To put our Gospel reading for this morning in context a little bit, immediately before this reading Jesus asked the disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” To which Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.” Which is the first, and I think only, time in the Gospel when the disciples actually seemed to understand just how amazing Jesus is. Mark chapter eight, verse twenty-nine is the moment of greatest clarity for the disciples, it is the point in the story when all of Jesus’ teachings finally clicked, when they finally grasped that Jesus is the promised salvation of God.
But then, today’s reading shows us, fresh off what seemed like understanding, actually the disciples still had no idea what Jesus was about. Because Peter called him the Messiah, he told them what being the Messiah meant, that he “must undergo great suffering… be killed, and after three days rise again.” And Peter was immediately like, no way. “Took him aside and began to rebuke him,” the Gospel said. And this word “rebuke,” that’s the same word Jesus used to cast out demons. Peter was literally trying to cast out the demon of salvation out of Jesus, clearly he missed the boat on this one.
Then Jesus rebuked Peter, but he didn’t stop there. “He called the crowd together with his disciples” and gave what may go down as one of the worst motivational speeches in history. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” Follow me, deny yourself, take up your cross, and lose your life. I’ve been watching a lot of Olympics recently, and I can’t imagine anyone’s coach using that as the pump up talk before the competition. From a purely numbers-gathering standpoint, this speech seems like it wouldn’t do it. I think part of the reason Peter rebuked Jesus was Peter knew Jesus was trying to start a movement, and he couldn’t see, “give up everything you love and die anyway” as the best rallying cry. Wouldn’t it have been better for the movement if Jesus had said, “If any want to become my followers, come along, and you will get everything you ever wanted, and we’ll overthrow Rome and everyone will get a new chariot and a nice sundial and it will always be sunny and never rain on your picnic.” Who wouldn’t sign up for that! Or, maybe, “If any want to become my followers, if you do these things in this specific way, and follow this set of expectations, then you’ll win. And if you don’t, you’ll lose. Your choice.” A little more work involved, but still a clear cause and effect path to success.
Peter was probably right; Jesus may have gotten more followers that way. But it wouldn’t have been honest, and in the end it wouldn’t have been helpful. Because you don’t have to be an attentive human for too long to notice that life does not have clear cause and effect paths. Following Jesus does not always mean puppies and rainbows and everybody gets a new chariot. And telling someone that it will leads to false hope, a hope that, when the real world interferes, all too easily falls apart. I honestly think giving someone false hope is worse than giving them no hope at all, because the fall from false hope is so much longer and more painful. Honesty, however painful, really is the best policy.
And honesty is exactly what Jesus delivered. Peter wanted Jesus to paint a rosier future, but Jesus was like, look, there will be suffering. You will suffer, I will suffer. But, and here’s the huge, important but, but resurrection follows. That, dear friends in Christ, is real hope. Real hope does not ignore or push away the reality of suffering, real hope looks suffering right in the face and says yes, you are real, yes, there is pain, but life always follows death. I’m guessing that Peter and the others listening to Jesus could not understand what he was talking about in that moment, when everything seemed to be going as planned. But I have to believe that at the toughest times in Peter’s life, as he worked to spread the good news of God throughout the world and as he eventually faced his own persecution and death, that this powerful promise of God’s presence in the midst of suffering helped sustain him for the work ahead. I have to believe that when Peter was at his darkest moments, he remembered Jesus’ words, he remembered Jesus’ death and resurrection, and he found the strength and the courage and the hope to persevere.
In a time such as this one, I find tremendous hope and strength in these words of Jesus. Peter’s naïve hopefulness is nice, but when I look around this world, I see a lot of suffering. Suffering that breaks my heart and makes me afraid. I see a lot of suffering and I feel powerless to do anything in the face of it. After all, what can one soft-spoken Lutheran pastor in small-city Michigan possibly accomplish? It is all too easy for me to set my mind on human accomplishments and feel defeated.
But in this passage, Jesus said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Now first off, I always want to give a caution when we read this text, because it has been used in ways that are harmful, and we need to acknowledge and unpack that. Notice Jesus said “take up their cross.” He didn’t say what cross they were to take up, he said their cross. Which means, the cross we bear is the cross we chose. You pick what cross you’re going to pick up. If someone tells you, “this is your cross to bear,” unless that person is actually Jesus, ignore them. Burdens are different, burdens get put on us whether we want them or not, and we know from Matthew that a) Jesus’ burden on us is light and b) Jesus helps us bear burdens. So if you feel like you’re carrying something you don’t want to be carrying but you can’t put it down, that’s a burden. But crosses, crosses we choose.
And before we get too metaphorical here, let’s name what a cross was. A cross was a method of torturous execution of political prisoners. Common criminals, thieves and the like, were not executed on a cross. Jesus was not killed because Rome considered him a common criminal, he was killed because Rome considered him a political threat, a challenge to their power. So a cross is not an individual decision. A cross is an active decision to engage in systemic change in order to bring about the kingdom of God. And when you engage the system, as Jesus well knew, the system fights back. Jesus literally chose the cross. And following in that example, Martin Luther was excommunicated from the church for preaching salvation by grace, Bonhoeffer died in a concentration camp for standing up to Hitler, Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot in Memphis for picking up the cross of civil rights. Now those are extreme examples of what it can look like to pick up ones cross and follow Jesus. Not all of us are called to a life of martyrdom and persecution to this degree. But all of us are called, in our own way, to bring about the kingdom of God, and what this passage promises us is 1) there will be risk involved, but 2) whatever risk we face, whatever suffering we endure, God is with us, and no suffering, no defeat, not even death, is the end of the story. The end is never the end, for “those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” Life follows death, hope follows despair, this is the weird and wonderful paradox of our faith. Reading this passage fills me with a powerful sense of hope that I can engage the suffering in the world, that the work that I engage in to bring about the kingdom does matter, because God is in that work. Suffering is not the absence of God, for God is present with in suffering, and the work we do in carrying our cross matters. That feels like some powerful good news in the midst of despair.
In the midst of the darkness of our time, one powerful example of hope I’ve seen has been the emerging youth movement led by the students in Parkland, Florida. That is a powerful example of the difference between a burden and a cross, and the power picking up a cross can have. Those kids did not choose the burden of being part of a school shooting. They did not choose the burden of losing seventeen of their friends and teachers. That is a burden laid on them, and I know that Jesus is with them carrying that burden. But what they have chosen is from that burden, to pick up the cross of advocacy, so that no other students have to bear the burden placed on them. They chose that work. Not all of them, of course. For some students, the burden of grief is still too great to bear, and for those students, I know Jesus is with them, helping them grieve. Because again, crosses are our choice. No one can pick your cross for you. But they are choices we make that liberate not only ourselves, but the world around us. Carrying the cross means being part of bringing about the kingdom of God.
The good news I hear this morning is an invitation to pick up a cross and engage in changing the structures of our world. The one caution I will give is, choose wisely, because you only get one. The bishop used to joke with us in preaching class, because new pastors always want to try all the things, to pick our battles carefully, because you only get one cross, and you don’t want to accidentally pick up the cross of, like, carpet colors. So choose wisely, but when you choose. When you find the thing that engages you, that captures your passion, that fills you with determination, then pick it up and go forth boldly. I don’t know what cross energizes you, if you are called to dismantling poverty or working towards safety and security for all of God’s children, or caring for God’s creation, or the list goes on. Whatever you pick, here’s what this passage promises. The work will not be easy. But is anything easy ever really worth it. The work will not be easy, but the reward will be great. Thanks be to God. Amen.
The extraordinary can look so ordinary
Monday, February 26, 2018
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Conversation Points for Mark 8:31-38
Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah is only part of the revelation of Jesus’ identity. Perkins writes that Peter’s confession will be misunderstood without this second section, that suffering too is central to Jesus’ identity. The Son of Man did not come just to exercise authority on earth, but also to suffer and die.
• The word “rebuke” used by Peter in v. 32 is the same word used to refer to silencing demons. It gives Peter’s words a stronger edge; he seems to feel Jesus is possessed with this claim of suffering.
• Even without the sharp language, critique of a teacher would be out of the question in ancient society. While harsh sounding to modern ears, Jesus’ response of calling Peter “Satan” is an appropriate response.
• Jesus used the term “Son of Man” in this passion prediction. Earlier, Jesus used “Son of Man” while in controversy with opponents over the authority to forgive sins (2:10) and to heal on the sabbath (2:28). In Daniel, the “son of man” ascends to the divine throne, providing a framework for Jesus’ resurrection and return as judge (Daniel 7:13-14, “As I watched in the night visions, I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed”). Given these two uses, proving Jesus’ authority now and in the future, the connection with the suffering Jesus at first seems out of place. But Daniel is apocalyptic literature, meaning the son of man in Daniel is connected to the suffering of Israel, and the promise that God is with them and has not forgotten them. This passion prediction connects Jesus’ suffering to the people’s suffering. Jesus as Son of Man did not identify with the righteous from a distance, but actually experiences what they experienced, including suffering. The eventual resurrection is what sets Jesus’ suffering apart from those of other prophets, and leads to his eventual return as judge.
