The Man in the Boat

July 12, 2020 The 6th Sunday after Pentecost

The Church of the Redeemer, Chestnut Hill

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Isaiah 55:10-13

Psalm 65: (1-8), 9-14

Matthew 13:1-9,18-23

In his latest book, “The Seeds of Compassion” and a recent article in the Boston Globe by the 14th Dalai Lama and Daniel Levitin, entitled “Suffering, Compassion, and Being a Perpetual Student,” they wrote, ‘Buddhist teachers remind us that each of us is a student and everyone else in the world is our teacher.’” (The Dalai Lama and Daniel J. Levitin, Globe, July 6, 2020)  I wonder, are we shut up in our own little worlds, locked away in our own little rooms, listening only to the perspectives of those with whom we agree, and seeing only the realities of our own little lives?

I guess one of the benefits of this pandemic has been that it has forced all of us, both willingly and unwillingly, to learn new things. We have become perpetual students of COVID 19 and are compelled to see our lives from different perspectives. Our virtual worship services enable us to see people at home, in empty churches, or not all. Just recently I learned how to videotape my sermons in two very different locations midweek rather than standing in the pulpit in Chestnut Hill on a Sunday morning. Times have changed!

Up until this point in today’s gospel, Jesus had been teaching people in the synagogues, where he challenged his religious leaders about their hypocrisy and lack of compassion. Although the common people were still eager to listen to him, Jesus had become increasingly unwelcome in the synagogues. So today, we first hear that he “went out of the house where he had been teaching and sat down by the sea.”

The gospel story tells us that after his family members appeared at his door, Jesus left his house, and went to the sea, where he continued to teach. There, the crowd of students was so great that he had to get into a boat and teach them from a distance. Wherever Jesus appears, whether it is in a room or by Zoom, in the cities or suburbs, on land or at sea, Jesus is there teaching. Will we look for Him wherever we are? Will we listen to Him as perpetual students of the gospel?

Today Jesus teaches us something about perspective. Socially distancing himself from his family and the crowds, he pushes out from the shore in a little boat. When we are too close to a problem, we may not see the solution. When we are enmeshed in our material world, we may not see God at work. Jesus frequently teaches his followers that the kingdom of God has drawn near; and then He invites us to make space for God’s grace at a slower pace. Today, in his boat, Jesus invites us to look and to listen and to learn from Him.

Jesus withdraws from other people so that he can listen to God. He does not isolate himself out of fear; rather he wants to understand with his heart what his eyes are seeing, and what his ears are hearing. He wants to teach others what he has learned. “Look at that man over there,” Jesus said to the crowds on the shore. “That Sower is God, and those seeds are God’s words being planted into your hearts.”

“Yes, there are many reasons why some of your seeds will not grow; for there is evil all around us, even in the air. Some people have shallow roots,” Jesus said, “and they lack perseverance. I also know that many people are tempted by worldly things, and struggle with new ideas; and yet I invite you to look, and to listen, and to learn from me; for my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

I served as a chaplain in a hospital for one year before I was ordained. I was a student of pastoral care among people of different faiths, traditions, colors, and family compositions. I discovered that we were not all friends of Jesus. In fact, one person’s faith community used jellybeans and Pepsi for communion on Easter morning! At that time, and in some ways even today, I am afraid of hospitals, physical illnesses, and ultimately of death. Although I have served the homeless and those in prison, as well as people in my own church and local community, the hospital environment was a new landscape for me. I saw life and death from many new perspectives.

I was assigned to the newborn intensive care unit, where I met babies who could not tell me what was wrong with them. They were hooked up to machines and tubes and lived in little glass houses that protected them from invisible germs. I had to wash my hands and put on a mask before I even entered the room. Never did I imagine that someday in the future I would do these very same things for my own twin grandsons. Never did I imagine that such protocols would be a way of life for all of us now. Never did I realize how fragile human life is, and how important my faith has become.

 In the hospital, I tried to offer some comfort and hope to the parents of these newborn babies even though I had no idea, at that time, what they were going through. I also tried to stay out of the way of the nurses and doctors, whose purpose was clear, and whose knowledge and skills were life-giving. One night, I baptized a newborn baby boy, only hours old, who would not survive. I looked at this little new life, and I prayed that the Man in the Boat was listening. I heard the words of our closing hymn #296 and the promises of resurrected life ringing in my ears.

A man named “Who” gave me another perspective. He had been run over by a car in the city streets and lay paralyzed from his neck down. Some people claimed that he was a carjacker who got what he deserved. Violence in our cities is as old as time. I found him in the ICU, lying in bed with metal prongs sticking out of his head, and tubes inflating his lungs so that he could breathe. He was a young man, single, and in the prime of his life. It was hard for me to look at him; I had to think about what I would want if I were him. I had to think about how different my own life was from his.

When I arrived at his bed, I wasn’t even sure if he wanted me to visit. Explaining that I was a chaplain, I asked him, “Blink once if you want me to stay. Twice if you don’t.” One blink later, I was reading him scripture stories about Jesus, anointing his forehead with oil, laying my hands upon him, and praying for his healing. I hoped that the Man in the Boat was listening. I hoped that my words about Jesus would help him.

I did not like going to the orthopedic floor where people were often much older than me and recovering from surgery. I was relatively young and active at the time and I had never endured a broken bone or physical injury. I did not fully understand then or even now the challenges of rehab. “Look at my wounds,” they would say to me with pride, and I would say “No thanks, I only came here to listen and pray.” Soon enough, I found myself becoming impatient with their complaints, and I no longer wanted to listen. I was busy and I could not relate to their loneliness and feelings of isolation, as I do now. I had no idea, no perspective on what it was like to be stuck in bed all day long, for weeks on end, and in a great deal of pain. They felt useless; and so, did I.

“Look,” Jesus said to the crowd on the shore. “Look at what’s happening right over there. The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seeds on the ground, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.” (Mt 4:26-29) “Listen,” Jesus said. “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed seeds in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds.” (Mt.13: 24-30)  “Listen,” Jesus said, “The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed; it is the smallest of seeds, but when it has grown it becomes the greatest of shrubs, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its branches.” (Mt. 13:31-32)

The Man in the Boat is teaching us today. “Look at that,” He says, pointing to some person, another event, or the most recent problem. See how God’s grace has appeared even among the weeds. See how those seeds of compassion have blossomed and grown, we do not know how. And look how that one little mustard seed has turned into a great movement of love. God’s seeds have been planted in our hearts and we are the gardeners.”

 “Listen,” Jesus says to the crowds. “Listen to the still small voice of God within you, and to the silent witnesses of protesters all around you, for they will teach you. Listen to the Sower who speaks through our prophets, the children in our marketplaces, people of all ages, colors, conditions, and traditions; for they are all our teachers. They too are cultivating and planting seeds.”

The Man in the Boat is inviting us today to zoom in and zoom out for a little while, to get a little distance, and perhaps gain a new perspective. “Look here,” Jesus says to us on the shore, “Look at me, and you will see the Sower. Listen to me,” He claims, “and you will hear the Word of God. The kingdom of heaven has drawn near to you. “The word is in your mouth and in your heart for you to observe.” (Deut. 30:14) Will you open your eyes to see God at work and your ears to listen to God’s voice in your life? Will you turn and be healed?”

“I am the Word of God made flesh and I have come for a purpose,” the Man in the Boat proclaimed. “Like the rain and the snow that waters the earth and returns to heaven, I will not return to my Father empty. I am with you until the end of the ages. So, go now and grow! Scatter your own seeds of compassion and look around you. Teachers are everywhere, and you are my perpetual students.” Amen.