A couple years ago when my cousin’s son was born, my brother and I went to visit them in the hospital. When we got in their room, Shane was fussing a bit and the way the bassinet was positioned, my cousin couldn’t reach him. So she asked me if I would pick him up for her. And of course, as a twelve-hour-old infant, that change of scenery distracted him enough for him to immediately calm down. So I held him a bit, marveling at this tiny fragile human.
Which was great, except I hadn’t taken my coat off yet and it was pretty warm in the room. And sometimes when I get too warm, I can get a little light-headed. So, not wanting to pass out while holding a twelve-hour old infant, I asked my brother if he wanted to take a turn and hold the baby. David had been leaning forward looking at Shane, but immediately when I said this he put his hands up as if to block me, took several steps back, leaned back, and then sort of stretched his neck forward and said, “no thanks, I’m good. I can see him just fine from here.”
Tonight is the night that we celebrate the birth of our infant savior, and I don’t know about all of you, but after the last year, I don’t know if I feel like I’m ready to hold a baby tonight. It has been a difficult year of mixed messages and tangled thoughts. Concepts I’d long considered universal suddenly seem not only to be up for discussion, but to be legitimate grounds for disagreement. I find myself watching my words more and more, but not in ways that feel helpful or constructive. And when I have spoken, I can look back at a string of miscommunications and mixed messages, of things I should have said and didn’t, or did say and ought not to have. Times my feelings have been hurt, and when I have, intentionally or unintentionally, hurt others.
I’ve been talking on a personal scale, but this feels like a problem on a global scale, and part of my anguish with this year is a sense of powerlessness in the face of it. This does not seem like a place or a time where I feel confident welcoming something so tiny and frail as an infant.
I heard an interview last year, where a pastor in Texas talked about how he didn’t want “some meek and mild leader or somebody who’s going to turn the other cheek.” In fairness, he was talking about political leaders, but I found myself both cringing from and relating to his words. Cringing, because for those of you who know me, it’s fairly obvious that this pastor and I have basically opposite theological and political opinions. But relating to, because I understood his desire to have someone just show up on the scene and fix things. Like the psalmist, I have found myself crying out to God this year, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come.” Come and fix this broken world, come and mend us broken people, come and solve all the hurt and the pain and the anger and bring us into your kingdom of peace. I want God to show up in this world and set things right. Make the bad people stop being bad, keep the oppressed people from being hurt, and just generally get this straight. The problem with this is as simple as recognizing that the pastor from Texas and I probably have very different ideas of what making things right might look like. So whose version of right would the meanest, toughest leader come to bring? And is it possible that both of our views of God’s kingdom have places where we’re right, and places where we’re not. The problem with might-based solutions is that they don’t have space for ambiguity. Might-based solutions by nature establish winners and losers, heroes and villains. If I am right, then you, by virtue of your disagreement, have to be wrong. But in the actual world we live in, it is rarely, I would say even never that clear. In our actual lives, there are no true heroes and villains. The greatest hero has some selfish edge, the worst villain has at some point been a victim. The world is not good and evil, it is varying shades of grey, and the might that we long for does not have space for such nuance to grow.
But tonight we celebrate that God did not come in might, God came in the way that is the only way for the best parts of our broken selves to thrive. God came in weakness and vulnerability and love. Tonight we celebrate that when the Creator of the Universe slipped into skin to enter into relationship with us, the skin God slipped into was the paper-thin almost translucent skin of a tiny baby. Not as an independent and powerful ruler did God come, but in the most dependent form of a refugee baby. God came in this way because might may bring submission, but only love can bring conversion. Only by creating a space of unconditional grace can we put aside our defenses and truly flourish.
It seems so counter-intuitive for God to have come in this way, but if we look back in our sacred scriptures, we can see that in weakness and vulnerability is always the way that God comes and transforms. God came to Abraham in travelers in need of shelter. God showed to Moses the cries of God’s people. Isaiah spoke of peace confirmed by the birth of a child who would be king. And it is in love and grace and ordinary miracles that God still comes to us today. In the waters of baptism, in the bread broken and wine poured of communion, our creative, redeeming, loving and infinite God slips again into tangible, finite form and comes to us today. Even as we look around a hurting world and long for God to come, we can take hope in the promise that God has already come, and is still here. In this place, in our lives, in this gathered community, we experience the promise of God made flesh among us. So tonight, when you gather around the altar, when you extend your hands to take the bread, to drink the wine, may you hear the soft voice of God whispering to you, “here I am, take your turn, hold the baby.” Amen.
The extraordinary can look so ordinary
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
Conversation Points for Isaiah 9:2-7; Psalm 96; and Titus 2:11-14
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:
Isaiah 9:2-7
• Isaiah is a complicated book to place in one specific time frame, because it is really a compilation of many sources, from as early as 1000 BCE to as late as the fourth or fifth centuries BCE. Isaiah 9:2-7 comes mainly from the time following the Syro-Ephraimitic War of 734 BCE. Prior to this time, Assyria (the massive empire to Israel’s north) had been engaged in internal conflicts that had kept them occupied for the early part of the 8th Century. When Tigleth-pileser III ursurped the throne, he brought order to Assyria and refocused them on external conquest, leading to Assyria’s conquest of Syria and the northern country of Israel in the Syro-Epraimitic War. Most of Isaiah 1-39 is oracles against the southern country of Judah, warning them that if they do not repent and straighten up their lives, they will go the same way as Israel.
• A bit of history. During the reign of Tigleth-pileser III, Ahaz was the king of Judah. Both Isaiah and 2 Kings present Ahaz as faithless and fearful because in the face of Assyrian aggression, Ahaz chose to become a vassal of the Assyrian empire rather than join with the kings of Damascus and Samaria to oppose Assyrian rule. After Ahaz’s death in 715 BCE, his son Hezekiah ascended the throne. Hezekiah is viewed by the Deuteronomistic histories (Joshua, Judges, 1 and 2 Samuel, and 1 and 2 Kings) as one of the most important kings of Judah. Per 2 Kings 18:5, “there was no one like him among all the kings of Judah after him, or among those who were before him.” Part of the reason for Hezekiah’s importance was his faithfulness to the Deuteronomistic interpretation of proper religious life. From 2 Kings 18:3-4, 6, “[Hezekiah] did what was right in the sight of the Lord just as his ancestor David had done. He removed the high places, broke down the pillars, and cut down the sacred pole [places of idol worship]. He broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until those days the people of Israel had made offerings to it; it was called Nehustan… He held fast to the Lord; he did not depart from following him but kept the commandments that the Lord had commanded Moses.” The other reason for Hezekiah’s importance was unlike his father, Hezekiah asserted Judah’s independence from Assyria. He was a daring nationalist who exploited the influx of refugees into Judah from the fall of Israel to the north to reestablish a central Judean monarchy.
• There are two major theories on the purpose for this poem. Some scholars see it as part of the coronation ritual for King Hezekiah. The more likely purpose is to announce the birth of a new crown prince, possibly still Hezekiah. Even with the impending threat of Assyria, the birth of a new descendant of David is a sign of God’s continued presence with and deliverance of God’s people.
• The poem structure is that of a hymn of thanksgiving. The first section outlines the trouble and what God has done (v. 2-3), and the second offers praise by listing the reasons for celebration (4-7). The first two reasons given for celebration are release from military and political danger. The third is also political, the birth of a new king who will bring a reign of justice and righteousness.
• The tense of this poem is the past (ex. “the people who walked,” “have seen,” “saw,” “you have shattered,” “a child has been born,” etc.). The only switch is in v. 7, “the zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” This poem is about reflecting on what God has done in the past as a basis for confidence in what God will do in the future.
• Per Dr. Tucker: “The central message of this text is that the birth and its celebration are signs of hope, grounds for confidence in God’s future… In Isaiah’s view, God’s will for justice, righteousness, and peace is made flesh in the weakest of human creatures, a little baby.”
• The nature of a king’s reign, as described in Isaiah, is one of perpetual peace founded on justice and righteousness.
Psalm 96
• Psalm 96 is part of a collection of enthronement psalms, psalms that exalt God as King and emphasize God’s reign. As is typical for an enthronement psalm, Psalm 96 is structured as a song of praise, starting with an invitation to praise, and following with reasons for praise.
• One potential use for Psalm 96 was that it might have been sung in the Temple at the annual New Year festival (1 Chr 16:23-33 includes most of Psalm 96 as part of the praises accompanying David moving the ark of Jerusalem).
Titus 2:11-14
• Paul (or someone writing from the tradition of Paul) wrote this letter to Titus to encourage and guide him as he established a Christian church in Crete. The beginning of the letter deals mostly with basic ethics of behavior for church leaders. They are strict and can read as harsh to a modern audience. Parts of Titus have regularly been used to subjugate women and support slavery. Even dealing with the historical context, Titus seems to be very much about what we are to do instead of what God has done. It is very works oriented.
