Have You Not Heard?
Isaiah 40:21-31; Mark 1:29-39
Let’s begin with a shout out to Charles Darwin, whose 200th birthday will be this Thursday. I wonder how many churches have taken note of the day, but we should celebrate the birth of this man whose insights gave the world a much keener appreciation of the way creation works.
This month’s Smithsonian has a piece on Darwin that ends with this paragraph,
Asked about gaps in Darwin’s knowledge, Francisco Ayala, a biologist at the University of California at Irvine, laughs. “That’s easy,” he says, “Darwin didn’t know 99 percent of what we know.” Which may sound bad, Ayala goes on, but “the 1 percent he did know was the most important part.”
Hold onto that thought; we’ll come back to it.
Have you ever been the bearer of news? Have you ever been the one to break the story for friends? Have you ever been a witness who gave an account?
I don’t have any great stories to tell. I can, however, recall a few times when I was the last to know. I was holed up working on my dissertation when the federal building in Oklahoma City was bombed. I was talking on the phone with my brother at least a day later when he said something about our father’s office of years ago being right across the street from the building that had been bombed, and I said, “what building are you talking about?”
Talk about feeling totally out of the loop, and a bit behind.
I heard from several old friends last week. It made me laugh; each of them sending me holiday greetings that hit the mailbox just after Groundhog Day. No, they were not “Groundhog Day Cards” – although I think there is a market for that.
The first note came from a dear friend who is more time impaired than I am. Let’s just say that it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if the card I just got was actually intended for Christmas 2007. Still, it was great to hear from her.
And, it’s not as if I’m one to beat the rush; in fact, last Christmas I gave up altogether and just put a Christmas post on my blog. Mind you, it was a darn fine post – with hyperlinks and pictures and all sorts of information that you don’t find in your ordinary, run-of-the-mill family holiday letter. It also did not require of me anything like copying, addressing or stuffing or stamping envelopes, or that final indignity – actually making it to the Post Office.
Perhaps e-mail is God’s gift to those of us who would otherwise be slower than the Pony Express.
Of course, not all news that travels so fast is good. I also got an e-mail last week from a high school classmate informing me of the death of another classmate. I do not recall knowing the woman who just died – in a class of 250 or so that happens. But the guy who sent the e-mail – the guy who sends all the e-mails that continue to bind together my class of ’78 – is the same guy who would have been voted “least likely to keep a current e-mail list and keep us connected” had anyone thought to imagine such an “award” 30-some years ago.
The last piece of correspondence came from a woman I’ve known since we were sixth graders together – a pair of smart kids who didn’t quite fit in, she because she’s Jewish in Chattanooga and me because I was forced to transfer into a new school in sixth grade due to desegregation realignments. Amy became my only close friend in that new school, and we’ve been friends ever since. I hadn’t heard from her in quite a while. Her second child is in college now, which is notable only because the spring before his senior year in high school he was diagnosed with a rare and serious cancer. He was on our prayer list for quite a while – Ethan Cohen – as his family struggled through the difficulty of his treatments for an entire year. It was truly good news to hear that he is doing so well now.
So, a trio of simple missives arriving in various forms over the course of several days. Nothing much in common among them, and nothing particularly unusual about them either, but they got me to thinking about news and connections and what we know and what we don’t know.
Have you not heard? Well, yes, I have, because a few folks took the time to tell me.
Have you not heard? Well, how would I if no one said anything?
Have you not heard? Well, what difference does it make that I did or didn’t?
Sharing news, speaking it, writing it, passing it along is essential to human life; it binds us together and creates communities.
Our communities are created by shared experience, by passing along the stories of life.
My friend Joe Nangle, writing in Sojourners some years back, said, “From time to time, we find ourselves called to form temporary communities. A stay in the hospital, the pilgrimage to an area of conflict, an occasional weekend reunion with one's extended family—these exceptional times present opportunities for true community, though we may miss seeing them as such. They surely require of us many of the same skills demanded by the more ordinary experiences of community.
In reflecting here on these occasional communities, we do not mean to include the brief exchanges of "I'm OK, you're OK." These are not the stuff of community. Rather, this meditation is about the intense life situations, which, though brief, draw us into true community. They are the building blocks of community just as surely as are the longer-term commitments to a stable and intentional group striving to achieve a purposeful communal life.”
The extent to which we create a community here can be measured by the extent to which we share the news of our lives, the stories that give shape, contour and context to our individual lives and our common life. That is surely true. But beyond that, the extent to which we create a purposeful community – that is to say, a community with a defining purpose – the extent to which we create such a purposeful community can be measured by the extent to which we share in the same news that Jesus shared – the extent to which we are, in some sense, comprehended by what Jesus comprehended.
