The Gospel According to Mark 10: 2-16
2 Some Pharisees came, and to test him they asked, ‘Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?’ 3He answered them, ‘What did Moses command you?’ 4They said, ‘Moses allowed a man to write a certificate of dismissal and to divorce her.’ 5But Jesus said to them, ‘Because of your hardness of heart he wrote this commandment for you. 6But from the beginning of creation, “God made them male and female.” 7“For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife,* 8and the two shall become one flesh.” So they are no longer two, but one flesh. 9Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.’
10 Then in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. 11He said to them, ‘Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; 12and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.’
Jesus Blesses Little Children
13 People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. 14But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. 15Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’ 16And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
This text is the background for the first sermon I ever preached in this congregation three years ago today. I’ll be the first to tell you that things haven’t gotten any easier! I imagine that none of you are surprised to read this text in the bible- whether divorced, single, married, or some place in between, this text isn’t a secret. I am the child of divorced parents- and I remember hearing these verses read in church and thinking, my parents are in trouble. It seemed that they did not do what God wanted.
Now, it would be easy to spend a little time in the Hebrews text for today, even in the text from Genesis, but the words of this passage from Mark sound out in our sanctuary in such a way that they just beg for us to look deeper. They are the elephant in the room this morning. Let me begin by saying that we wade into this text with some fear and trembling, knowing that each one of us brings an experience to God’s word this morning that is significant. I bring the pain of divorce as I experienced it as a five year old girl. Some of you bring the pain of divorce in your own relationships, or in the relationships of children or loved ones. Too often this text has been used as more of a weapon than a tool. Instead of looking deeply into what Jesus might be saying, holding it gently, this text can become a way of knocking people upside the head. Don’t get divorced. As if that is the only answer to the complicated question of human relationships. To the complexity of our human experience God does not answer with a simple yes or no. Always, always, we read our texts as they are wrapped in grace. So with grace at the forefront of our minds let’s dig a bit deeper.
Our text begins with the Pharisees coming to Jesus once again. Now, it was only a few weeks ago that we remember these Pharisees coming to Jesus to ask a different question. They are a set of religious leaders who are intent on bring the community back to the law. To the Pharisees the ignorance of the law has led to the brokenness of their community, anything but the law puts the people in danger, and moves them further away from the religious structure of the day. And when the Pharisees come to Jesus, we often see a little glimmer of bad intent in their question. They don’t really want to know the answer. They just want Jesus to say the wrong thing, so that the one who says he came to abolish the law, who flagrantly ignores parts of what is so important to these Pharisees might get into some trouble. So, these Pharisees approach Jesus to ask him a question- is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?
Simple answer- yes. Moses wrote the law, so it is lawful. These Pharisees obviously know the answer- they are teachers of the law! But, it is even trickier to answer than at first glance. First, the Jewish community was divided on the interpretation of the law. Some suggested that a man could only divorce his wife if she committed adultery. Other communities suggested that it was permissible if she did anything that displeased him. Rarely, if ever, could a woman divorce her husband. And, not only that, but we ought not forget that only a few chapters ago Jesus’ own cousin, John the Baptist, lost his head after condemning the King for divorcing his wife in order to marry his brother’s wife. So, this question of divorce has a lot riding on it.
So we have this question hanging in the air, and it appears that Jesus isn’t ready to give a simple answer. Is it lawful to divorce? Why doesn’t he just answer yes or no? Why not give a simple answer to this simple question? Apparently, because it isn’t so simple. When faced with this tricky questions Jesus has a way of leaving the question behind and bring scripture to the foreground.
So he tells them the story from the beginning when God created. God made all of creation that they might be joined together. And the hardness of heart buried deep within that creation got in the way, and Moses wrote for the people the commandment. What God has joined together, no one should separate. That’s all Jesus tells those questioning Pharisees. The rest comes later.
Many of us have heard these words used as a way to explain who should and shouldn’t be allowed to get married. I don’t think Jesus is saying much about that here, actually. He is saying some pretty difficult stuff, especially for us who are so frequently touched by divorce.