• So why read Titus? Because of these verses. These verses provide the theological framework to hang the behavior lesson. “Simply put, Christians should live in right relationship with each other and society because God’s grace, or gift (charis), has already appeared in the person of Jesus Christ, bringing salvation for all (understanding soterios, “bringing salvation,” in verse 11 as linked with soter, “Savior,” in verse 13; see also Titus 3:4).”
• There is action expected of believers, but v. 14 makes clear that action is not in order to earn salvation, but as a response to what God has done. “Christians are to be zealous for good deeds as a living, grateful expression of who they already are by divine grace: part of God’s chosen people.”
Works Sourced:
McCann Jr., J. Clinton. “The Book of Psalms.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IV. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1996.
Pietz, Jenny. “Commentary on Titus 2:1-11.” Working Preacher. < http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3511>. Accessed: 20 December 2017.
Tucker, Gene M. “The Book of Isaiah 1-39.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VI. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2001.
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:
Isaiah 9:2-7
• Isaiah is a complicated book to place in one specific time frame, because it is really a compilation of many sources, from as early as 1000 BCE to as late as the fourth or fifth centuries BCE. Isaiah 9:2-7 comes mainly from the time following the Syro-Ephraimitic War of 734 BCE. Prior to this time, Assyria (the massive empire to Israel’s north) had been engaged in internal conflicts that had kept them occupied for the early part of the 8th Century. When Tigleth-pileser III ursurped the throne, he brought order to Assyria and refocused them on external conquest, leading to Assyria’s conquest of Syria and the northern country of Israel in the Syro-Epraimitic War. Most of Isaiah 1-39 is oracles against the southern country of Judah, warning them that if they do not repent and straighten up their lives, they will go the same way as Israel.
• A bit of history. During the reign of Tigleth-pileser III, Ahaz was the king of Judah. Both Isaiah and 2 Kings present Ahaz as faithless and fearful because in the face of Assyrian aggression, Ahaz chose to become a vassal of the Assyrian empire rather than join with the kings of Damascus and Samaria to oppose Assyrian rule. After Ahaz’s death in 715 BCE, his son Hezekiah ascended the throne. Hezekiah is viewed by the Deuteronomistic histories (Joshua, Judges, 1 and 2 Samuel, and 1 and 2 Kings) as one of the most important kings of Judah. Per 2 Kings 18:5, “there was no one like him among all the kings of Judah after him, or among those who were before him.” Part of the reason for Hezekiah’s importance was his faithfulness to the Deuteronomistic interpretation of proper religious life. From 2 Kings 18:3-4, 6, “[Hezekiah] did what was right in the sight of the Lord just as his ancestor David had done. He removed the high places, broke down the pillars, and cut down the sacred pole [places of idol worship]. He broke in pieces the bronze serpent that Moses had made, for until those days the people of Israel had made offerings to it; it was called Nehustan… He held fast to the Lord; he did not depart from following him but kept the commandments that the Lord had commanded Moses.” The other reason for Hezekiah’s importance was unlike his father, Hezekiah asserted Judah’s independence from Assyria. He was a daring nationalist who exploited the influx of refugees into Judah from the fall of Israel to the north to reestablish a central Judean monarchy.
• There are two major theories on the purpose for this poem. Some scholars see it as part of the coronation ritual for King Hezekiah. The more likely purpose is to announce the birth of a new crown prince, possibly still Hezekiah. Even with the impending threat of Assyria, the birth of a new descendant of David is a sign of God’s continued presence with and deliverance of God’s people.
• The poem structure is that of a hymn of thanksgiving. The first section outlines the trouble and what God has done (v. 2-3), and the second offers praise by listing the reasons for celebration (4-7). The first two reasons given for celebration are release from military and political danger. The third is also political, the birth of a new king who will bring a reign of justice and righteousness.
• The tense of this poem is the past (ex. “the people who walked,” “have seen,” “saw,” “you have shattered,” “a child has been born,” etc.). The only switch is in v. 7, “the zeal of the Lord of hosts will do this.” This poem is about reflecting on what God has done in the past as a basis for confidence in what God will do in the future.
• Per Dr. Tucker: “The central message of this text is that the birth and its celebration are signs of hope, grounds for confidence in God’s future… In Isaiah’s view, God’s will for justice, righteousness, and peace is made flesh in the weakest of human creatures, a little baby.”
• The nature of a king’s reign, as described in Isaiah, is one of perpetual peace founded on justice and righteousness.
Psalm 96
• Psalm 96 is part of a collection of enthronement psalms, psalms that exalt God as King and emphasize God’s reign. As is typical for an enthronement psalm, Psalm 96 is structured as a song of praise, starting with an invitation to praise, and following with reasons for praise.
• One potential use for Psalm 96 was that it might have been sung in the Temple at the annual New Year festival (1 Chr 16:23-33 includes most of Psalm 96 as part of the praises accompanying David moving the ark of Jerusalem).
Titus 2:11-14
• Paul (or someone writing from the tradition of Paul) wrote this letter to Titus to encourage and guide him as he established a Christian church in Crete. The beginning of the letter deals mostly with basic ethics of behavior for church leaders. They are strict and can read as harsh to a modern audience. Parts of Titus have regularly been used to subjugate women and support slavery. Even dealing with the historical context, Titus seems to be very much about what we are to do instead of what God has done. It is very works oriented.
• So why read Titus? Because of these verses. These verses provide the theological framework to hang the behavior lesson. “Simply put, Christians should live in right relationship with each other and society because God’s grace, or gift (charis), has already appeared in the person of Jesus Christ, bringing salvation for all (understanding soterios, “bringing salvation,” in verse 11 as linked with soter, “Savior,” in verse 13; see also Titus 3:4).”
• There is action expected of believers, but v. 14 makes clear that action is not in order to earn salvation, but as a response to what God has done. “Christians are to be zealous for good deeds as a living, grateful expression of who they already are by divine grace: part of God’s chosen people.”
Works Sourced:
McCann Jr., J. Clinton. “The Book of Psalms.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IV. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1996.
Pietz, Jenny. “Commentary on Titus 2:1-11.” Working Preacher. < http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=3511>. Accessed: 20 December 2017.
Tucker, Gene M. “The Book of Isaiah 1-39.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VI. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2001.
Monday, December 18, 2017
Bearing Witness: A Sermon on John 1:6-8, 19-28
Of all the descriptions of John the Baptist in scripture, the version in John’s Gospel is my favorite. Yes, it lacks the colorful imagery of the crazy guy in the wilderness, wearing camel skins and eating bugs. But what it loses in memorability, it gains in relatability. The John the Baptist of the synoptic Gospels is someone who calls me to attention, but not someone I feel called to be. But this John, whose job is to testify to the light, that is a calling I can place myself in.
The testimony of John begins with the Jews sending an envoy out to the Jordan River to figure out what this John guy is up to. It’s important to note here, as it’s always important to remember when we’re reading the Gospel of John, that the word translated as “the Jews” almost always refers to the religious elite. The Greek word is hoi juidois, which literally translates “the Judeans.” When the Gospel says “the Jews,” it is not referring to a particular religious group, and it is certainly not referring to what we understand today to be the modern Jewish faith. “The Jews” in this story are the religious and political leadership whose power is being questioned by John’s message about a coming Lord. The conflict in this story is not between two competing religious ideas. This is a conflict about power, plain and simple. Who has it, who wants it, and who is afraid they might be losing it.
So this envoy came to John in the wilderness and asked him, “Who are you?” Remember, this is a story about power, so the answer the envoy was looking for was something they could use to accuse John of inciting rebellion. But instead of answering their question, John “confessed and did not deny, but confessed.” Which, as an aside, I always find to be a lot of build up, especially as John then doesn’t answer their question at all, but instead tells them who he is not, “I am not the Messiah.” Now Messiah in and of itself is a political term. The Hebrew word “messiah” refers to someone who was anointed by God to be king of Israel. Which, in the time of Rome’s occupation of Israel, was a direct challenge to the ruling authority. But more than just a political statement, there is a theological statement imbedded in this. The phrase “I am” is an important refrain in the Gospel of John. Jesus will say, “I am the bread of life,” “I am the gate for the sheep,” “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” All of the “I am” statements help to build Jesus identity as the Son of God, by calling on the name God used in the Exodus story, when a voice from the burning bush told Moses, “I am who I am… Tell them that I am has sent you.” In contrast to the religious leaders’ thirst for power, John was very clear about his lack of it. In the question of who he was, all that mattered to John was who he was not, he was not the Word made flesh, he was not the Light, he was merely the one sent to testify to the light.
