Sermon Archive

"When the Saints Go Marching", Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Date: July 19, 2009, The Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
Author: Pastor Robyn Eddy

        We’re coming into the middle of an ongoing story that started a couple weeks ago. Earlier in Mark chapter 6, Jesus sent out his 12 apostles into the region to try their hand at ministry—preaching, healing, and driving out demons. Mark doesn’t tell us how long they were at this, a few days? A week? But long enough for word to spread about this growing ministry. And now we come to our passage. (read vs. 30-34) Now our lectionary reading has us jump over a very important story—Jesus feeding this shepherdless crowd of 5000 or so hungry souls with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish. He then directs the disciples to head to the other side of the sea of Gallilee where he’ll join them later, by walking on water, no less. You’ll get to spend more time with these stories next week, but for now we jump back into the lectionary text: (read vs 53-56). The gospel of the Lord. Praise to you O Christ.

       Lord, here we are gathered at your feet, hoping to touch even just the fringe on your cloak. Open our ears to hear your voice. May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of our hearts be pleasing to you, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

       Two days from now, 33 of us will touch down at Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans, Louisiana. I can’t help but think it’s kinda interesting that they named an airport after Louis Armstrong. He is a real hero in New Orleans, with quite a story. He was born there in abject poverty, bouncing around from home to home, living on the streets sometimes, sometimes in a delinquent boys boarding school, working odd jobs as a kid, hauling junk, hauling coal, just trying to survive. He spent a lot of his childhood hanging out in bars and brothels, surrounded by the music of New Orleans. As rough as life could be, Louis Armstrong also found some very generous and kind people who helped him develop as a trumpet player. As a teenager, his playing was getting noticed and this allowed him to travel, first, playing jazz up and down the Mississippi on paddle boat tours. Then further afield to New York, Chicago, Los Angeles. Jazz music became increasingly popular in Europe, and Armstrong lived for a while as an expat, and eventually became known as the “Ambassador of Jazz.” In the 1950’s and 60’s, the US State Department even sponsored several international tours for Armstrong, especially in regions of the world where our government wanted to improve its image—like Eastern Europe and newly independent African nations.
        After decades of world travel, seeing the great diversity of cultures, human struggles and conflict, and our shared hopes, Armstrong recorded his classic “What a Wonderful World” in 1962. Some of the lyrics go, “the colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky, and also on the faces of people going by. I see friends shaking hands, saying, ‘how do you do.’ They’re really saying, ‘I love you.’ I see babies crying, I watch them grow, they’ll learn much more than I’ll ever know, and I think to myself, ‘What a wonderful world.’”  He explained some of his thoughts on the song when he said, “All I’m saying is, see what a wonderful world it would be if only we would give it a chance. Love, baby, love. That’s the secret.” And yet, with all this global experience, he also said, “Every time I close my eyes blowing that trumpet of mine-- I look right in the heart of good old New Orleans… It has given me something to live for.”
        So I guess it’s appropriate that an airport—a place of venturing out and returning home again—should be named after this local hero. Louis Armstrong always cherished his roots in New Orleans, a city colored by a rainbow of cultures and races, but he was equally shaped by his many travels and the unique experiences that only travel can bring to someone’s life. And it’s that travel experience that 33 of us are about to share that I hope will enrich and challenge our faith in the next two weeks.
        In a year of economic recession, it seems like a real extravagance for so many of us to travel so far for a youth ministry summer trip. I’ve heard people question the value of it—when there’s plenty of need and so many opportunities for service in our own community, why go so far away at such expense. $47,000 could do a whole lot more good if nearly half that amount weren’t going down the drain for plane tickets and hotel expenses. And yet, it’s a testimony to the value of travel itself, and the growth that new cultures and new places can bring, that this congregation has so generously supported our fundraising efforts. So, we all say a big thank you for the gift you’ve given us in being able to take this journey.
        Jesus was a traveler, too. The incarnation itself is a travel story, The Word becoming flesh and coming to live among us. As a child, his parents took Jesus to Egypt, and up to the big city, Jerusalem. As an adult, travel was an integral part of Jesus’ pattern of ministry, traveling on foot and by boat, crossing cultural boundaries to minister among the Samaritans, the Gentiles, and of course his fellow Jews.
        I love that he encouraged his closest disciples to travel, too. They followed him all over Israel and Palestine, and in time, he sent them out, two by two, into the region to preach, heal, and minister to the people, instructing them to travel light—no suitcases or credit cards—to fully experience the hospitality in each place they visited. In the opening verses from today’s gospel, Jesus gathers his disciples back together so he can hear their travel stories. Mark writes, “The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught.” I think Jesus got frustrated that their storytelling kept getting interrupted by crowds and disciples coming and going, so he suggested they “come away” and find a quieter place to rest and talk together. So they pack up in a boat and travel some more, but alas, even there, crowds flock to them, like sheep without a shepherd, like lost tourists without their guide, not even a Fodoors or Lonely Planet.
