Pentecost 6, Year A
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56; Eph 2:11-22; Jer 23:1-6
July 20, 2003
Grace to you and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away,
Obi-wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker are trying to deliver stolen plans
of the evil empire’s new secret weapon, the Death Star,
to their rebel base on the planet of Alderan.
They hire Han Solo and his first mate Chewbacca,
who fly what they claim is the fastest ship in the galaxy, the Millennium Falcon,
to get them to Alderan without any interference from the Empire.
And so, they jump into hyperspace – a science fiction term for traveling really fast –
and within a few movie minutes they arrive at Alderan.
Or what they thought was Alderan.
When they pulled out of hyperspace they found themselves in an asteroid field,
being pelted by rocks of all shapes and sizes.
Before they can figure out that the planet Alderan had been destroyed
by the Death Star,
they are caught in it’s tractor beam,
a massive gravity-like force that draws an object near.
The crew of the Millennium Falcon –
Han Solo, Chewbacca and the others – try to escape the tractor beam –
they work the engines and the thrusters and even the turbo blasters,
but they are unable to escape the power of the tractor beam,
which pulls them closer and closer to the Death Star.
No matter what they do, no matter how hard they try,
they are drawn closer and closer and closer.
Being drawn close, drawn near to something.
When we’re drawn close to something,
it’s something that happens to us –
it’s not something we do, but something which is done to us.
Sure, we can move closer to something,
but when we’re drawn to something it is an outside, external force which draws us.
It’s as if there’s a string on our chest pulling us towards.
We can’t help but be drawn.
I think of the hundreds and thousands of New Yorkers who,
in the days following September 11,
were drawn
to Manhattan Washington Square Park
Some were there to post pictures in search of loved ones.
But so many others were there simply to gather,
to be with other people,
to share in the human experience, in the tragedy which just occurred,
to share the loneliness of loss and pain and anger.
They sang, they prayed, they wept, they meditated, they stood silently.
They were drawn there.
Out of a need for community, for comfort, for support,
they were drawn to a common place.
One young person gathered in the square said, “I just had to be here. How could I not?”
Being drawn.
Today’s Gospel text is about being drawn.
Hundreds – thousands – of people in the Galilee
Sure, there’s more than a few ounces of curiosity in this mix –
after all, quite a reputation preceded Jesus wherever he went.
In the first five chapters of Mark’s gospel,
Jesus casts out a demon from the man on the hillside,
sending the demon into the pigs, who them drown themselves in the sea.
A woman, who simply touched the hem of his robe,
was healed of a life-long hemorrhage.
A twelve-year old girl was raised from the dead.
The winds and the waters were calmed by Jesus’ command.
A leper was healed.
And teachings. Jesus spoke with wisdom and authority that amazed even the priests and scribes.
And so yes, when Jesus came to a town,
chances are the locals had heard of him,
and were eager – or curious, or driven, or desperate or excited or anxious or . . . .
Whatever the emotion, whatever the feeling,
they were drawn. They were drawn near, to each other and to Jesus.
We are drawn.
We are drawn here, to this place where we hear the peculiar message of the Gospel.
We are drawn together – we do not hear this peculiar message alone.
We are drawn towards God –
drawn towards a God of love and peace and joy and compassion and justice.
We are drawn,
for whatever reason – for a variety of reasons, perhaps.
Perhaps we like the people in the pews,
perhaps we like the pastor (sorry to disappoint you)
perhaps we like the atmosphere,
perhaps we like the music,
perhaps we want to hear God’s word,
perhaps we believe it’s the right thing to do.
Perhaps, too, it is a combination of things.
Perhaps, though, we aren’t sure exactly why we come here.
Perhaps it’s somewhat of an uncontrollable attraction,
an experience of being drawn to this place, to this community,
to these people, to this God –
and we don’t know why!
We just know that we’re drawn, we’re here, and we need what we get here.
There’s something about the spiritual food – the Word and the Meal –
There’s something about the community, where we experience the love of God.
There’s something about this place and the practice of coming here,
to dwell with God and God’s people.
Yes, there’s something about this God and God’s people that draws us near.
We are drawn.
So, like those people in Galilee 2000 years ago, we are drawn.
We are drawn to God and to each other.
But as wonderful and blessed as our gathering is, it is incomplete.
We are separated from our brothers and sisters who are different from us.
Religion, race, class divide us.
And so as we gather here on this morning,
we are gathered as the incomplete people of God.
Yes, it is a blessing that God has drawn us together, to be with each other and to hear the Word.
Yes, we are blessed to be in community together,
for God has worked many miracles to bring us
and our different personalities and hopes and joys and expectations
together to form a community.
But despite all this, we’re incomplete.
Whether it is the fact that fellow Christians – our brothers and sisters in Christ! –
worship the same God down the street in a slightly different tradition,
or whether it is the fact that racial and economic differences
keep us from enjoying the richness of God’s diverse creation in our worship,
we’re incomplete.
With such obvious barriers dividing God’s people, we today are incomplete.
But the Good News is that God’s promise is to draw us – and all God’s children – near
In the second reading St. Paul reminds us that the great division in his day –
the division between Greek and Jew –
was torn down by God.
Describing God’s action to bring together two peoples formerly divided Paul says,
“But now in Christ Jesus you who were far off have been brought near
by the blood of Christ . . . in his flesh he has made both groups one
and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.”
Yes, dear friends, it is God’s hope and intention and plan for humanity that we be united.
In the first reading from the prophet Jeremiah,
using the metaphor of shepherds and sheep,
God decries that the shepherds have scattered God’s sheep,
for God desires unity, not division, among God’s people.
Yes, God’s promise is to break down the hostility that exists between us and our neighbors,
so that we can live in the fullness of God’s grace.
God does bring us together,
and God will continue to bring us together,
so that we might truly see and experience the wholeness of the divine family,
and be comforted by the compassion and grace of a God who draws us near.
Near to God.
Near to each other.
And near to a future kingdom, where the walls of hostility and division are broken down,
and where all eat from a common table, drink from a common cup,
and share equally in the joy and grace of God.
Amen.
