The Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost-The Rev Melanie Lemburg

 


21st Sunday after Pentecost-Proper 24B

October 17, 2021

 

        This past week, I listened to Brene’ Brown’s podcast Unlocking Us—a recent episode where she interviews Esther Perel, who is a Belgian born psychologist who specializes in relationships and who is the child of Holocaust survivors.  The two women chat about uncertainty, about life in the pandemic, about story-telling, and about how we reframe roles in our significant relationships.  Esther Perel asks Brene about her experience in the pandemic saying, “Has it changed over time? Is your answer evolving, or do you feel like you felt similarly a year ago, or do you think in the beginning, and then there was that phase… I have phases at this point.”  Brene replies, “Yes, I think I went to war with uncertainty. It, of course, won.…Yeah, I thought I could beat it down. And I’ve learned to move with it, but almost kind of like riding a wave, sometimes I’m right on top of it, and we’re riding together and there’s me and uncertainty, are moving together in this kind of rhythmic way, and sometimes it crashes over me and takes me down. So, I’m on that ride.”  Perel responds wisely, “You have this definition somewhere of vulnerability as comprising, emotional exposure, risk and uncertainty, and I thought, this is actually not just the definition of vulnerability inside of us, this is actually a definition of the world we live in. It’s no longer just an individual experience, it is really a collective experience. We are in a phase of prolonged uncertainty, with no end in sight whatsoever, we are dealing with risk and trust, and risk and safety, and we’re struggling that whole thing, and then we are trying to remain connected in the midst of all of that. And what is the emotional exposure that that connection invites us to do? And I just thought your triad here is just a perfect description of the world at large, and not just of the individual psychology.”[i]

        The two then go on to chat about how some people go through their lives with the belief, the sense that they are in complete control of their destiny and others go through life with the sense that the whole world could come crashing down on them at any moment.  It was interesting and helpful for me to listen to these two wise women talk casually about how different people deal with uncertainty and how that affects our relationships. 

        We see this at work in our gospel reading (and possibly in the Job reading as well) this week, but it is not apparent at first glance.  Our lectionary has left out two really important verses that come right before our reading for today.  They are absolutely critical in setting the scene; here is what they say: “They (Jesus and the disciples) were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”  Then it picks up with today’s reading, where James and John approach Jesus with their request. 

This setting is critical for a couple of reasons.  First, it’s important to recognize that this whole exchange happens on this prolonged journey on the road to Jerusalem.  Second, it’s important to note that this is the third time in Mark’s gospel that Jesus has predicted his death and the disciples have misunderstood.  And finally, it’s important to recognize how confused and afraid  Jesus’s followers and especially his closest disciples are at this point. 

        All of this takes a story where it is super easy for us to judge James and John for their arrogance, and it helps us to see that they are really no different than us.  They are trying to wage a war against uncertainty in the only way they know how.  If Jesus is going to die as he tells them, then at least they can ask for the security, the assurance of knowing where they will be—on his right hand an on his left.  Externally, they appear to be arrogant and anger the other disciples, but in reality, internally, they are deeply afraid and uncertain about what the future holds for all of them.  If we are being faithful, then perhaps we can relate to James and John and reflect on the ways that we have tried to wage war against uncertainty in the past and reflect on how our externals may have reflected something completely different from what was going on in our hearts.

        In the passage from the Old Testament, Job has suffered nonsensical, catastrophic loss (his wife, his children, his animals, his servants….).  He enters a debate with his friends about Job’s plight, and Job demands a response from God saying, “O that I had one to hear me!/

   (Here is my signature! Let the Almighty answer me!)”  Job takes the war against uncertainty straight to God, and our reading for today gives us God’s response.  God is telling Job that Job doesn’t know what he doesn’t know, which, rather than instilling certainty, actually ups the ante on uncertainty. 

        So where is the good news in all of this? 

        Singer, songwriter, and poet Carrie Newcomer has written a poem about the process of sitting with uncertainty and how to practice kindness to ones self and to others as a part of this process.[ii]

     (To read the poem, see the image attached to this post.) 

        Newcomer shared an invitation with this poem that I invite you to join me in practicing this week.  When you feel the first flutter of uncertainty in your heart, instead of waging war against it, lay your hand gently on your heart, and say, with the tenderness and kindness you would offer a good friend, breath and say “Oh, honey” and pay attention to how that shifts the frame. 

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