• In v. 32a, Jesus makes these predictions “quite openly” indicating Jesus knows what will be coming. This makes Jesus’ enemies a part of the plan even as they are attempting to be hostile to him.
• The verses on the inevitability of suffering would have been comforting to Mark’s readers, who were actively experiencing persecution. They would have found it comforting that Jesus anticipated their struggles.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah is only part of the revelation of Jesus’ identity. Perkins writes that Peter’s confession will be misunderstood without this second section, that suffering too is central to Jesus’ identity. The Son of Man did not come just to exercise authority on earth, but also to suffer and die.
• The word “rebuke” used by Peter in v. 32 is the same word used to refer to silencing demons. It gives Peter’s words a stronger edge; he seems to feel Jesus is possessed with this claim of suffering.
• Even without the sharp language, critique of a teacher would be out of the question in ancient society. While harsh sounding to modern ears, Jesus’ response of calling Peter “Satan” is an appropriate response.
• Jesus used the term “Son of Man” in this passion prediction. Earlier, Jesus used “Son of Man” while in controversy with opponents over the authority to forgive sins (2:10) and to heal on the sabbath (2:28). In Daniel, the “son of man” ascends to the divine throne, providing a framework for Jesus’ resurrection and return as judge (Daniel 7:13-14, “As I watched in the night visions, I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed”). Given these two uses, proving Jesus’ authority now and in the future, the connection with the suffering Jesus at first seems out of place. But Daniel is apocalyptic literature, meaning the son of man in Daniel is connected to the suffering of Israel, and the promise that God is with them and has not forgotten them. This passion prediction connects Jesus’ suffering to the people’s suffering. Jesus as Son of Man did not identify with the righteous from a distance, but actually experiences what they experienced, including suffering. The eventual resurrection is what sets Jesus’ suffering apart from those of other prophets, and leads to his eventual return as judge.
• In v. 32a, Jesus makes these predictions “quite openly” indicating Jesus knows what will be coming. This makes Jesus’ enemies a part of the plan even as they are attempting to be hostile to him.
• The verses on the inevitability of suffering would have been comforting to Mark’s readers, who were actively experiencing persecution. They would have found it comforting that Jesus anticipated their struggles.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Monday, February 19, 2018
The Time IS Fulfilled: A Sermon on Mark 1:9-15
If the fact that every year the reading for the first Sunday in Lent is some version of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness wasn’t enough, Mark always feels a little harder for the preacher, as all but two verses in this reading we have already heard this year. That’s why this may sound so familiar; you heard it last month. Verses nine through eleven we read on Epiphany Sunday, which was January sixth. And verses fourteen and fifteen were just a few weeks ago, January twenty-first, when Jesus called the first disciples. What is a preacher to do, preaching the exact same text three times in two months! And it’s not like Mark is particularly wordy, and there’s a whole lot in this passage. I mean, the new part is barely two complete sentences.
At least, that’s what I thought on Wednesday morning, when David and I wrestled through a rather uninsightful Bible study. But here’s the thing that never fails to amaze me about scripture. Like Jacob wrestling with an angel at the ford of the Jabbok, if I struggle with a text long enough, I have, at least so far, always come away blessed. And this was the case again this week, when I came across something in a commentary I’d never noticed before.
As we’ve already noted, one of the main ways Mark differs from Matthew and Luke is its brevity. While both Matthew and Luke have these extended stories of exactly how the devil tempted Jesus, with Mark all we get is “he was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” We don’t know what he was doing while in the wilderness. Matthew and Luke say he was fasting, Mark just says he was there. And in Matthew and Luke, the temptation by Satan came at the end of the forty days, but Mark isn’t that specific. Was Jesus being tempted the whole time? Which doesn’t make a lot of sense. Considering how easily Jesus will banish demons throughout the rest of the Gospel, it doesn’t seem like it would take him a full forty days.
These are interesting questions, and we could spend a lot of time filling in details about how this scene unfolded. But just this once, I think this is a time when we are not supposed to use our scriptural imagination and fill in the details. I know I’m usually big on scriptural imagination, but I think here we ought to let the unknown be unknown, because it seems like Mark really doesn’t care about what exactly took place between Jesus and Satan while he was being tempted. Instead of focusing on this conflict between the kingdom of the world and the kingdom of God, Mark seems to be using this very brief scene to continue the revelation begun at Jesus’ baptism and show us a glimpse of what the kingdom of God looks like.
Our reading started with the great cosmic description of Jesus’ baptism, where the heavens were torn apart, the Spirit descended on him like a dove, and a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved.” The whole scene is just dripping with allusions to the prophetic promise of the coming reign of God. In case you missed it, the writer is yelling, this guy, this guy right here, he is the one the prophets foretold. All those times the prophets talked about the Son of God and the coming of the Spirit, here he is. This voice from heaven also satisfies one of the expectations of ancient biographical writing, that the hero would be identified by a sign of divine favor. Whether you’re Greek or Hebrew, the writer of Mark’s gospel wants to make sure you cannot miss the message.
And then immediately after this divine revelation, the very same Spirit who just descended on Jesus at his baptism drove him out into the wilderness. One of the perks of Mark is we get these two stories together, so we don’t miss that detail. It is the Spirit who drove Jesus into the wilderness. Not Satan, the Spirit of God. This wilderness testing is also important on two levels. First, and for us probably most obvious, the forty days is a clear allusion to Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness for forty years and Elijah in the wilderness for forty days. Yet again, the writer of Mark is not-so-subtly pointing out, in case you missed the prophetic hint when the heavens opened, Jesus is the prophetic promise. This temptation scene also fulfills another expectation of ancient biographical writing. After the hero is revealed, the hero has to be tested, thus from the voice of God to wilderness and temptation.
So that’s all interesting, but here’s the thing that’s really cool. Jesus is in the wilderness, and he’s being tempted by Satan and, wait for it, he was with the wild beasts. I’ve read this passage probably hundreds of times, and I always glossed over the wild beasts part, but here’s why that’s important. Think way back to the creation story. Genesis chapter two tells us that God created every animal and bird to be companions for humanity. But then, when Adam and Eve ate the fruit from the tree of good and evil, the relationship with animals and the earth was broken and God sent them out of the garden. And ever since then, wild animals have posed a danger to humanity, especially in such a harsh, desolate place as the Judean wilderness. But in this story, Jesus is described as being with the wild beasts. Not opposed to them, not protecting himself from them, but just with them. Even though this is way too anthropomorphic, and also the wrong region, I kind of imagine Jesus, a lion, and a wildebeest all hanging out together roasting s’mores around a campfire while they wait for the forty days to be up so Jesus can begin his ministry. The point is, for Jesus the conflict between humanity and creation that sin created simply doesn’t exist. Jesus in the wilderness with the wild beasts is a glimpse of what life was like before sin entered the world, what life will be like in the kingdom of God. When, as the prophet Isaiah wrote, “the wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the cow and the bear shall graze, and a little child shall lead them.” And there’s angels there too, another sign of Jesus’ relationship with God the father. Mark’s description of the wilderness is not one of fear, it is a glimpse of what paradise will be like, it is a foretaste of the day when, said Isaiah, “justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness abide in the fruit field. The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.”
And then, because it’s Mark, just as abruptly as we entered the wilderness, we’re out. Verse fourteen, “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God and saying, ‘the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near.’” And remember for Mark what the good news is. Remember the good news is not news as we think of it, it’s not words or a message. The good news is physical, tangible, tactile, it is something you can see, and touch, hear and smell and even taste. The good news is Jesus himself, the Word made flesh who dwells among us. So when Jesus says “the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near,” he meant that literally. The time is fulfilled because Jesus, the one foretold, is here. The kingdom of God has come near because the kingdom of God is Jesus, standing in our presence.
That, dear friends in Christ, is what we celebrate in Lent. These forty days are not about a time we have to endure in order to get to the good part on the other end. This is the good part, because the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near. Jesus is here. Every time we dip our hands in the font, every time we eat the bread and drink the wine, we are experiencing the kingdom of God in our midst.
You might notice the banner from epiphany is still up in the corner between the trees. I confess part of the reason it’s still up is I forgot to take it down before the noon Ash Wednesday service, I didn’t notice it until during the service, at which point it was too late. But, once I noticed it, I actually decided I liked it and decided to leave it up. Because I like the way the white and gold glitters through the bare trees, it felt like a reminder that God is with us in the wilderness, a foretaste of the coming resurrection.