I use the word “merely” because it feels like John was deliberately clarifying his lower status to Jesus. But while John makes clear he was not the Messiah, we should not hear that as a lessening of John’s importance. Because John had a job in the bringing forth of the Kingdom of God, and it was a very important job, and John did it very well. John’s job was to testify, John’s job was to give witness. John testified to the truth that he knew, that the one coming after him was the one to be alert for, the one who was the Lamb of God, the salvation of the world.
What I find so powerful about John the Baptist’s witness is that it is a task in the salvation story that I can not only relate to, but understand and see my place in. So often when we read scripture, the stories call us to be like Jesus, to model our discipleship after Jesus. And don’t get me wrong, that’s right. As followers of Christ, we are supposed to follow Christ, to mold our lives after Christ’s example. But from a purely practical sense, Jesus did a whole lot of things that are just simply outside of my skill set. There are a lot of hungry people in the world, and with five loaves and two fish I cannot feed them. There are a lot of hurting people in the world, and as many times as I might lay hands on them, I cannot heal them. There is plenty of water in the world, and unless it is frozen, I cannot walk on it. I try my best to model my life after the life and teachings of Jesus, to care for the sick, to heal the hurting, to visit the imprisoned, and to love the outcast. But at the end of the day, I’m human, and my best efforts fall short. When I try to set Jesus as the bar for success, all I get is discouraged.
But when I get discouraged at how little I seem to be able to accomplish, it is John the Baptist who gives me hope. John reminds us that we do not need to save the world, because the world already has a savior. The world already has a savior, and the savior is not us. It’s Jesus. Our job is not to save the world, our job is to testify, is to give witness to the one who already has. We give witness through our actions, when we feed the hungry, cloth the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned, yes, but the value of those actions are not based on the actions themselves, they are based on the power those simple actions have to reveal the presence of Christ.
We witness in our actions, we also witness in our words, when we, like Jesus, give voice to those around us whose voices have been silenced, when we lift up the oppressed, and use our words and our witness to shed light in places of darkness. It may seem insignificant, like not enough, to speak out, but what John the Baptist promises is that our words and our witness have power. This year Time Magazine awarded its person of the year to a group they’re calling “the Silence Breakers,” the women who spoke out the violence they had experienced by men in power and in doing so unveiled the open secret of a culture violence fueled by misogyny and power. I say “open secret,” because when one in four women experience sexual assault, that this is a rampant problem in our society should not be a surprise. I have to tell you that ever since the person of the year announcement, I’ve been thinking differently about the text from the first Sunday of Advent, the one that talked about how the stars would be falling. I’ve always thought about the stars falling as frightening, but what if it’s not? What if the stars were falling because the stars were threats, and their fall made space for the Kingdom of Heaven to be revealed? I have been harassed and threatened because of my gender, and it causes me to move differently through the world, and I would guess that I am not alone in this room in making that statement. And while we have a long way to go, that sexual assault and harassment are on the table right now as viable topics for conversation makes me feel safer as a part of this society. And let’s be abundantly clear this is an issue of power, when I talk to the men in my life who I love and who love me, those men make it abundantly clear that insinuating violence against another human being is not locker room talk, and it’s not boys will be boys, it is abuse. It makes me feel safer now that the people who have used their power to keep others in fear are being called to account. Grace is not always peaceful, grace is the powerful convicting presence of God to bring down the mighty and lift up the lowly. The Kingdom of God has no space for those who prey on the weakness of others, and true grace is found in the courage to hold others accountable for their actions. Evil grows in secrecy and it can only be dismantled by being brought into view.
There is, of course, a danger to our witness. That is the flip side of the John the Baptist story. The word translated as “witness” or “testimony” is the Greek word martyria, where we get the English word “martyr.” Witnessing, testifying, to the truth can be dangerous. Think about John the Baptist, he was very clear that he was not the Messiah, not Elijah, not the Prophet, and he still ended up being killed on account of his witness.
There is danger, but when I look around the world I see the power of our witness outweighing the risk. Just in this building I think about how the Woman’s Co-op has given voice to poor and marginalized women in our community, and how those women have used their voices to change our community for the better. Street court, improved lighting and neighborhood safety, a real and concerted effort to bring job training and opportunities into neighborhood, attention to childcare, and the need for help navigating the justice system are just a few of the successes that their witness has brought to Battle Creek. Their witness and their courage to speak has made and is making a better community for us all. They are not the savior, but they are witnessing to their value as children of God, and their witness brings light to the darkness and reveals God’s presence in this place. Last Sunday Laurie shared how Faith Lutheran in Okemos is bearing witness by opening their church to be a family for refugee children, and we can bear witness by sharing their story, by sharing this conviction that children fleeing certain death are precious to God, and we as a denomination serve God by caring for and about them. It feels like a small action, six children against a huge crisis. But it is a witness to who God is and to how we believe God acts in the world. And, dear people of God, as John the Baptist assured us, it matters. It matters to God and it matters to the world. So in these waning days of Advent, as we await the coming of our infant savior, let us not be afraid to bear witness to the way God is already present in the world, and to the places where we still need God to be. Because the promise of this Gospel text is that wherever we bear witness, God is there. Amen.
The testimony of John begins with the Jews sending an envoy out to the Jordan River to figure out what this John guy is up to. It’s important to note here, as it’s always important to remember when we’re reading the Gospel of John, that the word translated as “the Jews” almost always refers to the religious elite. The Greek word is hoi juidois, which literally translates “the Judeans.” When the Gospel says “the Jews,” it is not referring to a particular religious group, and it is certainly not referring to what we understand today to be the modern Jewish faith. “The Jews” in this story are the religious and political leadership whose power is being questioned by John’s message about a coming Lord. The conflict in this story is not between two competing religious ideas. This is a conflict about power, plain and simple. Who has it, who wants it, and who is afraid they might be losing it.
So this envoy came to John in the wilderness and asked him, “Who are you?” Remember, this is a story about power, so the answer the envoy was looking for was something they could use to accuse John of inciting rebellion. But instead of answering their question, John “confessed and did not deny, but confessed.” Which, as an aside, I always find to be a lot of build up, especially as John then doesn’t answer their question at all, but instead tells them who he is not, “I am not the Messiah.” Now Messiah in and of itself is a political term. The Hebrew word “messiah” refers to someone who was anointed by God to be king of Israel. Which, in the time of Rome’s occupation of Israel, was a direct challenge to the ruling authority. But more than just a political statement, there is a theological statement imbedded in this. The phrase “I am” is an important refrain in the Gospel of John. Jesus will say, “I am the bread of life,” “I am the gate for the sheep,” “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” All of the “I am” statements help to build Jesus identity as the Son of God, by calling on the name God used in the Exodus story, when a voice from the burning bush told Moses, “I am who I am… Tell them that I am has sent you.” In contrast to the religious leaders’ thirst for power, John was very clear about his lack of it. In the question of who he was, all that mattered to John was who he was not, he was not the Word made flesh, he was not the Light, he was merely the one sent to testify to the light.
I use the word “merely” because it feels like John was deliberately clarifying his lower status to Jesus. But while John makes clear he was not the Messiah, we should not hear that as a lessening of John’s importance. Because John had a job in the bringing forth of the Kingdom of God, and it was a very important job, and John did it very well. John’s job was to testify, John’s job was to give witness. John testified to the truth that he knew, that the one coming after him was the one to be alert for, the one who was the Lamb of God, the salvation of the world.
What I find so powerful about John the Baptist’s witness is that it is a task in the salvation story that I can not only relate to, but understand and see my place in. So often when we read scripture, the stories call us to be like Jesus, to model our discipleship after Jesus. And don’t get me wrong, that’s right. As followers of Christ, we are supposed to follow Christ, to mold our lives after Christ’s example. But from a purely practical sense, Jesus did a whole lot of things that are just simply outside of my skill set. There are a lot of hungry people in the world, and with five loaves and two fish I cannot feed them. There are a lot of hurting people in the world, and as many times as I might lay hands on them, I cannot heal them. There is plenty of water in the world, and unless it is frozen, I cannot walk on it. I try my best to model my life after the life and teachings of Jesus, to care for the sick, to heal the hurting, to visit the imprisoned, and to love the outcast. But at the end of the day, I’m human, and my best efforts fall short. When I try to set Jesus as the bar for success, all I get is discouraged.
But when I get discouraged at how little I seem to be able to accomplish, it is John the Baptist who gives me hope. John reminds us that we do not need to save the world, because the world already has a savior. The world already has a savior, and the savior is not us. It’s Jesus. Our job is not to save the world, our job is to testify, is to give witness to the one who already has. We give witness through our actions, when we feed the hungry, cloth the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned, yes, but the value of those actions are not based on the actions themselves, they are based on the power those simple actions have to reveal the presence of Christ.
