Third Sunday after EPIPHANY (Written on January 16, 2009)

For the Lectionary (what's a lectionary?) of January 18, 2009: Mark 1:14-20

"And immediately they left their nets and followed him."

NOW by Larry Patten

In a grove of lodgepole pines, branches still dripping from a summer rain, I asked my (future) wife to marry me. At the time we were leading a church youth backpack with several other adults. Midway through a lakeside saunter by our camp, words escaped my mouth.

She didn’t say “no.” Didn’t say “yes.” It was more so immediate, so unexpected, that she asked me to wait. “Try again, but right now I can’t give an answer.”

Four months later I tried again. Is four months a long time or is it immediately after?

I write these words in January 2009. In a few days Barack Obama will become the 44th President of the United States. Almost forty-six years ago in 1963, near the place where Obama will vow to uphold the Constitution, Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his “I have a dream” speech.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up, live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold this truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal . . .

You know the speech. Over and over, a sublime orator, King repeats the phrase, “I have a dream.” One day, one day, one day . . . a dream will be fulfilled. How many days were there between a hot August afternoon in 1963 and a presidential promise spoken in the midst of a Washington D.C. winter? How immediate is that?

Immediate is a seductive, elusive notion.

In Mark’s Gospel “immediate” may be the most popular word to describe or distinguish the actions of faith.

In Mark’s first chapter, a variation of immediate appears everywhere. Jesus invited Simon and Andrew to join him. Immediately they do. At chapter’s end, a leper was healed . . . immediately. And don’t forget the immediate synonyms: approaching Simon’s house Jesus was told “at once” (Mark 1:30) about the poor health of Simon’s mother-in-law.

How often is immediate used in that first chapter? Four? Six? More? Regardless of how you translate and interpret the original Greek words, immediate is abundant. It’s the rabbit of adjectives.

And here’s another “immediate” discovery from my Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance: Mark averages more than one use of “immediate” for every chapter in the Gospel. That’s nearly nonsensical data, other than to confirm Mark’s affection for . . .

Immediate. Now. At once. On the spot. Lickety-split. Right away.

As a point of comparison Matthew employed “immediate” five times. Total! But Mark was all about urgent faith. The Kingdom of God is near! The Realm of Love is here! The extraordinary beckons!

My wife claims she was ready for me to ask again about marriage mere days after my spontaneous mountain outburst. And yet it took months for me to act. What would Rev. King have said if someone, daring to predict the future, suggested an African-American would become president less than five decades after his “Dream” speech? So soon? Or, justice long delayed?

I resent immediate. It is a tease.

Thorns seem sudden in roses. Not blossoms. My wonderful nine-year old puppy Hannah never gets on our furniture. But it took endless months of “No!” “No!” “No!” to convince her to remain floor bound. Last July I started sending out samples of a novel I’d written to literary agents. Yesterday, seven months later, another rejection arrived from that first batch of inquiries.

Immediate? Mark claimed the immediacy of God’s spirit, the immediacy of a disciple’s life-changing decision, the immediacy of a fever departing and health returning. Urgency colors every chapter. Faith flourishes.

It isn’t so for me. The movement of faith seems more glacial than torrential, a marathon instead of a sprint, a slowly-developing rose and not a sharp thorn.

And yet, wasn’t Mark right?

The Realm of Love is always now. Too often my selfishness and stubbornness prevent my eyes and ears from seeing and hearing. I bet you too. I bet you resist change. I bet you think you are right regardless of the facts. I bet you, like me, are clever at diverting your seeing and only selectively hearing.

Immediately Mark keeps repeating. We are dense and foolish and I am thankful that one Gospel writer, unlike all the others, demanded our attention about God’s gifts before us . . .

Immediate. Now. At once. On the spot. Lickety-split. Right away.

Maybe I won’t immediately do something extraordinary with my faith. But—right now—let me resist diverting my eyes and keep them wide open to world before me. According to a recent Christian Century (1/13/09), novelist Marilynne Robinson was asked if she’s ever had a religious awakening. “No,” she responded, “a mystical experience would be wasted on me. Ordinary things have always seemed luminous to me.”

Immediate. All is luminous. Right before my eyes and ears.

in Peace,

Larry