But, let’s keep going. Alone with the disciples Jesus goes even further, saying that whoever divorces and marries another commits adultery.
Geez. We could do some textual backflips and try to make it seem like Jesus wasn’t really saying what he said. I don’t think that is fair to this text. We can just say it is bound in time and walk away. Or we can even say that if something like this exists in scripture than this is not the kind of community we want to be a part of. But, imagine with me that Jesus is saying something difficult about divorce. And here’s what I think he is saying:
Divorce hurts. Divorce hurts. As the child of a divorce, I can tell you, Jesus is right, it hurts. Divorce hurts and God cares. Divorce is literally the ripping apart of two that have become one. And when we rip apart relationships it just plain hurts. I don’t care if you are married in a church, in a courtroom or in another kind of ceremony that seals your union- when we unite in those intimate ways with the person most important in our lives, when that relationship breaks, when that vulnerable, intimate relationship is ended it hurts. It hurts and God grieves.
I think the greatest lesson we can gather from this text is not about divorce being a yes or a no, but about divorce being something that goes against God’s intention for our creation. Anyone who has been touched by divorce knows this to be true. This is not what a family would choose, this is not what partners would choose. But it happens, and when it does, we come with deep grief, and deep pain. Knowing this is not how anyone wanted it to be. Now, please hear this, divorce is not tied to salvation. Divorce is not even tied to God’s love for you. You need not be concerned about your salvation, because that is a gift of grace through faith. And because we know that God loves us, despite ourselves, even when we break covenantal relationships with each other, we can hear this text with new ears. When our community is broken, especially when our community is broken by divorce, God deeply cares. God’s care for the most vulnerable, for children, for widows, for those plunged into the vulnerability of life by the act of divorce, God deeply cares. Jesus deeply cares. What has been brought together can only be broken by the most painful of actions.
But beyond the question of divorce, Jesus seems a bit more confused and distressed by the hardheartedness that wins the day. Men are permitted to divorce their wives when something better comes along, casting these women out with no safety net because their hearts are hardened. The disciples ignore the plight of children being brought to Jesus in order to receive a healing touch because their hearts are hardened. What Jesus cares most deeply about, in our text, is those who are left out, those who are most broken, most vulnerable, most alone. The work of God through Jesus is always to bring unity, to bring healing where things and people have been torn apart.
When we come to the table together, we are broken and we are hurting, we are divorced and we are married, single and in committed relationships, we are men and we are women, we are children and we are adults. God cares, God cares deeply for us, whatever we bring to the table, because that is who God is. Jesus cares for the most vulnerable above all else, seeking to heal what is broken in our world and in our lives. And because of that deep care, we are able to eat of one bread and one body, we take the flesh of Christ into our own flesh, and we are recreated, healed, and united. Our hard heartedness might fall away, for just a moment. That we might see in this bread and wine the one who is most concerned, who is most grieved by our brokenness, who is most with us in our pain and in our struggle. The one who can never be torn from us, because we have been joined to Christ in baptism. And what God has brought together in this, no one, even ourselves, can ever separate. Amen, and thanks be to God.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Sermon- 17th Sunday after Pentecost
The Gospel According to Mark 9:38-50
38 John said to him, ‘Teacher, we saw someone* casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.’ 39But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterwards to speak evil of me. 40Whoever is not against us is for us. 41For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.
Temptations to Sin
42 ‘If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me,* it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. 43If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell,* to the unquenchable fire.* 45And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell.*,* 47And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell,* 48where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.
49 ‘For everyone will be salted with fire.* 50Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it?* Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.’
$7,909.62, 24 hours, not one single set of verses read together. This is the stuff of Salvation on the Small Screen, a book written by an emerging church Lutheran pastor named Nadia Bolz-Weber. She is challenged to spend 24 consecutive hours watching Trinity Broadcast Network, a 24 hour cable channel dedicated commercial free, inspirational programming.