Wilderness times can be frightening times. We have been raised to believe that the wild beasts are threats, that wilderness is risk. But Mark’s Gospel reminds us that Jesus is not telling us about the good news of God, he IS the good news of God. The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of heaven is not coming near, it has come, it is here already. In water and word, in bread and wine, the promised reign of peace is now. Thanks be to God. Amen.
At least, that’s what I thought on Wednesday morning, when David and I wrestled through a rather uninsightful Bible study. But here’s the thing that never fails to amaze me about scripture. Like Jacob wrestling with an angel at the ford of the Jabbok, if I struggle with a text long enough, I have, at least so far, always come away blessed. And this was the case again this week, when I came across something in a commentary I’d never noticed before.
As we’ve already noted, one of the main ways Mark differs from Matthew and Luke is its brevity. While both Matthew and Luke have these extended stories of exactly how the devil tempted Jesus, with Mark all we get is “he was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.” We don’t know what he was doing while in the wilderness. Matthew and Luke say he was fasting, Mark just says he was there. And in Matthew and Luke, the temptation by Satan came at the end of the forty days, but Mark isn’t that specific. Was Jesus being tempted the whole time? Which doesn’t make a lot of sense. Considering how easily Jesus will banish demons throughout the rest of the Gospel, it doesn’t seem like it would take him a full forty days.
These are interesting questions, and we could spend a lot of time filling in details about how this scene unfolded. But just this once, I think this is a time when we are not supposed to use our scriptural imagination and fill in the details. I know I’m usually big on scriptural imagination, but I think here we ought to let the unknown be unknown, because it seems like Mark really doesn’t care about what exactly took place between Jesus and Satan while he was being tempted. Instead of focusing on this conflict between the kingdom of the world and the kingdom of God, Mark seems to be using this very brief scene to continue the revelation begun at Jesus’ baptism and show us a glimpse of what the kingdom of God looks like.
Our reading started with the great cosmic description of Jesus’ baptism, where the heavens were torn apart, the Spirit descended on him like a dove, and a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved.” The whole scene is just dripping with allusions to the prophetic promise of the coming reign of God. In case you missed it, the writer is yelling, this guy, this guy right here, he is the one the prophets foretold. All those times the prophets talked about the Son of God and the coming of the Spirit, here he is. This voice from heaven also satisfies one of the expectations of ancient biographical writing, that the hero would be identified by a sign of divine favor. Whether you’re Greek or Hebrew, the writer of Mark’s gospel wants to make sure you cannot miss the message.
And then immediately after this divine revelation, the very same Spirit who just descended on Jesus at his baptism drove him out into the wilderness. One of the perks of Mark is we get these two stories together, so we don’t miss that detail. It is the Spirit who drove Jesus into the wilderness. Not Satan, the Spirit of God. This wilderness testing is also important on two levels. First, and for us probably most obvious, the forty days is a clear allusion to Moses and the Israelites in the wilderness for forty years and Elijah in the wilderness for forty days. Yet again, the writer of Mark is not-so-subtly pointing out, in case you missed the prophetic hint when the heavens opened, Jesus is the prophetic promise. This temptation scene also fulfills another expectation of ancient biographical writing. After the hero is revealed, the hero has to be tested, thus from the voice of God to wilderness and temptation.
So that’s all interesting, but here’s the thing that’s really cool. Jesus is in the wilderness, and he’s being tempted by Satan and, wait for it, he was with the wild beasts. I’ve read this passage probably hundreds of times, and I always glossed over the wild beasts part, but here’s why that’s important. Think way back to the creation story. Genesis chapter two tells us that God created every animal and bird to be companions for humanity. But then, when Adam and Eve ate the fruit from the tree of good and evil, the relationship with animals and the earth was broken and God sent them out of the garden. And ever since then, wild animals have posed a danger to humanity, especially in such a harsh, desolate place as the Judean wilderness. But in this story, Jesus is described as being with the wild beasts. Not opposed to them, not protecting himself from them, but just with them. Even though this is way too anthropomorphic, and also the wrong region, I kind of imagine Jesus, a lion, and a wildebeest all hanging out together roasting s’mores around a campfire while they wait for the forty days to be up so Jesus can begin his ministry. The point is, for Jesus the conflict between humanity and creation that sin created simply doesn’t exist. Jesus in the wilderness with the wild beasts is a glimpse of what life was like before sin entered the world, what life will be like in the kingdom of God. When, as the prophet Isaiah wrote, “the wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the cow and the bear shall graze, and a little child shall lead them.” And there’s angels there too, another sign of Jesus’ relationship with God the father. Mark’s description of the wilderness is not one of fear, it is a glimpse of what paradise will be like, it is a foretaste of the day when, said Isaiah, “justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness abide in the fruit field. The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever.”
And then, because it’s Mark, just as abruptly as we entered the wilderness, we’re out. Verse fourteen, “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God and saying, ‘the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near.’” And remember for Mark what the good news is. Remember the good news is not news as we think of it, it’s not words or a message. The good news is physical, tangible, tactile, it is something you can see, and touch, hear and smell and even taste. The good news is Jesus himself, the Word made flesh who dwells among us. So when Jesus says “the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near,” he meant that literally. The time is fulfilled because Jesus, the one foretold, is here. The kingdom of God has come near because the kingdom of God is Jesus, standing in our presence.
That, dear friends in Christ, is what we celebrate in Lent. These forty days are not about a time we have to endure in order to get to the good part on the other end. This is the good part, because the time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near. Jesus is here. Every time we dip our hands in the font, every time we eat the bread and drink the wine, we are experiencing the kingdom of God in our midst.
You might notice the banner from epiphany is still up in the corner between the trees. I confess part of the reason it’s still up is I forgot to take it down before the noon Ash Wednesday service, I didn’t notice it until during the service, at which point it was too late. But, once I noticed it, I actually decided I liked it and decided to leave it up. Because I like the way the white and gold glitters through the bare trees, it felt like a reminder that God is with us in the wilderness, a foretaste of the coming resurrection.
Wilderness times can be frightening times. We have been raised to believe that the wild beasts are threats, that wilderness is risk. But Mark’s Gospel reminds us that Jesus is not telling us about the good news of God, he IS the good news of God. The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of heaven is not coming near, it has come, it is here already. In water and word, in bread and wine, the promised reign of peace is now. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Conversation Points for Mark 1:9-15
Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, and the voice from heaven proclaiming him God’s Son, is central to Mark’s understanding of who Jesus is.
• Unlike in Matthew and Luke, in Mark only Jesus sees the heavens open and hears the divine voice. Mark’s readers get to see the identity of Jesus while his identity remains hidden from the characters in the narrative.
• The descent of the Spirit and the words of the voice echo the suffering servant who bring salvation in Isaiah 42:1 (“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations”) and the promise that the Spirit would bring salvation in Isaiah 63:11 (“Then they remembered the days of old, of Moses his servant. Where is the one who brought them up out of the sea with the shepherds of his flock? Where is the one who put within them his holy spirit”)
• The title “Son of God” derives from Psalm 2:7, where it referred to the Davidic kings(“I will tell of the decree of the LORD: He said to me, ‘You are my son; today I have begotten you”), and from Isaiah 44:2, where it referred to all the people of Israel (“Thus says the LORD who made you, who formed you in the womb and will help you: Do not fear, O Jacob my servant, Jeshurun whom I have chosen”).
• Various elements of apocalyptic symbolism, like the heavens opening, the descent of the Spirit, and the divine voice are meant to point to Jesus as the agent of God’s salvation. Jesus’ baptism is not revealing who Jesus is to Jesus, it is revealing who Jesus is to the reader. It demonstrates again Jesus as the fulfillment of the promises of the prophets.
• This episode also fulfills an expectation in ancient biographical writings that the hero be prepared for his mission through some sign of divine favor.
• The Spirit driving Jesus into the wilderness fulfills another necessary feature of ancient biographical writing, testing the hero.
• Though very short, a lot is packed into the two verses that make up the temptation in the wilderness in Mark’s Gospel. The obvious is the allusion to the Israelites forty years in the wilderness. Less obvious is the wild animals waiting on Jesus. One of the aspects of the fall narrative was Adam was no longer in relationship with wild animals, they became adversaries. But Jesus is not in conflict with nature, in Jesus wilderness is transformed into paradise. Examples of this are also found in Isaiah (Isaiah 11:6-9, “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea,” 32:16-20, “Then justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness abide in the fruitful field. The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust for ever. My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting-places. The forest will disappear completely, and the city will be utterly laid low. Happy will you be who sow beside every stream, who let the ox and the donkey range freely, “ 65:25, “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent—its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD”). Instead of focusing on the conflict between Jesus and Satan, Mark’s Gospel describes the characteristics of the coming kingdom of God.
