Life at the Fringes--March 3, 2020

Life at the Fringes--March 3, 2020

"When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized Jesus, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed." [Mark 6:53-56]

There's a fragment of a poem by Warsan Shire, a Somali-British poet, that's been stuck in my mind lately. Her words haunt me like a ghost, but maybe I need the visitation of this particular spirit.

She writes in the second half of her poem, "What They Did Yesterday Afternoon," these words:

"i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.

later that night

i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
everywhere
everywhere

everywhere."

I've been thinking lately about how Jesus goes to the places where it hurts... which is to say, as the poem reminds us, he goes everywhere.  

He doesn't set up a base in one place and then wait for people to come to him.  He doesn't seem only to care about the people who are near to him, who are like him, or who fit a particular demographic profile.  He doesn't post office hours and then expect others to come find him.  He goes out to the places where it hurts and to the people at the fringes of things--the people in villages and cities and farms, to people who were sick and dying and desperate, and his mere presence brought them to life.  All of 'em, as the gospel writer tells it.

It seems that these days we struggle with Selective Caring Syndrome--we donate to the causes that are in the headlines, we identify on social media with the crises that get attention, and we get excited about causes that celebrities or talking heads on TV tell us to focus on.  But even at that, there are wounds and hurts all around the globe, and in the backwaters of our own communities, and under the neighbors' roof, too, that we all just allow ourselves to ignore.  While people are buying up masks out of fear of the Coronavirus here (even though experts say that it's better to just wash your hands thoroughly than to just wear a mask), I notice that I've been ignoring the less-well-known story of an outbreak of fighting in Idlib provice in Syria, where women and children are hiding in caves and barricading themselves in ruins to avoid being caught in the airstrikes between bigger world powers.  It's easy to forget about those folks, or to treat their stories like they are unimportant, because they are only on the fringes of my awareness.  It's easy to get riled up about the things the talking heads on your favorite news channel tell you to get worried and panicked over, but it takes more effort to remember that there are families in my town who slept in cars last night because they had no place to stay... and there are teenagers near where you live who have been kicked out of their houses by families who told them they were unacceptable... and there are folks a lot closer than we'd care to admit who are addicted to opiods but are too afraid to tell anyone or get help.

The world hurts everywhere, but we have a way of focusing only in on the fashionable causes, or the faces that look like mine, or the people I have deemed sufficiently moral or worthy enough to merit my attention.  Not Jesus.  Jesus goes where it hurts--he goes everywhere.

I know it can be exhausting to keep on top of all the suffering in the world at large.  I know it can feel like an impossible task to keep working up the compassion to keep caring, to keep paying attention, to not turn away.  But that doesn't give us permission not to even try to love those who are in places of pain.  All too often we spend our limited energy looking for excuses for why we don't have to care about the folks on the fringes of our awareness rather than using it at least to make a difference for someone.  

Jesus both challenges me to keep going beyond my comfort zone and comforts me with the assurance that he keeps on going to every corner of creation that is hurting.  I can't do it all, and indeed, maybe I can only make a small difference to bring life to people right around me... but Jesus reaches further and wider than my best efforts.  Villages, cities, and farms, among the forgotten and the fringe, the sick and the sorrowful.  Everywhere... everywhere... everywhere.

That also means, of course, that if you and I want to join Jesus in his work of bringing life to those who suffer, we can do it exactly where we are and find him already at work, ready for us to stand alongside him so that all may be made well.

Let's go.  He's waiting to be found at the edge of your awareness.

Lord Jesus, bring us to life where we need it, and lead us to see those whom you love at the fringes of society, so that we can be a part of your work to bring life everywhere.