$7,909.62 is the total of all the items offered for sale on this commercial free channel. Dvd’s, bibles, even Faberge style eggs. 24 hours is the challenge. Recording her responses and the responses of family and friends fill the pages of her book. She calls her task- Christian Fear Factor.
Now, I lived my own little share of Christian Fear Factor in college. I grew up Lutheran, along with all that might mean. No one ever told me growing up that I needed to ask Jesus into my heart, we didn’t talk a lot about the devil, Sunday texts were always from the lectionary, not to supplement a sermon series, I never heard the phrase spiritual warfare until college. I could talk up and down about saint and sinner, I knew pretty much all the words to A Mighty Fortress, I was a big fan of Martin Luther.
So, I pack myself up, and for a reason I still don’t truly understand, I drove down to Hope College, a small Christian Reformed school in West Michigan. I am one of the few Lutherans on campus, and everyone else seems to know music I’ve never heard before, in fact, they seem to know a Jesus I’ve never met before. They can pull verses out of the bible like no tomorrow. And, because I’m in college, and because I have always had a bit of a rebellious streak, I decide that I’m going to be the liberal Lutheran voice on campus.
All of this sets the scene for an evening during my senior year. We had worship three times a week, and a big worship service on Sunday evenings. I’m there, with all my friends, none of whom are Lutheran, and most who think I’m a little off my rocker. Worship is great, I’ll give it that. The huge worship space is packed. It is energetic and enthusiastic. People are there because they really love Jesus. Worship ends, and another student taps me on the shoulder. Brooke, he says, I just have to tell you, God’s laying this on my heart, I’m worried about your salvation.
Wait. I’m Lutheran. We aren’t a people who can worry about our salvation. We can’t do it, because we know once we start we’ll never stop. So we give all the stuff of salvation over to God. That’s what my people do- we trust in grace alone. We don’t worry.
For the writer of Salvation on the Small Screen, and for myself, I must tell you, I would really like to get some of the disciples from our gospel today with me to say, “We saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he is not with us!” I’d like to get a little Joshua response from our Old Testament lesson and say, “They don’t get to prophesy! Lord you must stop them!”
For those of us that gather here Sunday after Sunday, my deep hope is that we are Lutheran for a reason. It isn’t just because this is the closest church and we don’t want to have to walk too far on a Sunday morning. I hope that in this place we have found a way of seeing God that seems true, that bears the fruits of the spirit, that soothes our souls and connects us with something bigger than ourselves. I’m a Lutheran pastor because I love being a Lutheran- I love living into the questions, I love that we don’t know all the answers, we have such a deep theological tradition that I really can’t imagine being anything else.
The disciples and I are of the same tribe. They are nine chapters into the gospel of Mark, and even if they keep getting confused and they always seem to be one step behind, they aren’t going anywhere yet. They are following Jesus, even when he keeps telling them things they don’t want to hear. They want to be with him, maybe even be like him.
So, no surprise, when someone starts casting out demons in Jesus’ name they are the first to put a stop to that crazy business. You don’t get to do that unless you are with us, you don’t get to do that unless you are one of us. I mean, how is Jesus supposed to know that these demon casters are even good theologians? How is he supposed to know that they are worthy of the ability to cast out demons? We must remember, only a few scenes earlier in our text, the disciples themselves couldn’t cast a demon out, so how can these outsiders be doing the business of disciples?
It’s pretty scary when we get a glimpse into the methods God will use to bring about the kingdom. It’s pretty scary to look straight in the face of someone who is worried about my salvation because I’m a bit too liberal, and realize that God is going to use him, just like God uses me to bring about God’s purpose for the world. God is going to use the Lutherans and the evangelicals and everyone else in between, and that is a hard truth, because it means that those holes in our theology? They are getting filled by someone else. Those thin parts of our tradition? Someone else might be getting it a bit closer to right than us.
But, that does not mean that anything goes. I can tell you, if you leave this sanctuary this morning and start quizzing people at work about their salvation, you’ve probably missed the point. Because, there are consequences, and Jesus makes them all sound pretty harsh. Cut off your hand, pluck out your eye, cut off your leg. Put a millstone around your neck and jump in Lake Michigan. Cause a little one to stumble, and it would be better to lose your tongue than continue on that path.
