1/21/16 Reflection - Prescriptions

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/012116.cfm

1 Samuel 18:6-9 19:1-7
Mark 3:7-12

These five verses from the Gospel of Mark convey a simplicity that could easily be lost in a mountain of words. But they also suggest serious questions about purpose and acceptance and choice. In Mark's previous chapter, Jesus had clearly distinguished himself from John. In the process he had aroused the suspicions and anger of the Pharisees. He had healed a few people; and amazement and curiosity had subsequently spread throughout the relatively short length and breadth of the land. As we enter the story in this passage, which comes early in Jesus' ministry, we hear of a large number of people being drawn to him from all over the region. Although the distances were not great, their various journeys could easily have taken anywhere from a few hours to several days.

The reading seems to leave more unsaid than said. 

I couldn't help but wonder, What did they expect to find? What were they looking for? Did they find what they were seeking or did their own preconceived answers get in the way? Did they accept what they heard? Did they act on it?

People undertake travels like this for a variety of reasons, some personal and some social. Some reasons are from the heart, others from the head. They may have gone to Galilee out of curiosity, or hope, or just the comradery of traveling with friends. Either Israeli nationalism or a hatred of Rome could have played a part. They may have made the journey with a desire to alleviate an inner suffering or a sense of alienation. They may have come seeking peace or purpose or the fulfillment of a promise. Some of these people had diseases or physical disabilities. Mark tells us that much; and we hear of Jesus healing many of these people in the pages of the Gospels--- not just here, but throughout the text. Maybe their pilgrimage was due to the fact that holiness attracts, that all men are drawn to whatever arouses our sense of the sacred just as Moses was drawn to the burning bush.

It seems safe to say that all the reasons that might be offered for journeys like the ones these people were making could be summarized as reasons directed by a desire for wholeness. Physical wholeness, mental wholeness, spiritual wholeness, even cultural or political wholeness. When we sense some sort of inadequacy or deficiency or even just the awareness that there must be more, we turn toward whatever we believe will make us whole. But that doesn't mean we will accept the solutions offered. And whatever their reasons for their journeys to Jesus, I have to wonder if they found what they were seeking.

I knew a person who repeatedly went to doctors. The physical ailments were genuine, even if somewhat exaggerated. The doctors even assured him that there was a physical issue that required treatment. A regimen of specific drugs was prescribed, duly purchased and never taken. Weeks or months later the same person would be meeting with the same doctor who would diagnose the same condition and prescribe the same medications which, again, were subsequently purchased and never taken. What was that person looking for? The pattern never changed before death intervened. The sequence of events suggests that they never found what they were seeking.

I know another person who clearly has a debilitating condition; one which is persistent, progressive and painful. The pharmaceutical treatments prescribed have serious risks, both short and long term. Their doctor appointments are regularly scheduled and faithfully kept. The drugs and treatments prescribed are willingly accepted and followed. The person never gets better. All that is being done medically merely slows the progress of the ailment. Yet, this same person will not even try acting on the advice of a friend who has triumphed over a similar condition because the advice requires a simple change of diet and lifestyle. What are they looking for? Why do they reject the possibility that they are offered the solution they are seeking?

Jesus withdrew toward the sea with his disciples.
A large number of people followed from Galilee and from Judea.
Hearing what he was doing, a large number of people came to him also
from Jerusalem, from Idumea, from beyond the Jordan,
and from the neighborhood of Tyre and Sidon.

Why did they come? What were they seeking?

Upon hearing the physician's prescription for wholeness would they prefer the pain and suffering they knew, fearing the truth that his medications might bring? Upon hearing of an alternative that might free them from enslavement to their disease, would they resist a simple route to wholeness, discarding even the simple as too difficult? 

Elsewhere in the gospels we find Jesus telling his followers: Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (Matthew 11:28-29) I read this text and find his prescription for my life to be an unsettling challenge. His words are a medication that he promises will bring wholeness to my existence; but I must absorb and assimilate them daily. Will I hear his diagnosis, take his prescription and incorporate him and make him a part of me? And I find that the questions I've been asking are no longer about those Jews from two thousand years ago who were traveling from the far corners of their country to encounter this itinerant preacher who had raised such a stir among the populace. The questions are now; they are for me. Why have I journeyed toward him in the first place? What did I expect to find? What was I looking for? Have I found what I have been seeking or have I let my own preconceived answers get in the way? Have I accepted what I have heard?

I have, throughout my life, journeyed toward him. I know that much. And here I am. He is facing me now. He always has been. His hand is outstretched with the healing only he can offer, as it always has been. What will I do today? He looks at me with warm and caring eyes. My yoke is easy, and my burden is light. He says. (Matthew 11:30) Is the unknown which he offers going to fill that emptiness I feel and make me whole? Is the hollowness which endures in spite of my self medication actually going to ease the more deeply I accept his promise? My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Could it really be so simple?

I am the way, and the truth, and the life;
no one comes to the Father, but by me. (John 14:6)