• The presence of angels with Jesus in the wilderness is another sign of his relationship with God/the divine.
• After Jesus’ identity has been stated and he has been tested, his ministry can begin. The summary of his preaching in v. 14b-15 is a combination of John the Baptist’s preaching of repentance and the opening line from Mark, “the beginning of the good news.”
• “The time is fulfilled” (v. 15a) and “the kingdom of God has come near” (v. 15b) demonstrate that Jesus’ presence is the fulfillment, the kingdom of God is present in Jesus.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, and the voice from heaven proclaiming him God’s Son, is central to Mark’s understanding of who Jesus is.
• Unlike in Matthew and Luke, in Mark only Jesus sees the heavens open and hears the divine voice. Mark’s readers get to see the identity of Jesus while his identity remains hidden from the characters in the narrative.
• The descent of the Spirit and the words of the voice echo the suffering servant who bring salvation in Isaiah 42:1 (“Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations”) and the promise that the Spirit would bring salvation in Isaiah 63:11 (“Then they remembered the days of old, of Moses his servant. Where is the one who brought them up out of the sea with the shepherds of his flock? Where is the one who put within them his holy spirit”)
• The title “Son of God” derives from Psalm 2:7, where it referred to the Davidic kings(“I will tell of the decree of the LORD: He said to me, ‘You are my son; today I have begotten you”), and from Isaiah 44:2, where it referred to all the people of Israel (“Thus says the LORD who made you, who formed you in the womb and will help you: Do not fear, O Jacob my servant, Jeshurun whom I have chosen”).
• Various elements of apocalyptic symbolism, like the heavens opening, the descent of the Spirit, and the divine voice are meant to point to Jesus as the agent of God’s salvation. Jesus’ baptism is not revealing who Jesus is to Jesus, it is revealing who Jesus is to the reader. It demonstrates again Jesus as the fulfillment of the promises of the prophets.
• This episode also fulfills an expectation in ancient biographical writings that the hero be prepared for his mission through some sign of divine favor.
• The Spirit driving Jesus into the wilderness fulfills another necessary feature of ancient biographical writing, testing the hero.
• Though very short, a lot is packed into the two verses that make up the temptation in the wilderness in Mark’s Gospel. The obvious is the allusion to the Israelites forty years in the wilderness. Less obvious is the wild animals waiting on Jesus. One of the aspects of the fall narrative was Adam was no longer in relationship with wild animals, they became adversaries. But Jesus is not in conflict with nature, in Jesus wilderness is transformed into paradise. Examples of this are also found in Isaiah (Isaiah 11:6-9, “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall graze, their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea,” 32:16-20, “Then justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness abide in the fruitful field. The effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust for ever. My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting-places. The forest will disappear completely, and the city will be utterly laid low. Happy will you be who sow beside every stream, who let the ox and the donkey range freely, “ 65:25, “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent—its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD”). Instead of focusing on the conflict between Jesus and Satan, Mark’s Gospel describes the characteristics of the coming kingdom of God.
• The presence of angels with Jesus in the wilderness is another sign of his relationship with God/the divine.
• After Jesus’ identity has been stated and he has been tested, his ministry can begin. The summary of his preaching in v. 14b-15 is a combination of John the Baptist’s preaching of repentance and the opening line from Mark, “the beginning of the good news.”
• “The time is fulfilled” (v. 15a) and “the kingdom of God has come near” (v. 15b) demonstrate that Jesus’ presence is the fulfillment, the kingdom of God is present in Jesus.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
God's Love is not a Rom-Com: An Ash Wednsesday / Valentine's Day Sermon
So it’s Valentine’s Day today, and this tells you a lot about my friend list, but my Facebook page has been crowded this week with funny remarks about the overlap of Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday. A couple of my favorites include a picture of Ryan Gosling with the words “Roses are red, violets are blue, I can’t wait to contemplate my mortality with you.” And another one from a colleague that is a red background with pink and purple hearts and the words “What are you doing for Valentine’s Day? I’ll be working and telling people that they’re sinners.”
It is a weird overlap at first, this secular holiday of romance, chocolate and flowers, and this liturgical holiday of confession, repentance, ashes and mortality. The bishop remarked in his Take One video this week that someone even asked him if we could move Ash Wednesday this year because it didn’t fit with Valentine’s Day. This is, the bishop remarked, the epitome of hubris, to move this remembrance that we are dust, because it interferes with this commercialized celebration of romantic love.
If we think of this overlap of Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day as this clash of the secular and the sacred, of romance and death, then yes, today is pretty jarring. But if we think about love, then maybe there is no better way to reflect on the fact that we are loved by God than to celebrate Ash Wednesday on Valentine’s Day.
The dissonance in these holidays comes because we often make the same mistake with love that we make with grace, that is, we mistake love with niceness. Niceness is passive. Niceness allows things to go along as they were. Niceness is hearts and teddy bears and the fairy tale romantic comedy ending where everyone lives happily ever after and no one ever gets their feelings hurt, or struggles with anything, or has to take out the trash. Niceness is a temporary good feeling.
Love on the other hand, is active, it is transformative. We often describe love too as a feeling, but it isn’t. I tell couples in weddings, love is an action, it is a decision, it is a choice we make. Which means love does not always feel nice. Because love changes us, it forces us to look at how we might be contributing to whatever problem we are dealing with, and prods us to address the only part of the equation we have control over, our own part. Which means love can hurt, because love is honest.
On Ash Wednesday we remember that God is divine judge, and we are mortal and broken. It is not, at first read, a particularly uplifting day, with extended confession reminding that we are sinners, that we are mortal, that we are but dust and to dust we shall return. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not wallow in my own shortcomings. I’d rather we jumped right over the confession part and got right to the forgiving. I’d rather a day where God was like, yeah, here’s some bad stuff that happened, but it’s totally not your fault, and there’s definitely nothing you could have done about it. Or, it’s cool, don’t worry about it, forgive and forget, you know. I’d rather that God was a little bit nicer, and this extended confession, being forced to come face-to-face with my own shortcomings, well, it just doesn’t feel all that nice.
It doesn’t feel nice, and it isn’t nice, because God isn’t all that interested in niceness. Nice is passive, nice ignores problems in favor of comfort and ease, nice allows us to stay at a comfortable distance, not having to engaged in the real work of relationships. And God isn’t interested in niceness, God is interested in love. God is interested in the hard work of relationship building, of being with us in hard times, of transforming us to be more than we thought we were, to be the people God created us to be. The fact of the matter is, God loves us too much to be nice. God loves us too much to be passive. God loves us too much to let us be content with not being as full, devoted, committed, loving, and strong as we can be. Growing hurts, transforming hurts, taking a long, hard look at our own failings and realizing where we need to change, these are not fun activities. But the God who formed you, who knit you together, who knows you thoroughly, your every going out and coming in, that God loves you too much to walk away from this project of redemption that God has started in you. God is in this, God is fully committed to you. And God will not stop pursuing you until you are fully transformed in God’s own image, that in God you, as Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians, become the righteousness of God. That, my friends, is what love looks like.
And so I invite you this day, and throughout this whole season of Lent, to open yourself up to be loved by God, to be transformed by the love of God. Use the long confessions, the somber tones, to do some soul searching and see where God is calling you to attention. Because on Ash Wednesday we remember that God is the divine judge, and that we are but dust. And we also remember that from the dust of the earth God formed us in God’s own image. And the project that God created, that God called good at the birth of creation, God will not leave until we are fully transformed into God’s image. Yes, God is judge, and God judges with love. Amen.
It is a weird overlap at first, this secular holiday of romance, chocolate and flowers, and this liturgical holiday of confession, repentance, ashes and mortality. The bishop remarked in his Take One video this week that someone even asked him if we could move Ash Wednesday this year because it didn’t fit with Valentine’s Day. This is, the bishop remarked, the epitome of hubris, to move this remembrance that we are dust, because it interferes with this commercialized celebration of romantic love.
If we think of this overlap of Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day as this clash of the secular and the sacred, of romance and death, then yes, today is pretty jarring. But if we think about love, then maybe there is no better way to reflect on the fact that we are loved by God than to celebrate Ash Wednesday on Valentine’s Day.
The dissonance in these holidays comes because we often make the same mistake with love that we make with grace, that is, we mistake love with niceness. Niceness is passive. Niceness allows things to go along as they were. Niceness is hearts and teddy bears and the fairy tale romantic comedy ending where everyone lives happily ever after and no one ever gets their feelings hurt, or struggles with anything, or has to take out the trash. Niceness is a temporary good feeling.