This is the part I would rather ignore. Jesus just sounds harsh. He is demanding and serious, and not warm and fuzzy and holding babies like last week. There is fire and salt, and body part plucking. Jesus sounds like he should be the first one in line to tell that renegade demon caster that he better get with them or he is against them. Jesus is not kidding around when it comes to sin, and the stumbling of believers.
This is serious stuff, the stuff of sin and relationship to one another. The stuff of God’s kingdom and the ways that we break our relationships with others and with God. How serious? Serious enough that we ought to be cutting off those parts of ourselves that cause others to stumble, serious enough that we don’t just pretend everything is okay, we know that we get it wrong again and again and again. Law and gospel is the stuff of our lives- and the law is not a teeny tiny blip on the screen- we ought not live in ways that break down our neighbors, that silence them and cut them off from God, we ought not teach in ways that break relationship with God, or reinforce sins of injustice. But along with that law, we always see gospel. The Gospel of freedom, the gospel of promise, the gospel that is our salvation.
God uses all of us, broken sinners with incorrect teaching and broken relationships. God uses us, even when we seek to silence one another. Knowing who God is, and how far God will go, and who gets to be in the circle with us, it is pretty scary stuff. As in the book of Numbers, the Lord has put the spirit on you, on me, on our friends who disagree with us, and on disciples who just don’t get it. And for that, with fear and faith, we say, thanks be to God. Amen.
38 John said to him, ‘Teacher, we saw someone* casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.’ 39But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterwards to speak evil of me. 40Whoever is not against us is for us. 41For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.
Temptations to Sin
42 ‘If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me,* it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. 43If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell,* to the unquenchable fire.* 45And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell.*,* 47And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell,* 48where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.
49 ‘For everyone will be salted with fire.* 50Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it?* Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.’
$7,909.62, 24 hours, not one single set of verses read together. This is the stuff of Salvation on the Small Screen, a book written by an emerging church Lutheran pastor named Nadia Bolz-Weber. She is challenged to spend 24 consecutive hours watching Trinity Broadcast Network, a 24 hour cable channel dedicated commercial free, inspirational programming.
$7,909.62 is the total of all the items offered for sale on this commercial free channel. Dvd’s, bibles, even Faberge style eggs. 24 hours is the challenge. Recording her responses and the responses of family and friends fill the pages of her book. She calls her task- Christian Fear Factor.
Now, I lived my own little share of Christian Fear Factor in college. I grew up Lutheran, along with all that might mean. No one ever told me growing up that I needed to ask Jesus into my heart, we didn’t talk a lot about the devil, Sunday texts were always from the lectionary, not to supplement a sermon series, I never heard the phrase spiritual warfare until college. I could talk up and down about saint and sinner, I knew pretty much all the words to A Mighty Fortress, I was a big fan of Martin Luther.
So, I pack myself up, and for a reason I still don’t truly understand, I drove down to Hope College, a small Christian Reformed school in West Michigan. I am one of the few Lutherans on campus, and everyone else seems to know music I’ve never heard before, in fact, they seem to know a Jesus I’ve never met before. They can pull verses out of the bible like no tomorrow. And, because I’m in college, and because I have always had a bit of a rebellious streak, I decide that I’m going to be the liberal Lutheran voice on campus.
All of this sets the scene for an evening during my senior year. We had worship three times a week, and a big worship service on Sunday evenings. I’m there, with all my friends, none of whom are Lutheran, and most who think I’m a little off my rocker. Worship is great, I’ll give it that. The huge worship space is packed. It is energetic and enthusiastic. People are there because they really love Jesus. Worship ends, and another student taps me on the shoulder. Brooke, he says, I just have to tell you, God’s laying this on my heart, I’m worried about your salvation.
Wait. I’m Lutheran. We aren’t a people who can worry about our salvation. We can’t do it, because we know once we start we’ll never stop. So we give all the stuff of salvation over to God. That’s what my people do- we trust in grace alone. We don’t worry.