We witness in our actions, we also witness in our words, when we, like Jesus, give voice to those around us whose voices have been silenced, when we lift up the oppressed, and use our words and our witness to shed light in places of darkness. It may seem insignificant, like not enough, to speak out, but what John the Baptist promises is that our words and our witness have power. This year Time Magazine awarded its person of the year to a group they’re calling “the Silence Breakers,” the women who spoke out the violence they had experienced by men in power and in doing so unveiled the open secret of a culture violence fueled by misogyny and power. I say “open secret,” because when one in four women experience sexual assault, that this is a rampant problem in our society should not be a surprise. I have to tell you that ever since the person of the year announcement, I’ve been thinking differently about the text from the first Sunday of Advent, the one that talked about how the stars would be falling. I’ve always thought about the stars falling as frightening, but what if it’s not? What if the stars were falling because the stars were threats, and their fall made space for the Kingdom of Heaven to be revealed? I have been harassed and threatened because of my gender, and it causes me to move differently through the world, and I would guess that I am not alone in this room in making that statement. And while we have a long way to go, that sexual assault and harassment are on the table right now as viable topics for conversation makes me feel safer as a part of this society. And let’s be abundantly clear this is an issue of power, when I talk to the men in my life who I love and who love me, those men make it abundantly clear that insinuating violence against another human being is not locker room talk, and it’s not boys will be boys, it is abuse. It makes me feel safer now that the people who have used their power to keep others in fear are being called to account. Grace is not always peaceful, grace is the powerful convicting presence of God to bring down the mighty and lift up the lowly. The Kingdom of God has no space for those who prey on the weakness of others, and true grace is found in the courage to hold others accountable for their actions. Evil grows in secrecy and it can only be dismantled by being brought into view.
There is, of course, a danger to our witness. That is the flip side of the John the Baptist story. The word translated as “witness” or “testimony” is the Greek word martyria, where we get the English word “martyr.” Witnessing, testifying, to the truth can be dangerous. Think about John the Baptist, he was very clear that he was not the Messiah, not Elijah, not the Prophet, and he still ended up being killed on account of his witness.
There is danger, but when I look around the world I see the power of our witness outweighing the risk. Just in this building I think about how the Woman’s Co-op has given voice to poor and marginalized women in our community, and how those women have used their voices to change our community for the better. Street court, improved lighting and neighborhood safety, a real and concerted effort to bring job training and opportunities into neighborhood, attention to childcare, and the need for help navigating the justice system are just a few of the successes that their witness has brought to Battle Creek. Their witness and their courage to speak has made and is making a better community for us all. They are not the savior, but they are witnessing to their value as children of God, and their witness brings light to the darkness and reveals God’s presence in this place. Last Sunday Laurie shared how Faith Lutheran in Okemos is bearing witness by opening their church to be a family for refugee children, and we can bear witness by sharing their story, by sharing this conviction that children fleeing certain death are precious to God, and we as a denomination serve God by caring for and about them. It feels like a small action, six children against a huge crisis. But it is a witness to who God is and to how we believe God acts in the world. And, dear people of God, as John the Baptist assured us, it matters. It matters to God and it matters to the world. So in these waning days of Advent, as we await the coming of our infant savior, let us not be afraid to bear witness to the way God is already present in the world, and to the places where we still need God to be. Because the promise of this Gospel text is that wherever we bear witness, God is there. Amen.
Conversation Points for John 1:6-8, 19-28
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:
• John has a different role in the Gospel of John than he does in the synoptic Gospels. While he does baptize, he is never identified as “the Baptist,” nor is he ever described as the one who announces the coming of Jesus. Rather, his whole role is to witness to Jesus.
• The words translated as “testimony” and “witness” are the same Greek word, martyria. Interestingly, this is where the English word “martyr” comes from. In English, we think of a martyr as someone who is killed for their faith, but its Greek root is one who gives witness.
• John’s Gospel is set up as an extended courtroom scene, which gives “testimony” both religious and juridical dimensions. John’s testimony leads others to faith, but it also is offered as first evidence in the trial being held against Jesus, a trial which comes to its final scene in the Passion. The people questioning John are not curious passersby, but specifically a delegation sent by Jewish leaders.
• The Johaninne community had a complicated relationship with the more traditional Jewish community, especially the Jewish leadership. As such, the phrase “the Jews” (hoi Ioudaioi) has a lot of different meanings in John’s Gospel. Sometimes it means just a group of Judean people. However, most often it relates specifically to the religious leaders who were in cahoots with Rome and were persecuting Jesus, and later the Johaninne community, as is the case with this group sent to interrogate John.
• The central question of the interrogation is the identity of John, a question which must be solved before the central question of the whole Gospel, who is Jesus, can be addressed.
• The language of John’s response (“He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed”) communicates the seriousness of John’s response.
• The Greek of John’s answer (I am not the Messiah), is a specific contrast to the language Jesus used to speak of his own identity. Several times in John’s Gospel, Jesus will use the phrase “I am…” (ex. “I am the bread of life,” “I am the gate for the sheep,” etc.). I am (ego eimi) is meant to evoke the name of God from the Old Testament, when God, speaking to Moses from the burning bush said, “I am who I am.” John uses the same phrasing to say who he is not (ego ouk eimi).
• When John answers “Who are you” by saying he is not the Messiah, the delegation then inserts other prophets with potential messianic expectations. Elijah didn’t die, but was transported to heaven, and many Jews believed he would return to usher in the new age. “The prophet” is a reference to Moses.
Works Sourced:
O’Day, Gail R. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. 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:
• John has a different role in the Gospel of John than he does in the synoptic Gospels. While he does baptize, he is never identified as “the Baptist,” nor is he ever described as the one who announces the coming of Jesus. Rather, his whole role is to witness to Jesus.
• The words translated as “testimony” and “witness” are the same Greek word, martyria. Interestingly, this is where the English word “martyr” comes from. In English, we think of a martyr as someone who is killed for their faith, but its Greek root is one who gives witness.
• John’s Gospel is set up as an extended courtroom scene, which gives “testimony” both religious and juridical dimensions. John’s testimony leads others to faith, but it also is offered as first evidence in the trial being held against Jesus, a trial which comes to its final scene in the Passion. The people questioning John are not curious passersby, but specifically a delegation sent by Jewish leaders.
• The Johaninne community had a complicated relationship with the more traditional Jewish community, especially the Jewish leadership. As such, the phrase “the Jews” (hoi Ioudaioi) has a lot of different meanings in John’s Gospel. Sometimes it means just a group of Judean people. However, most often it relates specifically to the religious leaders who were in cahoots with Rome and were persecuting Jesus, and later the Johaninne community, as is the case with this group sent to interrogate John.
• The central question of the interrogation is the identity of John, a question which must be solved before the central question of the whole Gospel, who is Jesus, can be addressed.
• The language of John’s response (“He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed”) communicates the seriousness of John’s response.
• The Greek of John’s answer (I am not the Messiah), is a specific contrast to the language Jesus used to speak of his own identity. Several times in John’s Gospel, Jesus will use the phrase “I am…” (ex. “I am the bread of life,” “I am the gate for the sheep,” etc.). I am (ego eimi) is meant to evoke the name of God from the Old Testament, when God, speaking to Moses from the burning bush said, “I am who I am.” John uses the same phrasing to say who he is not (ego ouk eimi).
• When John answers “Who are you” by saying he is not the Messiah, the delegation then inserts other prophets with potential messianic expectations. Elijah didn’t die, but was transported to heaven, and many Jews believed he would return to usher in the new age. “The prophet” is a reference to Moses.
Works Sourced:
O’Day, Gail R. “The Gospel of John.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume IX. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Monday, December 11, 2017
The Beginning: A Sermon on Mark 1:1-8
Advent one is always a bit of a weird start to the Christmas season. But we’re past it now, and into Advent two. And Advent two in Mark starts right where it seems like it ought, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” The beginning. One could wonder why the lectionary waits until the second week of Advent for the beginning, but hey, we’re here now. And since it’s Advent, since it’s the season we are preparing for Christmas, preparing for the birth of Christ, “the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ” means its time to get ready for some manger scenes, right. Time for angels appearing to Joseph and Mary, or the appearance of a star, or at the very least, some shepherds. The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, starts with the birth of Jesus Christ, after all.
