Throughout my life, I can reflect back on the ways in which I have been privileged to have many different teachers and how many of my most important lessons in life have come from unexpected places. One continual, and perhaps surprising teacher, is a well-known painter from whom I learned that, “there are no mistakes, only happy accidents.” Bob Ross, who had an uninterrupted painting show on PBS in the ‘80s and ‘90s, would build a whole world upon a canvas in thirty uninterrupted minutes. A key part of this, and a lesson that I continually return to is how contrast is how you create the world you want. If you want a bright summer day, you start with a hazy dim background; if you want to show the rushing of a stream, you paint a still, unmoving rock, around which the water sweeps. I learned a lot from Bob Ross, like turning mistakes into happy little trees, but I also learned that without contrast, we struggle to see the whole picture.
The Gospel texts selected for today come, as they always do from the Revised Common Lectionary, and I while these are chosen by people smarter than me, I’d have to say I wonder how much Bob Ross the creators of the Lectionary have watched, because our Gospel lesson is distinctly missing some key and vital moments of contrast. If you’ll notice, though, in your bulletin the Lectionary skips over a set of verses from Mark chapter 6. In between Jesus inviting the disciples to come away and rest and the masses of people desperate for Christ’s healing is not a rambling detailed account of Jesus walking from one place to the next, but rather the story of the feeding of the 5,000. Why would they leave out one of Christ’s undoubtedly greatest miracles and especially one so comforting and empowering for the disciples and for the crowds of people for whom he had compassion? Isn’t the big miracle of the feeding of the 5,000 the big and important part of this moment in Jesus’s life?
But maybe this is the point. Maybe the point isn’t the big, ‘important’ parts of the story, maybe the contrast comes from the absence of this story we might expect to hear. Maybe the invitation of today’s gospel lesson is not to have a faith that believes in giant, powerful miracles, but is instead a holy and simple invitation to rest and to heal.
Imagine a world where God’s invitation to rest and to heal is just as powerful and compelling as a miraculous feeding. I don’t think it’s too hard because if most of us let ourselves sit with the words of Christ, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while” then I think many of us might be moved to tears. In our society, rest is rarely praised and is often viewed as a failure, but here we have Christ not commanding it of his disciples but inviting them to it. They had just returned from being sent out to do grueling work, with nothing but the clothes on their back and their sandals on their feet, and Christ’s response isn’t to ask them to present to the group what they learned but is instead an invitation to receive God’s rest.
After this invitation, Christ sees the crowds of people and has compassion upon them, and teaches (and of course, feeds them too). After this, the people are so moved by their faith, that they bring the people they love who are sick to be healed. All around Christ were those in need of healing, and to all who touched even the hem of Christ’s robe were healed. While I would agree that the story of the feeding of the 5,000 has got more star story power, I am actually grateful for the creators of the Lectionary in their choosing to give us the ‘unimportant’ parts of the story. I’m grateful this morning to hear God’s invitation to healing and rest.
I’m grateful because it means I’m not alone in my need for this healing and rest; I’m grateful because it means you aren’t alone in your need for healing and rest, either. Perhaps the creators of the Lectionary have offered us a great gift that couldn’t be better timed if we tried. As usual, the Lectionary often comes through when we need it. Rest might look like time away in a deserted place or closing your eyes and lifting your face to the warm summer sun or it might look watching an episode of The Joy of Painting with Bob Ross on YouTube; I don’t know what you need, but I literally don’t know anyone who isn’t in need of rest right now. And beloveds, it is more than likely that each of us are in need of healing; whether it’s putting your hand over your heart and expressing gratitude for making it through chaotic day. Rest and healing is what is offered to us today.
My prayer for us this week is not one that challenges us to go out and be an example of Christ in the world, making the most of this short time we have on this earth, though as Christians, this is always on the table. No rather, my prayer is that we will take up God’s invitation to be like Christ as we accept deep rest and needed healing. Only you know what sort of rest and healing you or your family need, but I truly believe that it is available to us. And I don’t mean this just metaphorically or poetically, I genuinely believe that when Christ tells the disciples to come away and rest for a while, that he would delight in us doing that as well. Take a moment and just imagine Christ delighting in you taking a rest and embracing the healings offered to you. Delight, my friends; I truly believe that God would delight in the joy of us taking up this invitation.
And this is the invitation of today’s gospel lesson: God’s compassion, God’s care, and God’s healing are made ready for us; God is inviting us to them today, our only job to embrace this invitation and to rest our weary bodies and souls and trust in God’s abundant healing.
A sermon delivered on Mark 6: 30-34, 53-56 to the people of Christ Episcopal Church in Bowling Green, KY for Proper 11B on July 21, 2024.
Becca Kello 