For the writer of Salvation on the Small Screen, and for myself, I must tell you, I would really like to get some of the disciples from our gospel today with me to say, “We saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he is not with us!” I’d like to get a little Joshua response from our Old Testament lesson and say, “They don’t get to prophesy! Lord you must stop them!”
For those of us that gather here Sunday after Sunday, my deep hope is that we are Lutheran for a reason. It isn’t just because this is the closest church and we don’t want to have to walk too far on a Sunday morning. I hope that in this place we have found a way of seeing God that seems true, that bears the fruits of the spirit, that soothes our souls and connects us with something bigger than ourselves. I’m a Lutheran pastor because I love being a Lutheran- I love living into the questions, I love that we don’t know all the answers, we have such a deep theological tradition that I really can’t imagine being anything else.
The disciples and I are of the same tribe. They are nine chapters into the gospel of Mark, and even if they keep getting confused and they always seem to be one step behind, they aren’t going anywhere yet. They are following Jesus, even when he keeps telling them things they don’t want to hear. They want to be with him, maybe even be like him.
So, no surprise, when someone starts casting out demons in Jesus’ name they are the first to put a stop to that crazy business. You don’t get to do that unless you are with us, you don’t get to do that unless you are one of us. I mean, how is Jesus supposed to know that these demon casters are even good theologians? How is he supposed to know that they are worthy of the ability to cast out demons? We must remember, only a few scenes earlier in our text, the disciples themselves couldn’t cast a demon out, so how can these outsiders be doing the business of disciples?
It’s pretty scary when we get a glimpse into the methods God will use to bring about the kingdom. It’s pretty scary to look straight in the face of someone who is worried about my salvation because I’m a bit too liberal, and realize that God is going to use him, just like God uses me to bring about God’s purpose for the world. God is going to use the Lutherans and the evangelicals and everyone else in between, and that is a hard truth, because it means that those holes in our theology? They are getting filled by someone else. Those thin parts of our tradition? Someone else might be getting it a bit closer to right than us.
But, that does not mean that anything goes. I can tell you, if you leave this sanctuary this morning and start quizzing people at work about their salvation, you’ve probably missed the point. Because, there are consequences, and Jesus makes them all sound pretty harsh. Cut off your hand, pluck out your eye, cut off your leg. Put a millstone around your neck and jump in Lake Michigan. Cause a little one to stumble, and it would be better to lose your tongue than continue on that path.
This is the part I would rather ignore. Jesus just sounds harsh. He is demanding and serious, and not warm and fuzzy and holding babies like last week. There is fire and salt, and body part plucking. Jesus sounds like he should be the first one in line to tell that renegade demon caster that he better get with them or he is against them. Jesus is not kidding around when it comes to sin, and the stumbling of believers.
This is serious stuff, the stuff of sin and relationship to one another. The stuff of God’s kingdom and the ways that we break our relationships with others and with God. How serious? Serious enough that we ought to be cutting off those parts of ourselves that cause others to stumble, serious enough that we don’t just pretend everything is okay, we know that we get it wrong again and again and again. Law and gospel is the stuff of our lives- and the law is not a teeny tiny blip on the screen- we ought not live in ways that break down our neighbors, that silence them and cut them off from God, we ought not teach in ways that break relationship with God, or reinforce sins of injustice. But along with that law, we always see gospel. The Gospel of freedom, the gospel of promise, the gospel that is our salvation.
God uses all of us, broken sinners with incorrect teaching and broken relationships. God uses us, even when we seek to silence one another. Knowing who God is, and how far God will go, and who gets to be in the circle with us, it is pretty scary stuff. As in the book of Numbers, the Lord has put the spirit on you, on me, on our friends who disagree with us, and on disciples who just don’t get it. And for that, with fear and faith, we say, thanks be to God. Amen.
Sermon- 16th Sunday after Pentecost
The Gospel According to Mark 9:30-37
30 They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; 31for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.’ 32But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.