Except in Mark, it doesn’t. One of the things that sets Mark apart from Matthew and Luke is there is no birth narrative in Mark. No angels, no journey to Bethlehem, no wise men. In fact, Mark doesn’t even begin with Jesus at all. In Mark, the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ actually begins in the Judean wilderness, with John. And John, at least at first glance, does not seem like all that good of a starting place for a narrative that purports to be good news. Just a few of the knocks against him. One, he’s dressed weird. Folk in the first century dressed differently than we do today, but even then camel’s hair was not a first choice for garments. It is as scratchy and uncomfortable as you might imagine. Two, his diet. Who wants to hang out with the guy who’s eating bugs for lunch? There is no amount of honey that makes a locust seem appetizing. Three, his location. The historically recognized location of Jesus’ baptism is remote even by first century standards. It is a section of the Jordan river just a little bit north of the Dead Sea, an area of trackless desert wilderness, marked by rough and rugged terrain, extreme heat, and a decided lack of things considered necessary for human life, namely food and water. The location raises the interesting question of what the locusts that John ate were eating. There is barely food for insects out there, let alone the throngs of people who flocked to the river to be baptized by John. And last, but maybe the strongest knock against John the Baptist. John came preaching a message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The word translated as repentance is the Greek word metanoia, which literally means to be turned around and go in a different direction. The idea of baptism as ritual washing was not new to John; most major religions have some sort of a practice of ritual washing. What was unique about John’s message was the idea that this baptism would change those who experienced it. The message was not “repent and be baptized,” but “be baptized and be repented, be turned, be reoriented to a new way of being.” This invitation to be reoriented in a different direction seems like many not the smartest invitation to accept from the crazy guy eating bugs and yelling in the wilderness. This might be the reason for the decided lack of John the Baptist themed Christmas cards. Why highlight John, when if we hold out just a couple of weeks there will be a cute baby, fluffy sheep, and angels? Even camels seem like a better Hallmark card then the guy in camel hair with a mouth full of locusts.
But I actually think the greeting card industry is the poorer for its lack of John the Baptist Christmas cards, and here’s why. I think John the Baptist offers us a powerful message of hope that babies and mangers and fluffy sheep just can’t give us. Or at least, can’t give us alone. I think John the Baptist, as the words from the prophet Isaiah assert, offers us a messenger who helps us see what we might have otherwise missed, the gift of the Christ child born among us, and how much we desperately need this infant God.
One of the unique traits of humans is that we are incredibly adaptable. Scientists say we may be the most adaptable species on earth. Think about it, there is not another species on the planet whose range stretches from above the Arctic Circle to the tip of South America and everywhere in between. We can live in the most rural of settings, and we can live in densely populated urban areas. We adapt to our surroundings, and our surroundings become normal. I experienced our innate adaptability in college. As you know, I grew up in California, and the winter of my freshman year of college was the first real winter of my life. On the first really nice day in the spring, you know, that first day when it’s legitimately warm, and everyone blows off whatever they were doing in favor of wearing shorts and being outside, I called a friend back in California. Wow, I told him, it’s such a gorgeous day here today, so warm and sunny. Really, he replied, it’s pretty cold here. That’s weird, I said, what’s the temperature? Sixty-five. I looked at the weather gauge. Huh, I remarked, it’s sixty-two here.
The gift of this adaptability is that we can survive, even thrive, in a large number of places. But like any gift, there can also be a downside. And that downside is we can normalize things that really shouldn’t become normal. Like the metaphorical frog in a pot slowly raised to boiling, we can adapt to situations that are not actually healthy for us, but because they are all we know, they can seem normal. We can normalize fear, normalize pain, normalize injustice and violence and suffering, until it seems like it is just the way of the world, and there’s nothing we can do to change it.
That is why we need John the Baptist to come in and shake up our complacency. John the Baptist shows up right in the middle of our status quo with this message of hope that a Savior is coming. His unexpected appearance and urgent calls to prepare the way, to make straight the paths, to repent and to be turned, startles us to attention and opens us to see the subtle grace of the one whose power is displayed in humility and weakness. Around this time of year, we often hear the question, would we recognize Jesus if he came today, a refugee infant born to an unwed teenage mother. The answer, of course, is no, and while it’s a good question, I don’t think it is a fair one. No, we would not recognize Jesus, but neither did the people in the time that Christ was born. We won’t, we can’t recognize Jesus, it is the very nature of Jesus to be an outsider, and that is why God first sent us John the Baptist. Jesus’ arrival was not designed to be some great secret to be known only to those who were paying attention. God knew we were not going to be expecting the birth of the Word mad flesh, and had promised since the days of old, that we would not miss it, because first there would be a messenger to prepare the way. John’s whole job is to make us alert to the one who is coming, to startle us into awareness. That’s the first piece of good news at the start of Mark’s gospel. We won’t miss Jesus, because John whole purpose is to be impossible to miss.
But wait, you may be arguing. Sure John is a crazy character, but one of the knocks against him was his location. So there’s still a fair amount of sleuthing and effort that has to go into this, the crowds had to go out into the middle of the trackless Judean wilderness. It may be a baptism of repentance, but we still have to get to the river. Well, yes and no. The key to this is the little word “of” in that first verse of Mark, the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ. The “of” in English is what is known in Greek as the genetive case. The genetive case indicates close association or belonging. What this means is that the good news of Jesus was not the message Jesus was bringing, it was the very presence of Jesus himself. Jesus, the God made flesh, was, is, the embodied good news. If Jesus had said nothing at all, had just shown up in anonymity, died and been raised, he would still have been the good news. Everything Jesus did on earth, all his teaching, his healings, every word and action, all of that was just extra, just bonus, just icing on the cake of the salvation of the world. The message John brought to the middle of the wilderness, as much as it was about Jesus, was not the good news, it was just an announcement of the coming of the good news. The good news, the only good news that mattered, was not news at all in the way we think of it. It was a person, Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God.
The other thing that’s key is role of John’s location. Like most settings in the Gospels, John’s location was as much theological as it was geographical. John’s appearance in the wilderness placed John in a long line of the prophets of old whose stories were centered in the wilderness. Moses, Elijah, and David, to name a few, all announced the presence of God in the middle of the wilderness. What John’s location assures us is that salvation comes out of the wilderness. Not just physical, but social, emotional, spiritual. Moses led people from slavery to freedom through wilderness, Elijah found water and never-ending wheat, David escaped his enemies and even his own evil deeds. John’s location promises us that God meets us in the wilderness, wherever it is, with a message so strong, so powerful, so strange, and so compelling, that we cannot miss the one who is to come. This is the promise God makes to us this advent. Into the wilderness of our lives, the savior of the world is coming. No matter how lost or alone or afraid we might feel. Or on the flip side how accustomed we may have gotten to our own brokenness, Jesus is coming here to save us. And don’t worry, you won’t miss it. Because John is coming first, and he will make sure that you don’t. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Except in Mark, it doesn’t. One of the things that sets Mark apart from Matthew and Luke is there is no birth narrative in Mark. No angels, no journey to Bethlehem, no wise men. In fact, Mark doesn’t even begin with Jesus at all. In Mark, the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ actually begins in the Judean wilderness, with John. And John, at least at first glance, does not seem like all that good of a starting place for a narrative that purports to be good news. Just a few of the knocks against him. One, he’s dressed weird. Folk in the first century dressed differently than we do today, but even then camel’s hair was not a first choice for garments. It is as scratchy and uncomfortable as you might imagine. Two, his diet. Who wants to hang out with the guy who’s eating bugs for lunch? There is no amount of honey that makes a locust seem appetizing. Three, his location. The historically recognized location of Jesus’ baptism is remote even by first century standards. It is a section of the Jordan river just a little bit north of the Dead Sea, an area of trackless desert wilderness, marked by rough and rugged terrain, extreme heat, and a decided lack of things considered necessary for human life, namely food and water. The location raises the interesting question of what the locusts that John ate were eating. There is barely food for insects out there, let alone the throngs of people who flocked to the river to be baptized by John. And last, but maybe the strongest knock against John the Baptist. John came preaching a message of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. The word translated as repentance is the Greek word metanoia, which literally means to be turned around and go in a different direction. The idea of baptism as ritual washing was not new to John; most major religions have some sort of a practice of ritual washing. What was unique about John’s message was the idea that this baptism would change those who experienced it. The message was not “repent and be baptized,” but “be baptized and be repented, be turned, be reoriented to a new way of being.” This invitation to be reoriented in a different direction seems like many not the smartest invitation to accept from the crazy guy eating bugs and yelling in the wilderness. This might be the reason for the decided lack of John the Baptist themed Christmas cards. Why highlight John, when if we hold out just a couple of weeks there will be a cute baby, fluffy sheep, and angels? Even camels seem like a better Hallmark card then the guy in camel hair with a mouth full of locusts.
But I actually think the greeting card industry is the poorer for its lack of John the Baptist Christmas cards, and here’s why. I think John the Baptist offers us a powerful message of hope that babies and mangers and fluffy sheep just can’t give us. Or at least, can’t give us alone. I think John the Baptist, as the words from the prophet Isaiah assert, offers us a messenger who helps us see what we might have otherwise missed, the gift of the Christ child born among us, and how much we desperately need this infant God.