The news that spread out ahead of Jesus – the stories of healing and wholeness – drew entire towns to him. Good news has the power to attract. At the same time, Jesus clearly understood that the good news was not the private property of a few lucky ones, but rather it belonged to all. He was compelled to go into the next town and the town after that to share the message of hope and restoration.
“Let’s go on the next town, and the one after that. They need to know. They need to hear. I have to share this news with them, because that’s why I am here.”
It’s been some 2,000 years since then. Think about all that Jesus did not know that we know now. A bit like that quote about Darwin 200 years after his birth, but I’d guess that in Jesus’ case he didn’t know 999 things out of 1,000 that we know today – the origin of the species among them.
But the one thing that he did know was the most important thing of all.
He understood, he knew in the deepest part of his being, that in the deepest part of an evolving creation – no matter how it works – at the deepest part of creation beats a heart of love for each of us, and moreover, if we live out of that reality it makes all the difference in the world. If nothing in life or in death can separate us from that love, then we are liberated from fear, set free to love and to build loving communities.
All of the news, all of the stories that shape our lives – from the mundane to the profound – are given new meaning, real meaning, ultimate meaning to the extent that we understand them in light of that one simple truth, that one message of good news.
All of the news, whether it is the current bad economic news or the latest scientific breakthrough, whether it is the birth of a baby or the death of a classmate, whether it is a recovery of health or the onset of disease – all of the news is given its ultimate meaning to the extent that we understand it in light of that one simple truth, that one message of good news.
It does not matter if you are the first to hear or the last one in the loop, if you know that you are loved and you are living out of that love. It does not matter if you are the herald of the scoop of the day or the one who is always just finding out last week’s story, if you know that you are loved and you are living out of that love. It does not matter if you are cutting edge or still in the analog age, if you know that you are loved and you are living out of that love.
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth who does not grow weary of loving creation.
So do not let the news of the day beat you down. You are beloved, and that love shall renew your strength so that you mount up with wings like eagles, your will run and not be weary, walk and not stumble or fall.
Have you not heard?
Amen.
c. 2009, David Ensign
Let’s begin with a shout out to Charles Darwin, whose 200th birthday will be this Thursday. I wonder how many churches have taken note of the day, but we should celebrate the birth of this man whose insights gave the world a much keener appreciation of the way creation works.
This month’s Smithsonian has a piece on Darwin that ends with this paragraph,
Asked about gaps in Darwin’s knowledge, Francisco Ayala, a biologist at the University of California at Irvine, laughs. “That’s easy,” he says, “Darwin didn’t know 99 percent of what we know.” Which may sound bad, Ayala goes on, but “the 1 percent he did know was the most important part.”
Hold onto that thought; we’ll come back to it.
Have you ever been the bearer of news? Have you ever been the one to break the story for friends? Have you ever been a witness who gave an account?
I don’t have any great stories to tell. I can, however, recall a few times when I was the last to know. I was holed up working on my dissertation when the federal building in Oklahoma City was bombed. I was talking on the phone with my brother at least a day later when he said something about our father’s office of years ago being right across the street from the building that had been bombed, and I said, “what building are you talking about?”
Talk about feeling totally out of the loop, and a bit behind.
I heard from several old friends last week. It made me laugh; each of them sending me holiday greetings that hit the mailbox just after Groundhog Day. No, they were not “Groundhog Day Cards” – although I think there is a market for that.
The first note came from a dear friend who is more time impaired than I am. Let’s just say that it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if the card I just got was actually intended for Christmas 2007. Still, it was great to hear from her.
And, it’s not as if I’m one to beat the rush; in fact, last Christmas I gave up altogether and just put a Christmas post on my blog. Mind you, it was a darn fine post – with hyperlinks and pictures and all sorts of information that you don’t find in your ordinary, run-of-the-mill family holiday letter. It also did not require of me anything like copying, addressing or stuffing or stamping envelopes, or that final indignity – actually making it to the Post Office.
Perhaps e-mail is God’s gift to those of us who would otherwise be slower than the Pony Express.
Of course, not all news that travels so fast is good. I also got an e-mail last week from a high school classmate informing me of the death of another classmate. I do not recall knowing the woman who just died – in a class of 250 or so that happens. But the guy who sent the e-mail – the guy who sends all the e-mails that continue to bind together my class of ’78 – is the same guy who would have been voted “least likely to keep a current e-mail list and keep us connected” had anyone thought to imagine such an “award” 30-some years ago.