        The same thing happened in the second half of our gospel reading, after feeding the 5000, after walking on water, traveling back across the Sea of Galilee to the region of Gennesaret. Again crowds flock to them. Listen to all the traveling going on in this passage, “people at once recognized Jesus, and rushed about that whole region, and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was, and wherever Jesus went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces and begged him [for healing]” Jesus is traveling, but the needy people are traveling, too. All this movement isn’t just for a change of scenery, there’s a spiritual vulnerability that happens when we leave the comfort of our own turf, a vulnerability that opens us up to the working of the Holy Spirit.
        This morning’s passage from Ephesians points us toward the spiritual affects of travel, and Jesus’ ultimate reason for living such an itinerate life. Paul writes, “In Christ, you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us… that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace… so he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off, and peace to those who were near; for though him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father.”
        Jesus traveled in order to bring peace: peace in our relationship with God, giving us full access to our Heavenly Father, and peace in our relationship with others, in a world where cultural divisions and literal walls are at the root of so much violence and destruction. Just think of all the wars and fighting going on around the world today, and how much of that is rooted in cultural clashes. Or even the conflicts that happen in our own church, our own workplaces, even our own homes, how much of that is rooted in cultural misunderstandings between generations, between lifestyles, between outlooks.
        Jesus came to bring peace, and Jesus calls us to be peacemakers. “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called Children of God.” A crucial step in living into that peacemaker calling is direct experience of other cultures, and that can only come through traveling out of our comfort zone. I’m sure the traveling disciples were astounded by the generosity of people, even from those whom they’d held a prejudice against. I think of the apostle Paul’s extensive travel experience and how that shaped him to become a true advocate for the full inclusion of Gentiles in the early Church. Travel forces us to become vulnerable, and forces us to rely on the hospitality of the world around us. If travel opens our eyes to anything, it’s that really, people in every culture and every place have so much more in common than we realize. I think to myself, what a wonderful world, so full of grace and goodwill. And when we realize our common humanity, we can take Jesus’ call to be peacemakers that much more to heart.
        Our journey in New Orleans and Mississippi will change our hearts, our minds, and our faith on many levels. It will be a cultural immersion experience that will hopefully help us learn to respect, and even embrace other cultures. We will see and meet the colors of the rainbow on the faces of the people going by, as Armstrong sang. And while we will have the opportunity to serve them by helping rebuild their homes, just as importantly, we will hear their stories of tragedy and recovery, faith and hope. Them telling their stories, and our intentional listening will be another step toward spiritual healing for the region, and step toward spiritual transformation for us, teaching us greater compassion, helping us recognize our common humanity.
        We’re not going to New Orleans as tourists to be entertained, although I’m sure there will be moments like that. I’ve told the students to think of themselves more like journalists, looking for knowledge, or as anthropologists looking for understanding, and better yet, to go as peacemakers looking for our common connections with these people from the opposite corner of our nation.
        This Friday, we’ll be spending most of the day at a major New Orleans tourist attraction: Blaine Kern’s Mardi Gras World. It’s like a warehouse where they store and make many of the floats and props for the famous Mardi Gras parades. I went there in February—it’s full of dazzling colors and glittering lights, whimsical sculptures and playful energy. We may or may not be asked to help do some work there, but our primary purpose for going is cultural immersion and diversity appreciation. We’re there to gather stories and understanding. We’ll learn about the history of Mardi Gras, including its ties with racism, economic exploitation, religious prejudice, and other injustices. We’ll also learn how it has helped unify a very diverse city, preserved a unique culture, and brought healing to the city after Hurricane Katrina. And I hope that all this learning will also help us to look with peacemaker eyes at our own celebrations here in Eugene—where are the injustices and the grace in the Eugene Celebration parade, or a homecoming dance; the way we celebrate Easter or the 4th of July or a Birthday in our own family?
        To get to Mardi Gras World, we will travel much like Jesus and his disciples. We will walk in the sweaty heat, we will ride on a boat (a ferry across the Mississippi), and then we will walk some more. And on the way, we will march past a statue of a local hero, Mr. Louis Armstrong, blowing on his trumpet. I like to imagine he’ll be playing his rendition of “When the saints go marching in” because like Jesus, we’ve journeyed there as saintly servants, to share a message of peace. We will experience for ourselves how, as different as we all are, Christ has brought together those who were far-off and created one new humanity, united by the grace of God. Lord, I want to be in that number, when the saints go marching in. Amen.

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