One of the unique traits of humans is that we are incredibly adaptable. Scientists say we may be the most adaptable species on earth. Think about it, there is not another species on the planet whose range stretches from above the Arctic Circle to the tip of South America and everywhere in between. We can live in the most rural of settings, and we can live in densely populated urban areas. We adapt to our surroundings, and our surroundings become normal. I experienced our innate adaptability in college. As you know, I grew up in California, and the winter of my freshman year of college was the first real winter of my life. On the first really nice day in the spring, you know, that first day when it’s legitimately warm, and everyone blows off whatever they were doing in favor of wearing shorts and being outside, I called a friend back in California. Wow, I told him, it’s such a gorgeous day here today, so warm and sunny. Really, he replied, it’s pretty cold here. That’s weird, I said, what’s the temperature? Sixty-five. I looked at the weather gauge. Huh, I remarked, it’s sixty-two here.
The gift of this adaptability is that we can survive, even thrive, in a large number of places. But like any gift, there can also be a downside. And that downside is we can normalize things that really shouldn’t become normal. Like the metaphorical frog in a pot slowly raised to boiling, we can adapt to situations that are not actually healthy for us, but because they are all we know, they can seem normal. We can normalize fear, normalize pain, normalize injustice and violence and suffering, until it seems like it is just the way of the world, and there’s nothing we can do to change it.
That is why we need John the Baptist to come in and shake up our complacency. John the Baptist shows up right in the middle of our status quo with this message of hope that a Savior is coming. His unexpected appearance and urgent calls to prepare the way, to make straight the paths, to repent and to be turned, startles us to attention and opens us to see the subtle grace of the one whose power is displayed in humility and weakness. Around this time of year, we often hear the question, would we recognize Jesus if he came today, a refugee infant born to an unwed teenage mother. The answer, of course, is no, and while it’s a good question, I don’t think it is a fair one. No, we would not recognize Jesus, but neither did the people in the time that Christ was born. We won’t, we can’t recognize Jesus, it is the very nature of Jesus to be an outsider, and that is why God first sent us John the Baptist. Jesus’ arrival was not designed to be some great secret to be known only to those who were paying attention. God knew we were not going to be expecting the birth of the Word mad flesh, and had promised since the days of old, that we would not miss it, because first there would be a messenger to prepare the way. John’s whole job is to make us alert to the one who is coming, to startle us into awareness. That’s the first piece of good news at the start of Mark’s gospel. We won’t miss Jesus, because John whole purpose is to be impossible to miss.
But wait, you may be arguing. Sure John is a crazy character, but one of the knocks against him was his location. So there’s still a fair amount of sleuthing and effort that has to go into this, the crowds had to go out into the middle of the trackless Judean wilderness. It may be a baptism of repentance, but we still have to get to the river. Well, yes and no. The key to this is the little word “of” in that first verse of Mark, the beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ. The “of” in English is what is known in Greek as the genetive case. The genetive case indicates close association or belonging. What this means is that the good news of Jesus was not the message Jesus was bringing, it was the very presence of Jesus himself. Jesus, the God made flesh, was, is, the embodied good news. If Jesus had said nothing at all, had just shown up in anonymity, died and been raised, he would still have been the good news. Everything Jesus did on earth, all his teaching, his healings, every word and action, all of that was just extra, just bonus, just icing on the cake of the salvation of the world. The message John brought to the middle of the wilderness, as much as it was about Jesus, was not the good news, it was just an announcement of the coming of the good news. The good news, the only good news that mattered, was not news at all in the way we think of it. It was a person, Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God.
The other thing that’s key is role of John’s location. Like most settings in the Gospels, John’s location was as much theological as it was geographical. John’s appearance in the wilderness placed John in a long line of the prophets of old whose stories were centered in the wilderness. Moses, Elijah, and David, to name a few, all announced the presence of God in the middle of the wilderness. What John’s location assures us is that salvation comes out of the wilderness. Not just physical, but social, emotional, spiritual. Moses led people from slavery to freedom through wilderness, Elijah found water and never-ending wheat, David escaped his enemies and even his own evil deeds. John’s location promises us that God meets us in the wilderness, wherever it is, with a message so strong, so powerful, so strange, and so compelling, that we cannot miss the one who is to come. This is the promise God makes to us this advent. Into the wilderness of our lives, the savior of the world is coming. No matter how lost or alone or afraid we might feel. Or on the flip side how accustomed we may have gotten to our own brokenness, Jesus is coming here to save us. And don’t worry, you won’t miss it. Because John is coming first, and he will make sure that you don’t. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Conversation Points for Mark 1:1-8
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 beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Mark 1:1
• V. 1 seems to be a title for the whole Gospel. There is a lot packed into this one sentence, so this first section is going to look closely at just this one verse.
• The opening word “beginning” (arche), could refer to either a temporal beginning (the beginning of Jesus’ ministry) or the opening of a narrative (the beginning of this account of Jesus ministry).
• The phrase translated as “good news” in the NRSV, is the Greek word euangelion. Another common translation of euangelion is “gospel.” Although we commonly associate the word gospel with the four gospels in the Bible, as a narrative account of Jesus’ life and ministry, the word in the original Greek means “good news” or “proclamation.” The English “gospel” comes from the Old English “god” meaning “good”, “spel” meaning “story” or “message.” This word next appears in v. 14, when Jesus began to travel around Galilee at the start of his preaching ministry. In the letters of Paul, the word gospel refers to the preaching message of Jesus as the source of salvation.
• “of Jesus Christ” is written in what is called the genitive case, which is a case in the Greek language that indicates possession or close association. This indicates that Jesus himself is the good news, not that Jesus is delivering a record of the good news.
• “Christ” (Christos) is a Greek word for the Hebrew messiah or anointed one. [Totally unrelated fun fact: the “ch” sound in the Greek alphabet is the letter chi, which looks like this χ. It is where the abbreviation Merry X-mas comes from, the X standing for the Greek chi, the first letter in the word Christ. If someone tells you that “Merry X-mas” is a war on Christmas, explain to them that they are not well-versed in their knowledge of Koine Greek. I’m sure that will go over swimmingly, but you will be right]. In the first century, the term Christ often referred to a person who claimed to be a political leader in the Davidic tradition, essentially a claim to the kingship of Israel. This would have been a basis for execution based on the political threat to the Empire. The gospels use Christ as a title to indicate that Jesus was the anointed one of God (Hebrew messiah).
• The second title assigned in this sentence is “Son of God.” For early Christians, the title “messiah/Christ” and “Son of God” were closely associated. The expression has origins in ancient Israel’s understanding of the close relationship between God and the Davidic kings. The Davidic kings were understood as sons of God by adoption. In the gospels, first here in Mark and then in the others, the title “Son of God” takes on the meaning we are familiar with today, connoting Jesus’ unique relationship with God the Father, and the divinity of Jesus.
• The first thing Mark does after starting his telling of the good news of Jesus is to connect it to the Old Testament prophesies about salvation. The citation attributed to Isaiah is actually a combination of the reference to a messenger in Malachi 3:1 and Isaiah’s description of the wilderness in Isaiah 40:3.
• Other Old Testament imagery is found in the description of John himself. His clothing is reminiscent of Elijah in 2 Kings 1:8 (“a hairy man, with a leather belt around his waist”), and his diet, locusts and honey instead of meat and wine, call to mind Daniel 1:8. • The wilderness is an important location theologically. In the Old Testament, salvation usually comes from the wilderness. The wilderness is a setting in the stories of Moses, Elijah, and David.
• The idea of baptism as a ritual washing was not unique to John. What was unique was the idea of baptism as a vehicle for repentance and forgiveness. Also unique about John’s baptism was the idea that it was not an individual purification ritual but a way that a community was gathered and created.
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:
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Mark 1:1
• V. 1 seems to be a title for the whole Gospel. There is a lot packed into this one sentence, so this first section is going to look closely at just this one verse.
• The opening word “beginning” (arche), could refer to either a temporal beginning (the beginning of Jesus’ ministry) or the opening of a narrative (the beginning of this account of Jesus ministry).
• The phrase translated as “good news” in the NRSV, is the Greek word euangelion. Another common translation of euangelion is “gospel.” Although we commonly associate the word gospel with the four gospels in the Bible, as a narrative account of Jesus’ life and ministry, the word in the original Greek means “good news” or “proclamation.” The English “gospel” comes from the Old English “god” meaning “good”, “spel” meaning “story” or “message.” This word next appears in v. 14, when Jesus began to travel around Galilee at the start of his preaching ministry. In the letters of Paul, the word gospel refers to the preaching message of Jesus as the source of salvation.
• “of Jesus Christ” is written in what is called the genitive case, which is a case in the Greek language that indicates possession or close association. This indicates that Jesus himself is the good news, not that Jesus is delivering a record of the good news.
