In Praise of Interruptions

“Moved with pity, Jesus stretch out his hand

and touched him…Immediately, the leprosy left him.” 

Mark 1:41a,42a 

In every life there are moments that we don’t expect. We have our plan for the day or for a lifetime and set out only to discover bumpy stretches when events unfold in a way we had not anticipated. The verse from Mark’s gospel we just read tells of that kind of moment.   

It comes from a day when a leper sought Jesus’ healing touch. In response, our text says the Lord was “moved with pity” and healed the man on the spot. Your first reaction to that event might be the same as mine; namely that it reveals once again the compassion of Jesus. Yet some commentaries suggest Jesus wasn’t thrilled by the encounter. Instead, the line we heard as “moved with pity” is translated in other ancient manuscripts to say he was “moved with anger.”  

Certainly, we don’t know if that was the case or not, but scholars who raise that question go on to speculate why Jesus might have been upset. Some have suggested he wasn’t angry with the man, but with the rules of that culture which required a person with leprosy to be cut off from loved ones. Others have wondered when the man says to Jesus “If you choose, you can make me clean” if there was a sarcastic tone in his words. We don’t know, but if Jesus was upset then perhaps it was because the man had interrupted him. That the leper had caused Jesus to set aside what he had planned to do in that moment and thus had to decide how he would respond.

Such a possibility resonates with me because it is so human. Sometimes, the interruption is major for us; losing a job or facing a health crisis. In other occasions, the hitch is less dramatic; you finally have a chance to read and your child crawls up into your lap or you sit down for dinner and the phone rings. When that happens, do we hold fast to our plan or do we stop and reconsider?  If your response is anything like mine, then I suspect your track record in such moments is mixed.    

As all of us can be so focused on the task at hand, on completing what we have set out to do, that we miss a potentially significant interruption. That reality explains why Jesus’ response from that day long ago is so helpful.  For even if he was angry when the leper asked to be healed, even if he was annoyed thinking that this person could have waited, Jesus responded. In other words, even if God’s son was bothered, he still helped. 

That’s an important word for our interruptions, too, as sometimes what is most critical is not to get things done on our schedule, but to respond to the need before us. Sometimes what God would have us do is not what we planned, but to respond to the human concern that has suddenly appeared. And sometimes the break from our plan is not actually an interruption at all; not an event which takes us away from what we need to do but moves us toward it.  

One Sunday early in my first pastorate, the worship service came to the Prayers of the People. The custom there was to begin with silence for individual prayers and then for me to offer aloud a prayer on their behalf. On this morning, I waited the customary time for quiet and had just opened my mouth to speak when from the back of the room, a man began to sing. I think it was a spiritual. That unexpected soloist offered it skillfully and after my initial surprise, I began to enjoy his gift. When he neared the end of the verse, I thought he was finished, so with my eyes still closed I again opened my mouth to start the prayer. He wasn’t through, though, and followed that start with a second verse and then with a third one.  

At that point, the novelty of his singing had ended for me and I began to fear he would never stop. When he did draw the piece to a close, I quickly offered the prayer–probably in record time–and had no more pauses for silence the rest of the service!  

I learned later that he was the son-in-law of a member who was in town visiting, but didn’t know that at the time or that he was planning to sing. Maybe he didn’t know it either and responded in the moment, but the congregation didn’t know that I didn’t know. Since I was still relatively new there, they weren’t sure if I had planted the soloist either which meant that when the service ended and persons began to talk with me about the solo their first comments were guarded. It was only when I told them I had been surprised, too, that the truth poured out.  

As one person said when the man began to sing, it scared her so much she dropped her hymnal. Another commented that the man had started out singing so slowly and in such a deep voice that she thought he was ill. Still another replied that we should have the man sing again on another Sunday, but in good Presbyterian fashion, to schedule him in advance. It all made for lively conversation, but I did notice that the next week there was a kind of eagerness in the sanctuary as persons gathered wondering what would happen! 

Certainly not all the interruptions are as significant as the pleading of a leper long ago. Many of the unexpected events for us are far more trivial and can be distracting, if not annoying. The scene between Jesus and a man seeking healing does not suggest we are never to keep to our plans and always let someone else dictate our day. 

Yet it does affirm there will be times when the best thing we can do is set aside our plans for the obvious need that has appeared before us and experience the blessing of what that moment can bring. Perhaps discovering it was just what we and the other needed, even if it wasn’t on our schedule.

Your timing is always perfect, Gracious One, while mine is not.  Help me to remain open to interruptions this day, considering those moments may actually be your plan for me. Amen.