The last piece of correspondence came from a woman I’ve known since we were sixth graders together – a pair of smart kids who didn’t quite fit in, she because she’s Jewish in Chattanooga and me because I was forced to transfer into a new school in sixth grade due to desegregation realignments. Amy became my only close friend in that new school, and we’ve been friends ever since. I hadn’t heard from her in quite a while. Her second child is in college now, which is notable only because the spring before his senior year in high school he was diagnosed with a rare and serious cancer. He was on our prayer list for quite a while – Ethan Cohen – as his family struggled through the difficulty of his treatments for an entire year. It was truly good news to hear that he is doing so well now.
So, a trio of simple missives arriving in various forms over the course of several days. Nothing much in common among them, and nothing particularly unusual about them either, but they got me to thinking about news and connections and what we know and what we don’t know.
Have you not heard? Well, yes, I have, because a few folks took the time to tell me.
Have you not heard? Well, how would I if no one said anything?
Have you not heard? Well, what difference does it make that I did or didn’t?
Sharing news, speaking it, writing it, passing it along is essential to human life; it binds us together and creates communities.
Our communities are created by shared experience, by passing along the stories of life.
My friend Joe Nangle, writing in Sojourners some years back, said, “From time to time, we find ourselves called to form temporary communities. A stay in the hospital, the pilgrimage to an area of conflict, an occasional weekend reunion with one's extended family—these exceptional times present opportunities for true community, though we may miss seeing them as such. They surely require of us many of the same skills demanded by the more ordinary experiences of community.
In reflecting here on these occasional communities, we do not mean to include the brief exchanges of "I'm OK, you're OK." These are not the stuff of community. Rather, this meditation is about the intense life situations, which, though brief, draw us into true community. They are the building blocks of community just as surely as are the longer-term commitments to a stable and intentional group striving to achieve a purposeful communal life.”
The extent to which we create a community here can be measured by the extent to which we share the news of our lives, the stories that give shape, contour and context to our individual lives and our common life. That is surely true. But beyond that, the extent to which we create a purposeful community – that is to say, a community with a defining purpose – the extent to which we create such a purposeful community can be measured by the extent to which we share in the same news that Jesus shared – the extent to which we are, in some sense, comprehended by what Jesus comprehended.
The news that spread out ahead of Jesus – the stories of healing and wholeness – drew entire towns to him. Good news has the power to attract. At the same time, Jesus clearly understood that the good news was not the private property of a few lucky ones, but rather it belonged to all. He was compelled to go into the next town and the town after that to share the message of hope and restoration.
“Let’s go on the next town, and the one after that. They need to know. They need to hear. I have to share this news with them, because that’s why I am here.”
It’s been some 2,000 years since then. Think about all that Jesus did not know that we know now. A bit like that quote about Darwin 200 years after his birth, but I’d guess that in Jesus’ case he didn’t know 999 things out of 1,000 that we know today – the origin of the species among them.
But the one thing that he did know was the most important thing of all.
He understood, he knew in the deepest part of his being, that in the deepest part of an evolving creation – no matter how it works – at the deepest part of creation beats a heart of love for each of us, and moreover, if we live out of that reality it makes all the difference in the world. If nothing in life or in death can separate us from that love, then we are liberated from fear, set free to love and to build loving communities.
All of the news, all of the stories that shape our lives – from the mundane to the profound – are given new meaning, real meaning, ultimate meaning to the extent that we understand them in light of that one simple truth, that one message of good news.
All of the news, whether it is the current bad economic news or the latest scientific breakthrough, whether it is the birth of a baby or the death of a classmate, whether it is a recovery of health or the onset of disease – all of the news is given its ultimate meaning to the extent that we understand it in light of that one simple truth, that one message of good news.
It does not matter if you are the first to hear or the last one in the loop, if you know that you are loved and you are living out of that love. It does not matter if you are the herald of the scoop of the day or the one who is always just finding out last week’s story, if you know that you are loved and you are living out of that love. It does not matter if you are cutting edge or still in the analog age, if you know that you are loved and you are living out of that love.
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth who does not grow weary of loving creation.
So do not let the news of the day beat you down. You are beloved, and that love shall renew your strength so that you mount up with wings like eagles, your will run and not be weary, walk and not stumble or fall.
Have you not heard?
Amen.
c. 2009, David Ensign
posted by David Ensign at
8:11 AM
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