• “Christ” (Christos) is a Greek word for the Hebrew messiah or anointed one. [Totally unrelated fun fact: the “ch” sound in the Greek alphabet is the letter chi, which looks like this χ. It is where the abbreviation Merry X-mas comes from, the X standing for the Greek chi, the first letter in the word Christ. If someone tells you that “Merry X-mas” is a war on Christmas, explain to them that they are not well-versed in their knowledge of Koine Greek. I’m sure that will go over swimmingly, but you will be right]. In the first century, the term Christ often referred to a person who claimed to be a political leader in the Davidic tradition, essentially a claim to the kingship of Israel. This would have been a basis for execution based on the political threat to the Empire. The gospels use Christ as a title to indicate that Jesus was the anointed one of God (Hebrew messiah).
• The second title assigned in this sentence is “Son of God.” For early Christians, the title “messiah/Christ” and “Son of God” were closely associated. The expression has origins in ancient Israel’s understanding of the close relationship between God and the Davidic kings. The Davidic kings were understood as sons of God by adoption. In the gospels, first here in Mark and then in the others, the title “Son of God” takes on the meaning we are familiar with today, connoting Jesus’ unique relationship with God the Father, and the divinity of Jesus.
• The first thing Mark does after starting his telling of the good news of Jesus is to connect it to the Old Testament prophesies about salvation. The citation attributed to Isaiah is actually a combination of the reference to a messenger in Malachi 3:1 and Isaiah’s description of the wilderness in Isaiah 40:3.
• Other Old Testament imagery is found in the description of John himself. His clothing is reminiscent of Elijah in 2 Kings 1:8 (“a hairy man, with a leather belt around his waist”), and his diet, locusts and honey instead of meat and wine, call to mind Daniel 1:8. • The wilderness is an important location theologically. In the Old Testament, salvation usually comes from the wilderness. The wilderness is a setting in the stories of Moses, Elijah, and David.
• The idea of baptism as a ritual washing was not unique to John. What was unique was the idea of baptism as a vehicle for repentance and forgiveness. Also unique about John’s baptism was the idea that it was not an individual purification ritual but a way that a community was gathered and created.
Works Sourced:
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Monday, December 4, 2017
From the Ends of the Earth: A Sermon on Mark 13:24-37
The text for the first Sunday in Advent always seems so out of place. After all, it’s Advent, it’s the season where we are all eagerly preparing for the birth of the baby Jesus, and the text for the first Sunday of Advent always sounds terrifying. All of the talk of days of suffering, darkened sun, and the powers in the heavens being shaken. At least, read out of context, they sound terrifying. But the word advent means coming into being. This season is not actually about waiting patiently for the historical birthday of a cute baby a long time ago, it is about the long expected promise that Christ is coming to us, today, in the flesh. And when we look around us at the suffering of God’s people in the world today, we probably find that we share in Isaiah’s hope that God in fact would “tear open the heavens and come.” Viewed in that lens, we find that these seemingly frightening texts are not just good news, but deep and powerful hope for us. So let’s take a few minutes now and orient ourselves to both the time of the Gospel of Mark, and to the time in Jesus’ ministry that he was speaking. Because, like all of the Gospels, Mark too is written to function on many levels, on the level of the historical life of Jesus, the level of the disciples who followed after Jesus, and as good news for our own lives.
First let’s look at Mark. Since we’ll be spending the next year with him, it’s good to orient ourselves to his context. The Gospel of Mark was the first of the four Gospels to be written, most scholars date it from during the time of the Roman-Jewish War, between 66 and 70 CE. This was a war so violent that the ancient scholar Josephus described the streets as running with blood. Also during this time the great Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. It is almost impossible to overstate the importance the Temple played in the life of first century Judeans. More than just a place of worship, it was the social and political center of life. And as the center of religious life, that too cannot be overstated. If our church was destroyed, it would be hard and we would be sad, but our faith could survive. After all, as important as this building is, it is in the end just a building. But for the first century Judeans, the Temple was not just a building, it was the literal home of God. The destruction of the Temple called into question the very existence of God. For Mark’s original audience, the line about “the powers in the heavens [being] shaken” was not metaphorical, it was happening before their very eyes with the threat to the Temple.
So when Mark’s audience heard that when the sun was darkened, and the stars were falling, and the powers in the heavens were shaking, then the Son of Man was coming in glory, that news brought not terror but hope. Imagine yourself in their shoes. The uneasy peace that you’ve existed under for so long is over, and Rome, the most powerful force in the entire world is standing at the gates of the city ready to destroy everything you hold dear. Not just your home, not just your family, not even just your life, but even your God, your faith, your source of being, is facing destruction. Imagine that everything you know and love, everything you use to make meaning of this world, is crumbling around you, and then hear Mark say that the Son of Man is coming in glory, and that “he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heaven.” This is a powerful promise that you have not been forgotten and you cannot be lost. From the four winds, from the ends of the earth and even to the ends of the heaven, that is how far God will go to gather up God’s people. Notice there is no judgment language in Mark’s account of this gathering. The focus is not on what we need to do, it is completely and totally on the all-encompassing, overreaching expanse of God’s power. The sun cannot darken enough, the heavens cannot shake enough, for you to be in a place where God cannot find you.
The same promise holds true when we read it in the time of Jesus’ message to his disciples. Like the reading from last week, this reading is Jesus final speech before the Passion narrative begins. The start of chapter fourteen places this two days before the Passover; we’re two days out from the crucifixion. The disciples don’t know it yet, but they are about to enter a time when it feels like the sun has darkened, the stars are falling, and the powers in heaven are shaken, when they see their leader and teacher handed over to the Romans and put to death before their eyes. And what the disciples won’t know, but we know, is that indescribable truth that Jesus’ death on the cross is in fact his coming in glory. The cross is the place where the power of God is made known; it is from the cross that God gathers up the elect, from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens. The disciples wouldn’t believe it for three days, but we can find hope in it now, that the powers in heaven are shaken by the power and the glory and the might of God, who will not allow even death to stand in the way of drawing near God’s people.
It was good news then, and it is good news now. Because all of us can think of a time when we felt the earth shift beneath our feet. All of us can imagine that moment when everything we thought we knew was gone. The middle of the night phone call, the frightening diagnosis, the knock at the door. And all we need to do is look at the paper or turn on the television, and we can see that moment happening in the lives of others. The crisis in Myanmar, the epidemic of sexual assault, the continued growing threat of North Korea, heroin and gun violence in our own communities, we do not have to look far to feel like the sun is darkened and the starts falling, and the very powers of heaven are shaking. And what these first Sunday of Advent texts promise us is that the Son of Man is coming. Not as a soft, cuddly baby, though babies are nice. But the Son of Man is coming in power and glory. The God who formed the universe, who shaped the heavens, and who called creation into being will tear open those same heavens to get to us, to be with us. No matter what is happening in your life, what fear you are holding, what grief you are carrying, what uncertainty you are staring into, the promise of this passage is that you will be gathered up by the Son of Man, because from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heaven, that is how far God will go to get to you.
So keep awake, the reading from today ended. Keep awake, because we do not know the day or the hour. Read in a single moment in time, this too can seem frightening, keep awake or you might miss it. But think about it throughout the scope of history. The disciples missed it, the first time they saw the Son of Man come in glory on the cross. But that didn’t stop Jesus from rising from the dead. The first readers of Mark probably missed it, when the Temple was destroyed and they wondered if God had been destroyed too, but God was not destroyed and God did not leave them. When bad things happen and heaven feels like it’s shaking, it can be hard to feel the presence of God around us, but this command to keep awake invites us to look for the places where God’s glory is still shining. To even at the grave say Alleluia, because we know that God’s power is still triumphing. As the great theologian Mr. Rogers once said, when we see scary things we can “look for the helpers,” and know that God is still in control.
This text is not just good news for the disciples, who would see God’s glory displayed on the cross. It was not just good news for Mark’s readers, who could watch the destruction of the Temple and know that God was still with them. And it is not just good news for us today, when we feel the earth shake beneath our feet and hold on to the promise of Christ’s victory over death. It is also good news for the future. Because what this text promises us is that God is unshakably in control. We live in the liminal already and not yet, already Christ is with us, and not yet has God’s kingdom come. And this passage declares that God’s kingdom will come. “Heaven and earth may pass away, but my words” this declaration of God’s presence us, “will not.” It is this coming, this powerful, unshakable rending of the earth to come to us, to be with us, that we await this advent season. Thanks be to God, who has not, will not, and will never leave us. Amen.
First let’s look at Mark. Since we’ll be spending the next year with him, it’s good to orient ourselves to his context. The Gospel of Mark was the first of the four Gospels to be written, most scholars date it from during the time of the Roman-Jewish War, between 66 and 70 CE. This was a war so violent that the ancient scholar Josephus described the streets as running with blood. Also during this time the great Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed. It is almost impossible to overstate the importance the Temple played in the life of first century Judeans. More than just a place of worship, it was the social and political center of life. And as the center of religious life, that too cannot be overstated. If our church was destroyed, it would be hard and we would be sad, but our faith could survive. After all, as important as this building is, it is in the end just a building. But for the first century Judeans, the Temple was not just a building, it was the literal home of God. The destruction of the Temple called into question the very existence of God. For Mark’s original audience, the line about “the powers in the heavens [being] shaken” was not metaphorical, it was happening before their very eyes with the threat to the Temple.
