Today’s Gospel story is a weird one; not really in terms of content, but in terms of what’s missing. You see, we find ourselves only 17 verses (and one beheading) after Jesus’ hometown rejection and his sending the disciples out two-by-two.
There has been A LOT going on in this chapter of Mark’s gospel 
account. In this morning’s reading, we get a small chunk of one story – the twelve have seemingly found their way back to Jesus to tell him about what they’ve accomplished; then he sends them into the desert for a siesta, but they get waylaid by a crowd of shepherd-less people-sheep. And then there’s a big gap before we get another chunk of a separate story about a boat trip and more crowds and more healing.
“Mind the gap!” say the signs and announcements in Tube stations all across London. And we’d do well to mind the gap here, too, because Jesus and his motley crew manage to feed a multitude with five loaves and two fish AND Jesus walks on water, too. While those are both significant, for me, the most notable missing piece that falls between the verses in this passage is from v.45-46: just after feeding the 5000—“Immediately, Jesus made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After saying farewell to them, he went up on the mountain to pray.” So not only does Jesus insist on a desert respite for the disciples, he requires solitude and prayer, as well.
I don’t know about you, but I’m a big fan of self-care. Merriam-Webster officially added that term to the dictionary five years ago, actually; though… their definition isn’t particularly helpful: “care for oneself.” For many of us, myself included, self-care consists of activities that are considered to be restorative and important for keeping us from biting anyone’s head off; and self-care practices can vary widely.
A few things that I routinely label as self-care include: taking a walk or going kayaking; getting ice cream at The Cup; buying something cute for myself or our house just because; taking a nap or going for a pedicure; getting out of the office to work in a coffee shop when I’m feeling creatively stuck; or even just holding down the couch (aka binge watching back-to-back-to-back episodes of Great British Baking Show or Queer Eye on Netflix).
All of that to say, I was initially pretty jazzed to see that Jesus was insistent on the disciples taking space for self-care (and did so himself, too). But as I’ve spent a bit more time with the text, I’m afraid his idea of spiritual self-care is rather different than most of my go-to practices. You see, after hearing about all the healing, restorative, justice-y work they’ve done, Jesus says to the disciples: “Come away. To a deserted place. All by yourselves. And rest awhile.”
He seems to recognize the possibility for burnout or compassion fatigue in his followers, so he orders them out to the wilderness for a rest. Y’all… he doesn’t send them to an Ancient Near Eastern spa or on a tropical vacation. He emphasizes solitude and points them toward the desert wilderness. And well, I just don’t know about that…
In the fourth and fifth century, some devout Christians known as the Desert Fathers and Mothers followed this pattern literally: they lived in the Egyptian desert as spiritual leaders and witnesses against the destructive powers of evil. As one author notes,
“Their flight to the desert was the way to escape a tempting conformity to the world” (Nouwen 4). One such person was Abba Arsenius: Arsenius was a Roman Senator who lived at the court of the emperor and served as a tutor to the princes. While still living in the palace, Abba Aresenius prays to God: “Lord, lead me in the way of salvation.” And a voice said to him, “Aresenius, flee from the world and you will be saved.” Having sailed secretly from Rome to Alexandria and withdrawn to the solitary life in the desert, Arsenius prayed again: “Lord, lead me in the way of salvation.” And again he heard a voice: “Arsenius, flee, be silent, and pray always, for these are the sources of salvation.” (From Henri Nouwen’s The Way of the Heart.)
Flee. Be silent. Pray always.
Flee the busy-ness of packed calendars and constant access to technology; flee the distractedness of multitasking and constant stimulation. Flee the “shoulds,” “oughts,” and “musts” that so often keep us from intentional living.
Be silent. Silence the expectations and insecurities, the relentless standards and isolating fears. Silence the need to do and to perform and to achieve. Just be. Silent.
Pray always. Seek the very mystery that is God and soak it in. Listen deeply for the still small voice that is both your own and God’s own. Experience your belovedness and your oneness with all creation in the presence of the Holy One. Let the Spirit open and move and transform your whole being. Pray always.
The other addition I’d like to make is simply this: BREATHE. We mustn’t forget to breathe. Not only because our brains and bodies need oxygen, but because that is how we fill ourselves with the Spirit. Ruah, remember? Spirit. Wind. Breath. In her book Love Warrior, author and activist, Glennon Doyle, shares a story about attending a breathing class.
Despite her initial “You’ve got to be kidding” reaction to the prospect of a breathing class, she goes. And the instructor, Liz, says something profound: “There are many institutions that don’t want you to know that all you have to do to be with God is breathe, because then everybody’d quit jumping through their hoops. Breathing is free, you know. Knowing is important. You have to be still to know.”
And as Glennon settles in and starts to breathe from her belly, something incredible happens. She writes, “I feel myself begin to float up and out of the room, into a night sky filled with stars. As I rise, my chest opens and expands until I lose all my boundaries and I can no longer tell where I end and the sky begins… I’m huge, endless, infinite. For the first time in my life, I feel the utter absence of fear. I am completely comfortable. I am at peace. And I understand that I am in the middle of a reunion with God.
“This is a returning of my soul to its source. My soul’s source is God, and God is love. I am, right at this moment, in perfect love with God and there is no fear in perfect love… I feel in awe of this God, this love – I am awed but not afraid. Fear is not possible here. Fear and God together will never make sense to me again. I am loved and have always been loved and will always, always be loved. I have never been separated from this love, I have only convinced myself that I was” (215-216).
Flee. Be silent. Pray always. Breathe. I think that’s at the heart of the desert retreat and spiritual self-care that Jesus had in mind. Along with the disciples, we’re called to the ministry of loving and caring for others, of making our communities more just and equitable. And in order to do that work our whole lives long, intentional rest and reflection must sustain us. Only in the quiet wilderness of ourselves can we discern the Spirit’s leading to the fullness of who we’re created to be and to the fullness of our potential to heal and transform the world.
Admittedly, it can be easy for me to feel overwhelmed, scared, and powerless in the face of all the world’s pain and injustice. It can also feel daunting to reimagine what church – our church – might become if we’re more faithfully using our resources to meet community needs and work our way to renewed vitality and financial sustainability. Whether it is out there in the big, wide world, or here closer to First Pres and home, there is so much work to be done. And in moments it feels like too much. But I’m reminded of a story I saw awhile back that I think of often: it’s about a precious (and hilarious) conversation a mom had with her 3 year-old daughter—
The little girls says she wants to be an astronaut. So the mom explains that she’ll have to study hard, go to college, learn a lot of science, and take a physical fitness test.
After hearing that, without missing a beat, the little girl shrugs and says, “It’s just four things.”
When we feel overwhelmed by the justice-seeking, healing, transformational work to be done, may we remember: “It’s just four things.” Flee. Be silent. Pray always. And breathe. What do you say, friends? We will, with God’s help. This day and each day. Amen.