Love on the other hand, is active, it is transformative. We often describe love too as a feeling, but it isn’t. I tell couples in weddings, love is an action, it is a decision, it is a choice we make. Which means love does not always feel nice. Because love changes us, it forces us to look at how we might be contributing to whatever problem we are dealing with, and prods us to address the only part of the equation we have control over, our own part. Which means love can hurt, because love is honest.
On Ash Wednesday we remember that God is divine judge, and we are mortal and broken. It is not, at first read, a particularly uplifting day, with extended confession reminding that we are sinners, that we are mortal, that we are but dust and to dust we shall return. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not wallow in my own shortcomings. I’d rather we jumped right over the confession part and got right to the forgiving. I’d rather a day where God was like, yeah, here’s some bad stuff that happened, but it’s totally not your fault, and there’s definitely nothing you could have done about it. Or, it’s cool, don’t worry about it, forgive and forget, you know. I’d rather that God was a little bit nicer, and this extended confession, being forced to come face-to-face with my own shortcomings, well, it just doesn’t feel all that nice.
It doesn’t feel nice, and it isn’t nice, because God isn’t all that interested in niceness. Nice is passive, nice ignores problems in favor of comfort and ease, nice allows us to stay at a comfortable distance, not having to engaged in the real work of relationships. And God isn’t interested in niceness, God is interested in love. God is interested in the hard work of relationship building, of being with us in hard times, of transforming us to be more than we thought we were, to be the people God created us to be. The fact of the matter is, God loves us too much to be nice. God loves us too much to be passive. God loves us too much to let us be content with not being as full, devoted, committed, loving, and strong as we can be. Growing hurts, transforming hurts, taking a long, hard look at our own failings and realizing where we need to change, these are not fun activities. But the God who formed you, who knit you together, who knows you thoroughly, your every going out and coming in, that God loves you too much to walk away from this project of redemption that God has started in you. God is in this, God is fully committed to you. And God will not stop pursuing you until you are fully transformed in God’s own image, that in God you, as Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians, become the righteousness of God. That, my friends, is what love looks like.
And so I invite you this day, and throughout this whole season of Lent, to open yourself up to be loved by God, to be transformed by the love of God. Use the long confessions, the somber tones, to do some soul searching and see where God is calling you to attention. Because on Ash Wednesday we remember that God is the divine judge, and that we are but dust. And we also remember that from the dust of the earth God formed us in God’s own image. And the project that God created, that God called good at the birth of creation, God will not leave until we are fully transformed into God’s image. Yes, God is judge, and God judges with love. Amen.
Monday, February 12, 2018
A Single Glorious Thing: A Transfiguration Sermon on Mark 9:2-9
Probably my favorite piece of writing of all time is the essay “High Tide in Tucson” by Barbara Kingsolver. The whole essay is amazing. But my very favorite section is from near the end. And I’m just going to read it to you, because I think it’s beautiful writing.
Kingsolver writes: “Every one of us is called upon, probably many times, to start a new life. A frightening diagnosis, a marriage, a move, loss of a job or a limb or a loved one, a graduation, bringing a new baby home: it’s impossible to think at first how this all will be possible… In my own worst seasons I’ve come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again.”
I love that second part especially. In my own worst times, this essay itself has been for me that single glorious thing, helping me to see more glorious things, a good meal with good friends, the freedom of running, the bittersweetness of the wine on my tongue at communion, until I too have again learned joy.
Kingsolver is a secular writer, and for her those moments of connection are about the experience of being human. But as a person of faith, for me they are more than that. I would label these single glorious things as in-breakings of the Kingdom of God. They are what the scripture calls “revelation,” where the veil between earth and heaven is pulled aside revealing to us the infinite. Celtic spirituality refers to these as “thin place” where the distance between heaven and earth is tissue paper thin.
What I think Kingsolver gets so completely right is this idea that these revelations, these thin places, these single glorious things, where the presence of God is revealed, these things are all around us. I won’t say they’re ordinary, for what, if you think about it, is ordinary about the radiant color of a geranium or the enthusiasm of a child, but they are present. The challenge, the trick, is to notice them, to name them for the miracles that they are, and to allow those miracles to change us. Which is hard. In a world full of competing ideas, images, and values, a world that seems convinced that the way to be noticed is to shout the loudest, these single glorious things, profound as they are, can easily be overlooked.
This is why the church gives us Lent. Lent got a bad reputation at some point of being the season of somber music, wallowing in our sinfulness, and giving up all the things we like. But that’s really more reflective of the medieval church than it is Lent itself. Because the reason the church started practicing Lent was as a time of intense preparation for people who were preparing to join the faith through baptism on Easter. It was meant as a time for putting aside all the external distractions of the world to focus solely on getting ready to be reborn in the waters of baptism. And what is more glorious, more life-giving, more hopeful, than being about to enter into the family of God. We could think of Lent as like cleaning out a room in your house to make space for someone you really really love to move in. It’s work, it’s a bit tedious, and it means you have to go through all of the stuff that has cluttered up over the years and get rid of some of it, and that can be painful. But there’s also a sense of joy to the work, because you know at the end of it, this really great thing is going to happen.
The other gift of the season of Lent is that it teaches us that those times when “it’s impossible to think at first how this all will be possible,” what Kingsolver calls our “worst seasons,” are just that, are seasons. And seasons have an end. Lent’s somber purple, always, always, always, gives way to Easter. Never once, in the whole two-thousand year history of Christianity, or in the infinitely longer span of the presence of God, has darkness not eventually given way to light. As resurrection people, we confess that new life always follows death, Lent gives us a chance to practice that promise.
But before the gift of work that is Lent, Jesus gives us another gift. And that gift is this morning, the Sunday of the Transfiguration. “Six days later,” the Gospel reading for this morning tells us, “Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain.” Just in this opening sentence, you may have felt a tinge of familiarity. Peter, James, and John are among Jesus’ earliest disciples; they were present for some of his greatest miracles. And “a high mountain” is reminiscent of Mt. Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments. Already, we get the sense something big is about to go down.
And sure enough, verse three: “And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses,” two huge heroes of the faith, “who were talking with Jesus.” And Peter, good old Peter, immediately was like, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Because, as verse seven said, he didn’t know what to say. I mean, what are you going to say when the person you’ve been traveling with is transfigured before you, and two legends from the past suddenly appear. Where else could you possibly go that would be better?
But as soon as Peter stopped talking, a cloud overshadowed them, a voice came from heaven, and “when they looked around, they saw no one with them anymore, but only Jesus. [And] as they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.”
The purpose of the Transfiguration, for Peter, James, and John, and also for us, was to give them a single glorious thing, so that they would know what to look for when the way got hard. Because from this mountain of revelation, Jesus and the disciples made their way to Jerusalem, and eventually to the cross. As people who know how the story turns out, we know to look for Jesus on the cross; we know that the cross is what glory looks like, is where love dwells. Bu the disciples, who were living the story, didn’t have that privilege. The transfiguration gave them a lens to look through, a hope to work towards, the promise that with them on this journey was God’s Son, the Beloved. For the disciples, the transfiguration was a foretaste of the coming feast, a glimpse of resurrection hope.
The other good news of this transfiguration story is that Jesus is on the move. As soon as Peter tried to stay in one place, a cloud overshadowed them and the story moved forward. What this reminds us is that God too is moving, in our lives, in our church, in our world. Sometimes it feels like things are moving too fast, but this story encourages us to view that as a good thing, because Jesus himself is moving, off the mountain, to the cross, to death, and on to resurrection. To be in motion, to be changing, however reluctant, places us in the good company of Peter, James, and John, now free to share what we have seen, since the Son of Man has already risen from the dead.
And so, let us go forward, dear sisters and brothers, into this new season. And as we go, let us be alert for the glorious things that are reflections of the transfiguration, foretastes of the resurrection, glimpses of the kingdom. Let preparation be your Lenten discipline. And whether you find that preparation in giving up chocolate, or taking up a new prayer practice, or calling your grandkid on the phone, I encourage you this season to find ways to practice joy, to prepare yourself for Easter.
Let me finish with a last quote from Barbara Kingsolver: “And onward full tilt we go, pitched and wrecked and absurdly resolute, driven in spite of everything to make good on a new shore. To be hopeful, to embrace one possibility after another—that is surely the basic instinct. Baser even than hate, the thing with teeth, which can be stilled with a tone of voice or stunned by beauty.” That is the great mystery of our faith, that a voice is more powerful than a fist, that an infant king outshown the kings of Rome, that peace has more strength than violence, that God’s love for us is most clearly known not in power, but in weakness. God did not destroy death through might, God destroyed death by giving up might, by slipping God’s divinity into frail human flesh, walking among us, and even being killed, and in that seeming display of weakness is contained the infinite power of love, for in that seeming display of weakness, we find life. Amen.
Quotes from:
Kingsolver, Barbara. “High Tide in Tucson.” High Tide in Tucson: Essays from Now or Never. New York, NY: HarperCollins Publishers, Inc., 1995.