So when Mark’s audience heard that when the sun was darkened, and the stars were falling, and the powers in the heavens were shaking, then the Son of Man was coming in glory, that news brought not terror but hope. Imagine yourself in their shoes. The uneasy peace that you’ve existed under for so long is over, and Rome, the most powerful force in the entire world is standing at the gates of the city ready to destroy everything you hold dear. Not just your home, not just your family, not even just your life, but even your God, your faith, your source of being, is facing destruction. Imagine that everything you know and love, everything you use to make meaning of this world, is crumbling around you, and then hear Mark say that the Son of Man is coming in glory, and that “he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heaven.” This is a powerful promise that you have not been forgotten and you cannot be lost. From the four winds, from the ends of the earth and even to the ends of the heaven, that is how far God will go to gather up God’s people. Notice there is no judgment language in Mark’s account of this gathering. The focus is not on what we need to do, it is completely and totally on the all-encompassing, overreaching expanse of God’s power. The sun cannot darken enough, the heavens cannot shake enough, for you to be in a place where God cannot find you.
The same promise holds true when we read it in the time of Jesus’ message to his disciples. Like the reading from last week, this reading is Jesus final speech before the Passion narrative begins. The start of chapter fourteen places this two days before the Passover; we’re two days out from the crucifixion. The disciples don’t know it yet, but they are about to enter a time when it feels like the sun has darkened, the stars are falling, and the powers in heaven are shaken, when they see their leader and teacher handed over to the Romans and put to death before their eyes. And what the disciples won’t know, but we know, is that indescribable truth that Jesus’ death on the cross is in fact his coming in glory. The cross is the place where the power of God is made known; it is from the cross that God gathers up the elect, from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heavens. The disciples wouldn’t believe it for three days, but we can find hope in it now, that the powers in heaven are shaken by the power and the glory and the might of God, who will not allow even death to stand in the way of drawing near God’s people.
It was good news then, and it is good news now. Because all of us can think of a time when we felt the earth shift beneath our feet. All of us can imagine that moment when everything we thought we knew was gone. The middle of the night phone call, the frightening diagnosis, the knock at the door. And all we need to do is look at the paper or turn on the television, and we can see that moment happening in the lives of others. The crisis in Myanmar, the epidemic of sexual assault, the continued growing threat of North Korea, heroin and gun violence in our own communities, we do not have to look far to feel like the sun is darkened and the starts falling, and the very powers of heaven are shaking. And what these first Sunday of Advent texts promise us is that the Son of Man is coming. Not as a soft, cuddly baby, though babies are nice. But the Son of Man is coming in power and glory. The God who formed the universe, who shaped the heavens, and who called creation into being will tear open those same heavens to get to us, to be with us. No matter what is happening in your life, what fear you are holding, what grief you are carrying, what uncertainty you are staring into, the promise of this passage is that you will be gathered up by the Son of Man, because from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of the heaven, that is how far God will go to get to you.
So keep awake, the reading from today ended. Keep awake, because we do not know the day or the hour. Read in a single moment in time, this too can seem frightening, keep awake or you might miss it. But think about it throughout the scope of history. The disciples missed it, the first time they saw the Son of Man come in glory on the cross. But that didn’t stop Jesus from rising from the dead. The first readers of Mark probably missed it, when the Temple was destroyed and they wondered if God had been destroyed too, but God was not destroyed and God did not leave them. When bad things happen and heaven feels like it’s shaking, it can be hard to feel the presence of God around us, but this command to keep awake invites us to look for the places where God’s glory is still shining. To even at the grave say Alleluia, because we know that God’s power is still triumphing. As the great theologian Mr. Rogers once said, when we see scary things we can “look for the helpers,” and know that God is still in control.
This text is not just good news for the disciples, who would see God’s glory displayed on the cross. It was not just good news for Mark’s readers, who could watch the destruction of the Temple and know that God was still with them. And it is not just good news for us today, when we feel the earth shake beneath our feet and hold on to the promise of Christ’s victory over death. It is also good news for the future. Because what this text promises us is that God is unshakably in control. We live in the liminal already and not yet, already Christ is with us, and not yet has God’s kingdom come. And this passage declares that God’s kingdom will come. “Heaven and earth may pass away, but my words” this declaration of God’s presence us, “will not.” It is this coming, this powerful, unshakable rending of the earth to come to us, to be with us, that we await this advent season. Thanks be to God, who has not, will not, and will never leave us. Amen.
Friday, December 1, 2017
Conversation Points for Mark 13:24-37
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:
• As we switch from Matthew to Mark, let’s first orient ourselves into the Markan Gospel. Written around the time of the Jewish War (66-70 CE), Mark is believed to be the first of the Gospels to be written. Matthew and Luke both pull heavily from Mark in setting the action and order of the narrative. Mark’s Gospel is characterized by a sense of urgency. “Immediately” is a key word in the narrative. Another uniquely Markan trait is the “messianic secret.” Jesus often urged his disciples and others to “tell no one” about who he was or what he was doing.
• Mark 13 especially seems to be addressing the time in which it was written, the unrest and uncertainty of the Jewish War. David Hellholm calls this “crisis literature,” written to address a particular crisis moment in which the righteousness of God is called into question. The destruction of the Temple was just such a moment. The Temple was not only the religious, but also the social and political center of Jewish life. Its destruction called into question whether God was, or could be, still present with the people of Israel. Mark 13 sought to assure its listeners that even though in this moment of the destruction of the Temple it felt as if “the sun [was] darkened, and the moon [would] not give its light, and the stars [were] falling from heaven, and the powers of the heaven [were] shaken” (Mark 13:24-25), God was still with them, and “the Son of Man [would still be] coming in clouds with great power and glory” (Mark 13:26).
• The images in v. 24-27 pull from a variety of common prophetic sayings (cf. Isaiah 13:10; 34:4; Ezekiel 32:7-8; Joel 2:10-11; 3:4, 15). The coming of the Son of Man in v. 26 and the gathering of all the elect in v. 27 encourage the followers of Jesus not to concern themselves with what will happen to their enemies. No explicit judgment occurs in Mark’s apocalyptic account. Instead they are to focus on their own participation and the promise that no one will be left out when the Son of Man comes.
Works Sourced:
Jacobsen, David Schnasa. “Commentary on Mark 13:24-37.” Working Preacher.. Accessed: 27 November 2017.
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Powell, Mark Allan. Fortress Introduction to the Gospels. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1998.
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:
• As we switch from Matthew to Mark, let’s first orient ourselves into the Markan Gospel. Written around the time of the Jewish War (66-70 CE), Mark is believed to be the first of the Gospels to be written. Matthew and Luke both pull heavily from Mark in setting the action and order of the narrative. Mark’s Gospel is characterized by a sense of urgency. “Immediately” is a key word in the narrative. Another uniquely Markan trait is the “messianic secret.” Jesus often urged his disciples and others to “tell no one” about who he was or what he was doing.
• Mark 13 especially seems to be addressing the time in which it was written, the unrest and uncertainty of the Jewish War. David Hellholm calls this “crisis literature,” written to address a particular crisis moment in which the righteousness of God is called into question. The destruction of the Temple was just such a moment. The Temple was not only the religious, but also the social and political center of Jewish life. Its destruction called into question whether God was, or could be, still present with the people of Israel. Mark 13 sought to assure its listeners that even though in this moment of the destruction of the Temple it felt as if “the sun [was] darkened, and the moon [would] not give its light, and the stars [were] falling from heaven, and the powers of the heaven [were] shaken” (Mark 13:24-25), God was still with them, and “the Son of Man [would still be] coming in clouds with great power and glory” (Mark 13:26).
• The images in v. 24-27 pull from a variety of common prophetic sayings (cf. Isaiah 13:10; 34:4; Ezekiel 32:7-8; Joel 2:10-11; 3:4, 15). The coming of the Son of Man in v. 26 and the gathering of all the elect in v. 27 encourage the followers of Jesus not to concern themselves with what will happen to their enemies. No explicit judgment occurs in Mark’s apocalyptic account. Instead they are to focus on their own participation and the promise that no one will be left out when the Son of Man comes.
Works Sourced:
Jacobsen, David Schnasa. “Commentary on Mark 13:24-37.” Working Preacher.
Perkins, Pheme. “The Gospel of Mark.” The New Interpreter’s Bible Volume VIII. Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1995.
Powell, Mark Allan. Fortress Introduction to the Gospels. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1998.
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