multiplied. It must have been totally overwhelming, even for the Human One. Exhausting.

            We are told that the next morning, while it was still dark, he rose and went to a lonely place to pray. That is what a practicing Jew would do, by the way. Jesus spent quite a lot of time in prayer. It is, in our day and time, a very counter-cultural thing to do. It seems like wasting time. It seems like doing nothing when we could be doing something. Anything.  But Jesus prayed. Regularly and often. I think it is where he recharged his batteries. I think it is the way he stayed in touch with God’s will for his life. I think it is how he remembered who he was and what he was about in all the chaos and turmoil all around him. I think it was in prayer that he was given the strength that he needed for the work he had to do. I think it was where he was resurrected several times a day to do the work he was called to do. He was given new life in prayer, and strength to carry on.  The kind of strength that is spoken of in our Isaiah text: where we are promised to be able to “mount up with wings as eagles, to run and not get weary, to walk and not to faint.” If we wait upon the Holy One. Jesus waited on God in prayer.  This is a part of the cycle, as well. It is resurrecting. We can’t keep dying if we don’t take the time for resurrection. Jesus knew that. Jesus spent a lot of time in prayer.

            In our text, Jesus’ prayers were interrupted as Simon and his companions found him said, “Everyone is looking for you.”

            Jesus continues on in his ministry, Jesus goes to yet another town to proclaim the gospel. He goes back to work. Back to the grind.

            When we look at the Isaiah text closely, we may be surprised by the way the words are arranged. With wings one would hope we could soar. But that is not the case. We are given wings, so we may run, and finally walk. We are lifted up with hope so we may deal with the very down to earth matters that need to be dealt with.

            We come to the table this morning to receive our wings for walking. We are fed at this feast of the resurrection so we may go out to lay down our lives to give life to others.

            Again, the cycle. Always the cycle that moves us forward, that moves creation forward to the day when all will be free to give up their lives.

            Giving up and being lifted up that we may lay our lives down for others . . . . . and each time, we learn with wings how to run and not be weary, how to walk and not faint. Come; let us share the feast of new life, the feast of a world made new! Let us receive our wings for walking in the way of the Beloved.