Kingsolver writes: “Every one of us is called upon, probably many times, to start a new life. A frightening diagnosis, a marriage, a move, loss of a job or a limb or a loved one, a graduation, bringing a new baby home: it’s impossible to think at first how this all will be possible… In my own worst seasons I’ve come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again.”
I love that second part especially. In my own worst times, this essay itself has been for me that single glorious thing, helping me to see more glorious things, a good meal with good friends, the freedom of running, the bittersweetness of the wine on my tongue at communion, until I too have again learned joy.
Kingsolver is a secular writer, and for her those moments of connection are about the experience of being human. But as a person of faith, for me they are more than that. I would label these single glorious things as in-breakings of the Kingdom of God. They are what the scripture calls “revelation,” where the veil between earth and heaven is pulled aside revealing to us the infinite. Celtic spirituality refers to these as “thin place” where the distance between heaven and earth is tissue paper thin.
What I think Kingsolver gets so completely right is this idea that these revelations, these thin places, these single glorious things, where the presence of God is revealed, these things are all around us. I won’t say they’re ordinary, for what, if you think about it, is ordinary about the radiant color of a geranium or the enthusiasm of a child, but they are present. The challenge, the trick, is to notice them, to name them for the miracles that they are, and to allow those miracles to change us. Which is hard. In a world full of competing ideas, images, and values, a world that seems convinced that the way to be noticed is to shout the loudest, these single glorious things, profound as they are, can easily be overlooked.
This is why the church gives us Lent. Lent got a bad reputation at some point of being the season of somber music, wallowing in our sinfulness, and giving up all the things we like. But that’s really more reflective of the medieval church than it is Lent itself. Because the reason the church started practicing Lent was as a time of intense preparation for people who were preparing to join the faith through baptism on Easter. It was meant as a time for putting aside all the external distractions of the world to focus solely on getting ready to be reborn in the waters of baptism. And what is more glorious, more life-giving, more hopeful, than being about to enter into the family of God. We could think of Lent as like cleaning out a room in your house to make space for someone you really really love to move in. It’s work, it’s a bit tedious, and it means you have to go through all of the stuff that has cluttered up over the years and get rid of some of it, and that can be painful. But there’s also a sense of joy to the work, because you know at the end of it, this really great thing is going to happen.
The other gift of the season of Lent is that it teaches us that those times when “it’s impossible to think at first how this all will be possible,” what Kingsolver calls our “worst seasons,” are just that, are seasons. And seasons have an end. Lent’s somber purple, always, always, always, gives way to Easter. Never once, in the whole two-thousand year history of Christianity, or in the infinitely longer span of the presence of God, has darkness not eventually given way to light. As resurrection people, we confess that new life always follows death, Lent gives us a chance to practice that promise.
But before the gift of work that is Lent, Jesus gives us another gift. And that gift is this morning, the Sunday of the Transfiguration. “Six days later,” the Gospel reading for this morning tells us, “Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain.” Just in this opening sentence, you may have felt a tinge of familiarity. Peter, James, and John are among Jesus’ earliest disciples; they were present for some of his greatest miracles. And “a high mountain” is reminiscent of Mt. Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments. Already, we get the sense something big is about to go down.
And sure enough, verse three: “And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses,” two huge heroes of the faith, “who were talking with Jesus.” And Peter, good old Peter, immediately was like, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Because, as verse seven said, he didn’t know what to say. I mean, what are you going to say when the person you’ve been traveling with is transfigured before you, and two legends from the past suddenly appear. Where else could you possibly go that would be better?
But as soon as Peter stopped talking, a cloud overshadowed them, a voice came from heaven, and “when they looked around, they saw no one with them anymore, but only Jesus. [And] as they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.”
The purpose of the Transfiguration, for Peter, James, and John, and also for us, was to give them a single glorious thing, so that they would know what to look for when the way got hard. Because from this mountain of revelation, Jesus and the disciples made their way to Jerusalem, and eventually to the cross. As people who know how the story turns out, we know to look for Jesus on the cross; we know that the cross is what glory looks like, is where love dwells. Bu the disciples, who were living the story, didn’t have that privilege. The transfiguration gave them a lens to look through, a hope to work towards, the promise that with them on this journey was God’s Son, the Beloved. For the disciples, the transfiguration was a foretaste of the coming feast, a glimpse of resurrection hope.
The other good news of this transfiguration story is that Jesus is on the move. As soon as Peter tried to stay in one place, a cloud overshadowed them and the story moved forward. What this reminds us is that God too is moving, in our lives, in our church, in our world. Sometimes it feels like things are moving too fast, but this story encourages us to view that as a good thing, because Jesus himself is moving, off the mountain, to the cross, to death, and on to resurrection. To be in motion, to be changing, however reluctant, places us in the good company of Peter, James, and John, now free to share what we have seen, since the Son of Man has already risen from the dead.
And so, let us go forward, dear sisters and brothers, into this new season. And as we go, let us be alert for the glorious things that are reflections of the transfiguration, foretastes of the resurrection, glimpses of the kingdom. Let preparation be your Lenten discipline. And whether you find that preparation in giving up chocolate, or taking up a new prayer practice, or calling your grandkid on the phone, I encourage you this season to find ways to practice joy, to prepare yourself for Easter.
Let me finish with a last quote from Barbara Kingsolver: “And onward full tilt we go, pitched and wrecked and absurdly resolute, driven in spite of everything to make good on a new shore. To be hopeful, to embrace one possibility after another—that is surely the basic instinct. Baser even than hate, the thing with teeth, which can be stilled with a tone of voice or stunned by beauty.” That is the great mystery of our faith, that a voice is more powerful than a fist, that an infant king outshown the kings of Rome, that peace has more strength than violence, that God’s love for us is most clearly known not in power, but in weakness. God did not destroy death through might, God destroyed death by giving up might, by slipping God’s divinity into frail human flesh, walking among us, and even being killed, and in that seeming display of weakness is contained the infinite power of love, for in that seeming display of weakness, we find life. Amen.
Quotes from:
Kingsolver, Barbara. “High Tide in Tucson.” High Tide in Tucson: Essays from Now or Never. New York, NY: HarperCollins Publishers, Inc., 1995.
Conversation Points for Mark 9:2-9
Study Format:
1. Read passage aloud. What did you notice in the reading? What words or phrase caught your attention?
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• The transfiguration happened “six days later” (v.2), after the teaching at Caesarea Philippi (8:27-9:1), where Jesus asked the disciples, “who do you say that I am,” and Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.” That confession by Peter was the first time a human correctly identified Jesus (demons had been identifying him since the beginning). The transfiguration demonstrates the truth of Peter’s statement, that Jesus is, in fact the Messiah, God’s beloved son (8:29; 9:7; 14:61).
• The glory of the coming Son of Man Jesus spoke of in Caesarea Philippi (“when he [the Son of Man] comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels” 8:38) is anticipated by the shining white garments of Jesus at the transfiguration (9:3).
• Like in Caesarea Philippi, when the disciples finally correctly identified Jesus and got the same command he had given the disciples (“And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him” 8:30), the witnesses to the transfiguration get the same command, but with a twist (“he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead” 9:9). The disciples at this point did not know what Jesus was referring to, though he predicted his passion and resurrection at Caesarea Philippi (“Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again” 8:31).
• The three disciples present at the transfiguration, Peter, James, and John, are part of the first group of disciples he called. They were also present at the healing of Jairus’s daughter (5:37) and will be the ones he took into the Garden at Gethsemane with him (14:32). Despite being with Jesus at all these crucial moments, they didn’t seem to have any special insight into him. Peter already screwed up the whole “You are the Messiah” thing by arguing about the need for Jesus to suffer (8:33), James and John will have a fight about who’s the greatest (10:35-37), and all three will fall asleep in the garden (14:33-41).
• The appearance of Moses and Elijah demonstrated Jesus’ status above them. Moses and Elijah are two of three figures (Enoch was the third, Genesis 5:21-24) whom Jewish tradition believed were alive in heaven. Moses’ burial place was unknown (“Then Moses, the servant of the LORD, died there in the land of Moab, at the LORD’s command. He was buried in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-peor, but no one knows his burial place to this day” Deuteronomy 34:5-6), and Elijah was taken up in a chariot (2 Kings 2:1-11).
• Other Old Testament allusions include the dazzling white clothing of heavenly beings (“As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne; his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire” Daniel 7:9; “Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever” Daniel 12:3). The mountain, clouds, and divine voice echo God’s appearance to Moses on Mt. Sinai in Exodus 24:15-18.