Who Is the Greatest?
33 Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, ‘What were you arguing about on the way?’ 34But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. 35He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’ 36Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, 37‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.
“You faithless generation- how much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you?”
They were afraid. They were afraid, and they seem to be afraid pretty much all the time. Perhaps it is because it was only one scene earlier when Jesus said that to them, ‘how much longer must I put up with you?’ At every turn, these twelve disciples just don’t understand. They just don’t believe. They just can’t figure him out. And Jesus is starting to get a little short with them. How much longer must I put up with you?
He is talking about dying again. They still don’t understand, it is a bit of a refrain in the gospel of Mark. Jesus tells them what is in store, and they don’t really know what he is talking about. But, surely they remember him yelling at them only moments earlier, when a little boy lay sick and possessed by a demon, foaming at the mouth and writhing on the ground. The disciples can’t cast it out. They don’t know why. Jesus makes it look so simple. And then Jesus is stern with them, and they still don’t know what they have done wrong, and it just gets more confusing and so they stop talking.
Well, that is not exactly true. They stop talking about Jesus dying. They stop asking questions. When they don’t understand, instead of confessing him to be the Messiah like Peter last week, those gathered disciples remain silent. They are afraid to say anything, because they seem to keep landing on the wrong thing. They are afraid to ask Jesus, because he seems tired of their questions and they never seem to get it right.
So, because the dying stuff seems to be the most confusing, the disciples choose to take the silent approach. But, they aren’t ready to remain silent on all questions. In fact, on their walk from Galilee to Capernum, they are having a pretty heated argument- about who is the greatest.
Bizarre, right? I mean, who among us walks with a friend and lists out all those things that make us the greatest? We’re smart, charming, earn a good salary, volunteer for the right committees, have a happy family, find time to go to the gym… this is not the way we have been raised to talk about ourselves. Who among us wonders if they are the greatest? But, argue on this point those disciples do.
Who among them is the greatest? We don’t know if they resolve the argument, or if they are each harboring one really great comeback to defend or assert their position when Jesus asks them what they have been talking about. Silence. When it comes to telling Jesus what is knocking around in their heads, nothing seems to come out of their mouths. Maybe because they are afraid again. Afraid to ask the wrong questions, say the wrong things, not get it one more time.
It is easy to get afraid these days. There is a fair amount of fear going around in the larger Lutheran church. Not too many weeks ago, the greater church made some decisions regarding sexuality that are pretty tough for some to swallow. As I heard speakers at that churchwide assembly, many of them cried because it felt like the church they knew has been ripped away from them. But, other speakers would come to the microphone and cry because it felt as if the church they loved left them high and dry once they thought about bringing their same sex partner around to worship.
The fear has been building for a long time. Fear for some that the church will split in half, that we won’t be the people we have always been. Fear for others that they just can’t take another no, they just can’t take another disappointment, they just can’t deny their call to ministry and their sexual orientation anymore.
The fear is building. Some people are talking about leaving, some churches are wondering if they can still be a part of the ELCA anymore. The fear is building. Some are talking about death. The death of our faith. The death of the ELCA. Some say it is inevitable. Others suggest that we have just taken the first step toward being the church Jesus calls us to be.
When the fear builds, it seems like some of us get a little silent, and start the wrong conversation. We start talking about which churches are the most accepting, which churches are the most progressive, which churches are stuck in the past, which ones are inevitably going to leave. Urban, rural, suburban, inner city. The lines get drawn. Who is happy and who is sad? Who is angry and who rejoices? Who is the greatest at welcoming? Who is the greatest at remaining true to the gospel?
We might not be willing to say it out loud, but a lot of us are talking about who is the greatest among us, and we’re missing the point. It isn’t about who is growing and who is dying. It is easy to spend our time talking about growth rates when we’re just plain afraid. It is easy to make lists and congratulate ourselves or think longer and harder about snappy comebacks for those who disagree with us.
Ordering ourselves when we are afraid is the easiest of things. Marking our territory, making a list of who is in and who is out makes the fear a little less poignant, a little less severe. Congratulating ourselves or wondering if now is time to walk away doesn’t help us to live into the fear, it just makes its boundaries even more clear.
Jesus tells those disciples, that all the ordering, all the one-upping, all the self-congratulation, it really isn’t the main thing anymore. The main thing is being a servant. The main thing is being last of all, not first. The main thing isn’t self-congratulation, but self-service.
They sit around him, and Jesus takes a child and puts it in their midst. It seems like it must be a pretty cute scene, right? A baby held in the arms of Jesus, welcomed into the circle. But it isn’t meant to be cute. It isn’t meant to be cuddly. Children, in the ancient world, were the most disposable of commodities, they often didn’t live into adulthood, and weren’t of much value until they could serve the family. So Jesus isn’t giving these disciples a lesson in loving babies, he’s giving them a lesson in seeing the world through new eyes. If they are looking for Jesus, they ought to be looking to those on the outside of the circle. That’s where he is going to be. That’s where God is going to be.
The fear turns us in on ourselves, but Jesus isn’t having any of that. Those left out in the cold, those who can’t see God anymore, it is in their company that Jesus is going to be hanging out. Because that is what he does- that’s the kind of God he is. Not the God of the self-congratulators, but a God of the losers and the broken.
After the votes made by our larger church, many wept openly. I was certainly getting out the Kleenex myself. I couldn’t help but cry for my brothers and sisters who finally feel like they have a place here. And I couldn’t help but cry for my brothers and sisters who were walking out. Who couldn’t stay with us anymore. It isn’t about ordering who won and who lost. It isn’t about that at all. It is about seeing the fear and the uncertainty in our future, and living in the midst of all of it. Holding our brothers and sisters in pain and in joy, and being a community with all of them. Finding Jesus in the midst of all of them. Not because anyone is the greatest, but because all are broken, and need a God exactly like ours. A God who hangs out with the lost, the ignored and the broken, who is found always with the last and the least. Amen, and thanks be to God.
30 They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; 31for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.’ 32But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.
Who Is the Greatest?
33 Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, ‘What were you arguing about on the way?’ 34But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest. 35He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, ‘Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.’ 36Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, 37‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.
“You faithless generation- how much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you?”
They were afraid. They were afraid, and they seem to be afraid pretty much all the time. Perhaps it is because it was only one scene earlier when Jesus said that to them, ‘how much longer must I put up with you?’ At every turn, these twelve disciples just don’t understand. They just don’t believe. They just can’t figure him out. And Jesus is starting to get a little short with them. How much longer must I put up with you?
He is talking about dying again. They still don’t understand, it is a bit of a refrain in the gospel of Mark. Jesus tells them what is in store, and they don’t really know what he is talking about. But, surely they remember him yelling at them only moments earlier, when a little boy lay sick and possessed by a demon, foaming at the mouth and writhing on the ground. The disciples can’t cast it out. They don’t know why. Jesus makes it look so simple. And then Jesus is stern with them, and they still don’t know what they have done wrong, and it just gets more confusing and so they stop talking.
Well, that is not exactly true. They stop talking about Jesus dying. They stop asking questions. When they don’t understand, instead of confessing him to be the Messiah like Peter last week, those gathered disciples remain silent. They are afraid to say anything, because they seem to keep landing on the wrong thing. They are afraid to ask Jesus, because he seems tired of their questions and they never seem to get it right.
So, because the dying stuff seems to be the most confusing, the disciples choose to take the silent approach. But, they aren’t ready to remain silent on all questions. In fact, on their walk from Galilee to Capernum, they are having a pretty heated argument- about who is the greatest.
Bizarre, right? I mean, who among us walks with a friend and lists out all those things that make us the greatest? We’re smart, charming, earn a good salary, volunteer for the right committees, have a happy family, find time to go to the gym… this is not the way we have been raised to talk about ourselves. Who among us wonders if they are the greatest? But, argue on this point those disciples do.