• One of the primary purposes of this story seems to have been to demonstrate Peter’s continued lack of understanding, as demonstrated by his attempt to “make three dwellings.” Some scholars think this was a reference to the booths built for the Feast of Tabernacles (“You shall live in booths for seven days; all that are citizens in Israel shall live in booths, so that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God” Leviticus 23:42-43). Others think it was an attempt to replicate Moses’ tent of meeting (“Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, far off from the camp; he called it the tent of meeting. And everyone who sought the LORD would go out to the tent of meeting, which was outside the camp. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all the people would rise and stand, each of them, at the entrance of their tents and watch Moses until he had gone into the tent. When Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and the LORD would speak with Moses. When all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would rise and bow down, all of them, at the entrance of their tents. Thus the LORD used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend. Then he would return to the camp; but his young assistant, Joshua son of Nun, would not leave the tent” Exodus 33:7-11).
• The reader of Mark’s Gospel recognizes the voice from heaven in 9:7 (“Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!’”) as the same one that spoke at Jesus’ baptism in 1:11(“And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’”).
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
2. Read passage aloud a second time. What questions would you ask the text?
3. Read passage aloud a third time. What do you hear God calling you to do or be in response to this text?
Interesting Ideas to Consider:
• The transfiguration happened “six days later” (v.2), after the teaching at Caesarea Philippi (8:27-9:1), where Jesus asked the disciples, “who do you say that I am,” and Peter replied, “You are the Messiah.” That confession by Peter was the first time a human correctly identified Jesus (demons had been identifying him since the beginning). The transfiguration demonstrates the truth of Peter’s statement, that Jesus is, in fact the Messiah, God’s beloved son (8:29; 9:7; 14:61).
• The glory of the coming Son of Man Jesus spoke of in Caesarea Philippi (“when he [the Son of Man] comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels” 8:38) is anticipated by the shining white garments of Jesus at the transfiguration (9:3).
• Like in Caesarea Philippi, when the disciples finally correctly identified Jesus and got the same command he had given the disciples (“And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him” 8:30), the witnesses to the transfiguration get the same command, but with a twist (“he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead” 9:9). The disciples at this point did not know what Jesus was referring to, though he predicted his passion and resurrection at Caesarea Philippi (“Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again” 8:31).
• The three disciples present at the transfiguration, Peter, James, and John, are part of the first group of disciples he called. They were also present at the healing of Jairus’s daughter (5:37) and will be the ones he took into the Garden at Gethsemane with him (14:32). Despite being with Jesus at all these crucial moments, they didn’t seem to have any special insight into him. Peter already screwed up the whole “You are the Messiah” thing by arguing about the need for Jesus to suffer (8:33), James and John will have a fight about who’s the greatest (10:35-37), and all three will fall asleep in the garden (14:33-41).
• The appearance of Moses and Elijah demonstrated Jesus’ status above them. Moses and Elijah are two of three figures (Enoch was the third, Genesis 5:21-24) whom Jewish tradition believed were alive in heaven. Moses’ burial place was unknown (“Then Moses, the servant of the LORD, died there in the land of Moab, at the LORD’s command. He was buried in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-peor, but no one knows his burial place to this day” Deuteronomy 34:5-6), and Elijah was taken up in a chariot (2 Kings 2:1-11).
• Other Old Testament allusions include the dazzling white clothing of heavenly beings (“As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne; his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire” Daniel 7:9; “Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever” Daniel 12:3). The mountain, clouds, and divine voice echo God’s appearance to Moses on Mt. Sinai in Exodus 24:15-18.
• One of the primary purposes of this story seems to have been to demonstrate Peter’s continued lack of understanding, as demonstrated by his attempt to “make three dwellings.” Some scholars think this was a reference to the booths built for the Feast of Tabernacles (“You shall live in booths for seven days; all that are citizens in Israel shall live in booths, so that your generations may know that I made the people of Israel live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt: I am the LORD your God” Leviticus 23:42-43). Others think it was an attempt to replicate Moses’ tent of meeting (“Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, far off from the camp; he called it the tent of meeting. And everyone who sought the LORD would go out to the tent of meeting, which was outside the camp. Whenever Moses went out to the tent, all the people would rise and stand, each of them, at the entrance of their tents and watch Moses until he had gone into the tent. When Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and the LORD would speak with Moses. When all the people saw the pillar of cloud standing at the entrance of the tent, all the people would rise and bow down, all of them, at the entrance of their tents. Thus the LORD used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend. Then he would return to the camp; but his young assistant, Joshua son of Nun, would not leave the tent” Exodus 33:7-11).
• The reader of Mark’s Gospel recognizes the voice from heaven in 9:7 (“Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!’”) as the same one that spoke at Jesus’ baptism in 1:11(“And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’”).
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Monday, February 5, 2018
They Took Jesus Home: A Sermon on Mark 1:29-39
I struggle with healing stories in general and with this particular healing story especially. There is a bit of my own baggage in this, but my general struggle with healing stories is they are so fantastical I always worry I’m running the risk of setting people up for false hope. This is not a discount of the miraculous power of God, some people experience healing like Peter’s mother-in-law, and far be it for me to say God does not work in that way. The problem is that God does not often work in that way. Most people do not go from death’s door to full recovery in a matter of moments. For most of us, healing is incrementally slow. And sometimes healing does not look like how we might want it to look. If healing has to look like this, at best, we are setting ourselves up for disappointment. And this particular healing story is difficult because immediately upon being healed, Peter’s mother-in-law goes into the kitchen to serve them. Without even going into all the bad complementarian theology that has been built up around this story, that just seems exhausting! The Greek has hints of resurrection imagery in it, implying Jesus has basically raised this woman from the dead, can’t she just rest for a minute!
We’ll get to that, to how to make sense of the healing aspect of this text, and of the immediate call to service thing, but first in his Take One video this week, the Bishop pointed out something in this text I’d never noticed before, that got me thinking in a different way.
A few weeks ago, we heard the calling of the first disciples, how Jesus told Simon, Andrew, James, and John to follow him, and immediately they left their nets, they left their father in the boat, and they followed him. The calling of the first disciples always brings up the question, would we, do we, have the courage to leave everything behind and follow Jesus. And I pondered then, if leaving everything and following Jesus was maybe setting up too strong of an expectation. Here we see that my concern was well based. Because when Simon, Andrew, James, and John, dropped their nets, left their father in the boat and followed Jesus, notice where they went. First they went to the synagogue in their hometown. And then they went to Peter’s house. Friends, Peter took Jesus home with him. To his sick mother-in-law no less. And Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law. Jesus cared about his disciples’ families, about their lives, about the people they loved.
In the Redevelopment process, we talk a lot about what we are doing for our wider community. For the members of the Woman’s Co-op, for the Post neighborhood, for children and families who are not yet here. We talk about evangelizing outreach, social ministry, how we are setting up our building to be a church for the neighborhood. All of that is great stuff, it is in the model of Jesus, it is how Jesus wants us to act and to be and to move through the world. It is, as we heard in the last couple verses of the text this morning, what Jesus “came out to do,” to go throughout the world teaching the good news and casting out demons. We know from reading the Bible that Jesus cared deeply about the poor, the lonely, the hurting. But what this Gospel story reminds us is that Jesus also cares about you, about your family, your home, your church, about the people and places and things you love. I want to assure you, as your pastor, that in this redevelopment process, as we try to change our congregation to meet the needs of our next phase of ministry that you who are here already are not forgotten. As we talk about how we are going to outreach to our community, as you read on our annual report about how we are trying to be a church for our neighborhood, about all of these things that we are doing for others, that Jesus also loves, cares for, is concerned about, you.
So that’s the first piece of good news in this story. Yes, Jesus cares about all of the people that the world has forgotten. Yes Jesus cares about refugees, people in poverty, people who are ill, people who are hurting. Yes, Jesus is very concerned about all of the people out there in the world who need to know him. Jesus is also just as concerned about all of the people in here. Jesus’ care is not limited, it is not the case that if it is focused out there it cannot be also focused in here. Your value in the eyes of Jesus is not based on how well you serve others; it’s based on Jesus’ love for you.
Now here’s the second piece of good news. When Peter’s mother-in-law got up from her sick bed and began to serve them, that wasn’t about getting up and going immediately to work. It was about reclaiming her place of honor in the family. In the first century, serving such a distinguished guest as a religious teacher would have been a place of honor reserved for the matriarch of the family. This is not so different than today. In my family, long after my grandmother was no longer able to prepare the big family meals, we continued to hold them at her house, using all of her recipes, as a show of respect for her role as the head of our family. In healing Peter’s mother-in-law and restoring her to her place of service, what Jesus did was more than just restore her physical health; he gave her back her purpose and her identity. Peter’s mother-in-law didn’t jump to service because Jesus needed serving, she jumped to service because serving was who she was, it was how she made meaning in the world. As a congregation of worker bees, this is certainly something you all can relate to.
Peter’s mother-in-law’s service of Jesus demonstrates that healing is not just about being physically healed; it is about being restored to our purpose and identity. The other dynamic in this story, is that our purpose and our identity can change over time, so the challenge is how well we are able to shift with the change, to adapt to the new places and purposes we are being called to. Peter, Andrew, James, and John once found their purpose in fishing, now they were learning to find it in following Jesus. How we used to do church in this place worked in that time, now we are being called to find a new purpose for a new time. We still have purpose; it just looks different than it used to.
I’ve maybe told you this story before, but one of the best lessons I learned about how our purpose can change came from a man at my home congregation in Washington, DC. Like many of you, this guy had been a do-er. He was a successful businessman, had served on various boards of the congregation, had been a founding member of Lifeline Partnership, which is an organization that supports people with developmental disability, he’d done it all. The grass never grew under this guy’s feet. And then he got sick. Some weird, mystery illness. He lost his appetite, started losing weight, didn’t have energy, couldn’t move around easily. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, and it was looking pretty bleak. Then, in what can really be described only as a miracle, he discovered that the only food he could keep down was bing cherries. And what’s more, he discovered that when he ate bing cherries, he could eat other foods as well. He got his appetite back, and his strength, and he began to get better.
As he began to recover, he began to reevaluate his purpose. Because he was never going to be able to do all the things he had done before. He didn’t have the energy for all the board and committees; he still couldn’t do the things he’d done. At first, he told me, he was pretty frustrated by it, pretty depressed. But then, one day, he took home the prayer list from the bulletin, and he committed himself to pray for everyone on it. It felt small at first, just praying at home by himself, when he was used to being out and about. But, he found the practice changed him. It connected him more deeply to the members of his congregation, and helped him connect others. In fact, I heard this story on one of my very first Sundays at First Trinity, and I count it, and him, as reasons that church became my home congregation and had such a deep impact on my life. That congregation, and his prayer, fueled me to do the work I did every day helping homeless and low-income women in Washington, DC. It helped others lobby for immigration reform, teach in inner city schools, provide support for people with developmental disability, expand low-income housing, offer job training, and many other classic social outreach ministries. His ministry in our congregation made ministry outside of our congregation possible. Because he cared for us, we were able to care for others. Healing for him was about finding his purpose again. A different purpose, but one just as important and just as powerful.
This morning we will end our worship together with a service of healing. Anyone who wants to will be invited to come to the table to be anointed with oil and receive a prayer for healing. I don’t know what kind of healing you may be in need of this morning as you come forward. What I know is you will be healed. In fact, I know that you are already healed. That this prayer of healing is really a reminder of what God has already done in you. Because you are beloved of God, you are valuable, you are important, and you have a purpose. My prayer for you is that you may come to know the purpose for which God has already prepared you for. Amen.
We’ll get to that, to how to make sense of the healing aspect of this text, and of the immediate call to service thing, but first in his Take One video this week, the Bishop pointed out something in this text I’d never noticed before, that got me thinking in a different way.
A few weeks ago, we heard the calling of the first disciples, how Jesus told Simon, Andrew, James, and John to follow him, and immediately they left their nets, they left their father in the boat, and they followed him. The calling of the first disciples always brings up the question, would we, do we, have the courage to leave everything behind and follow Jesus. And I pondered then, if leaving everything and following Jesus was maybe setting up too strong of an expectation. Here we see that my concern was well based. Because when Simon, Andrew, James, and John, dropped their nets, left their father in the boat and followed Jesus, notice where they went. First they went to the synagogue in their hometown. And then they went to Peter’s house. Friends, Peter took Jesus home with him. To his sick mother-in-law no less. And Jesus healed Peter’s mother-in-law. Jesus cared about his disciples’ families, about their lives, about the people they loved.
In the Redevelopment process, we talk a lot about what we are doing for our wider community. For the members of the Woman’s Co-op, for the Post neighborhood, for children and families who are not yet here. We talk about evangelizing outreach, social ministry, how we are setting up our building to be a church for the neighborhood. All of that is great stuff, it is in the model of Jesus, it is how Jesus wants us to act and to be and to move through the world. It is, as we heard in the last couple verses of the text this morning, what Jesus “came out to do,” to go throughout the world teaching the good news and casting out demons. We know from reading the Bible that Jesus cared deeply about the poor, the lonely, the hurting. But what this Gospel story reminds us is that Jesus also cares about you, about your family, your home, your church, about the people and places and things you love. I want to assure you, as your pastor, that in this redevelopment process, as we try to change our congregation to meet the needs of our next phase of ministry that you who are here already are not forgotten. As we talk about how we are going to outreach to our community, as you read on our annual report about how we are trying to be a church for our neighborhood, about all of these things that we are doing for others, that Jesus also loves, cares for, is concerned about, you.
So that’s the first piece of good news in this story. Yes, Jesus cares about all of the people that the world has forgotten. Yes Jesus cares about refugees, people in poverty, people who are ill, people who are hurting. Yes, Jesus is very concerned about all of the people out there in the world who need to know him. Jesus is also just as concerned about all of the people in here. Jesus’ care is not limited, it is not the case that if it is focused out there it cannot be also focused in here. Your value in the eyes of Jesus is not based on how well you serve others; it’s based on Jesus’ love for you.
Now here’s the second piece of good news. When Peter’s mother-in-law got up from her sick bed and began to serve them, that wasn’t about getting up and going immediately to work. It was about reclaiming her place of honor in the family. In the first century, serving such a distinguished guest as a religious teacher would have been a place of honor reserved for the matriarch of the family. This is not so different than today. In my family, long after my grandmother was no longer able to prepare the big family meals, we continued to hold them at her house, using all of her recipes, as a show of respect for her role as the head of our family. In healing Peter’s mother-in-law and restoring her to her place of service, what Jesus did was more than just restore her physical health; he gave her back her purpose and her identity. Peter’s mother-in-law didn’t jump to service because Jesus needed serving, she jumped to service because serving was who she was, it was how she made meaning in the world. As a congregation of worker bees, this is certainly something you all can relate to.
Peter’s mother-in-law’s service of Jesus demonstrates that healing is not just about being physically healed; it is about being restored to our purpose and identity. The other dynamic in this story, is that our purpose and our identity can change over time, so the challenge is how well we are able to shift with the change, to adapt to the new places and purposes we are being called to. Peter, Andrew, James, and John once found their purpose in fishing, now they were learning to find it in following Jesus. How we used to do church in this place worked in that time, now we are being called to find a new purpose for a new time. We still have purpose; it just looks different than it used to.
I’ve maybe told you this story before, but one of the best lessons I learned about how our purpose can change came from a man at my home congregation in Washington, DC. Like many of you, this guy had been a do-er. He was a successful businessman, had served on various boards of the congregation, had been a founding member of Lifeline Partnership, which is an organization that supports people with developmental disability, he’d done it all. The grass never grew under this guy’s feet. And then he got sick. Some weird, mystery illness. He lost his appetite, started losing weight, didn’t have energy, couldn’t move around easily. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him, and it was looking pretty bleak. Then, in what can really be described only as a miracle, he discovered that the only food he could keep down was bing cherries. And what’s more, he discovered that when he ate bing cherries, he could eat other foods as well. He got his appetite back, and his strength, and he began to get better.
As he began to recover, he began to reevaluate his purpose. Because he was never going to be able to do all the things he had done before. He didn’t have the energy for all the board and committees; he still couldn’t do the things he’d done. At first, he told me, he was pretty frustrated by it, pretty depressed. But then, one day, he took home the prayer list from the bulletin, and he committed himself to pray for everyone on it. It felt small at first, just praying at home by himself, when he was used to being out and about. But, he found the practice changed him. It connected him more deeply to the members of his congregation, and helped him connect others. In fact, I heard this story on one of my very first Sundays at First Trinity, and I count it, and him, as reasons that church became my home congregation and had such a deep impact on my life. That congregation, and his prayer, fueled me to do the work I did every day helping homeless and low-income women in Washington, DC. It helped others lobby for immigration reform, teach in inner city schools, provide support for people with developmental disability, expand low-income housing, offer job training, and many other classic social outreach ministries. His ministry in our congregation made ministry outside of our congregation possible. Because he cared for us, we were able to care for others. Healing for him was about finding his purpose again. A different purpose, but one just as important and just as powerful.
This morning we will end our worship together with a service of healing. Anyone who wants to will be invited to come to the table to be anointed with oil and receive a prayer for healing. I don’t know what kind of healing you may be in need of this morning as you come forward. What I know is you will be healed. In fact, I know that you are already healed. That this prayer of healing is really a reminder of what God has already done in you. Because you are beloved of God, you are valuable, you are important, and you have a purpose. My prayer for you is that you may come to know the purpose for which God has already prepared you for. Amen.
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