Who among them is the greatest? We don’t know if they resolve the argument, or if they are each harboring one really great comeback to defend or assert their position when Jesus asks them what they have been talking about. Silence. When it comes to telling Jesus what is knocking around in their heads, nothing seems to come out of their mouths. Maybe because they are afraid again. Afraid to ask the wrong questions, say the wrong things, not get it one more time.
It is easy to get afraid these days. There is a fair amount of fear going around in the larger Lutheran church. Not too many weeks ago, the greater church made some decisions regarding sexuality that are pretty tough for some to swallow. As I heard speakers at that churchwide assembly, many of them cried because it felt like the church they knew has been ripped away from them. But, other speakers would come to the microphone and cry because it felt as if the church they loved left them high and dry once they thought about bringing their same sex partner around to worship.
The fear has been building for a long time. Fear for some that the church will split in half, that we won’t be the people we have always been. Fear for others that they just can’t take another no, they just can’t take another disappointment, they just can’t deny their call to ministry and their sexual orientation anymore.
The fear is building. Some people are talking about leaving, some churches are wondering if they can still be a part of the ELCA anymore. The fear is building. Some are talking about death. The death of our faith. The death of the ELCA. Some say it is inevitable. Others suggest that we have just taken the first step toward being the church Jesus calls us to be.
When the fear builds, it seems like some of us get a little silent, and start the wrong conversation. We start talking about which churches are the most accepting, which churches are the most progressive, which churches are stuck in the past, which ones are inevitably going to leave. Urban, rural, suburban, inner city. The lines get drawn. Who is happy and who is sad? Who is angry and who rejoices? Who is the greatest at welcoming? Who is the greatest at remaining true to the gospel?
We might not be willing to say it out loud, but a lot of us are talking about who is the greatest among us, and we’re missing the point. It isn’t about who is growing and who is dying. It is easy to spend our time talking about growth rates when we’re just plain afraid. It is easy to make lists and congratulate ourselves or think longer and harder about snappy comebacks for those who disagree with us.
Ordering ourselves when we are afraid is the easiest of things. Marking our territory, making a list of who is in and who is out makes the fear a little less poignant, a little less severe. Congratulating ourselves or wondering if now is time to walk away doesn’t help us to live into the fear, it just makes its boundaries even more clear.
Jesus tells those disciples, that all the ordering, all the one-upping, all the self-congratulation, it really isn’t the main thing anymore. The main thing is being a servant. The main thing is being last of all, not first. The main thing isn’t self-congratulation, but self-service.
They sit around him, and Jesus takes a child and puts it in their midst. It seems like it must be a pretty cute scene, right? A baby held in the arms of Jesus, welcomed into the circle. But it isn’t meant to be cute. It isn’t meant to be cuddly. Children, in the ancient world, were the most disposable of commodities, they often didn’t live into adulthood, and weren’t of much value until they could serve the family. So Jesus isn’t giving these disciples a lesson in loving babies, he’s giving them a lesson in seeing the world through new eyes. If they are looking for Jesus, they ought to be looking to those on the outside of the circle. That’s where he is going to be. That’s where God is going to be.
The fear turns us in on ourselves, but Jesus isn’t having any of that. Those left out in the cold, those who can’t see God anymore, it is in their company that Jesus is going to be hanging out. Because that is what he does- that’s the kind of God he is. Not the God of the self-congratulators, but a God of the losers and the broken.
After the votes made by our larger church, many wept openly. I was certainly getting out the Kleenex myself. I couldn’t help but cry for my brothers and sisters who finally feel like they have a place here. And I couldn’t help but cry for my brothers and sisters who were walking out. Who couldn’t stay with us anymore. It isn’t about ordering who won and who lost. It isn’t about that at all. It is about seeing the fear and the uncertainty in our future, and living in the midst of all of it. Holding our brothers and sisters in pain and in joy, and being a community with all of them. Finding Jesus in the midst of all of them. Not because anyone is the greatest, but because all are broken, and need a God exactly like ours. A God who hangs out with the lost, the ignored and the broken, who is found always with the last and the least. Amen, and thanks be to God.
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