The Call to Serve: Authority and a Few Other Things

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father; from Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior; and from the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

These are unusual times we are living in, aren’t they? Such dramatic change in just a week. The cancellation of major festivals, major sporting events, school classes, even worship. A declaration of a world-wide pandemic. Travel restrictions. The shutting down of offices and other buildings. The upheaval in the stock market and the oil market. It might almost feel for us as though we are in the midst of a cosmic change. 

Similarly, the direction of my sermon has changed dramatically from where I first started. Because everything is just changing. Quickly. So, today, I’m going to touch on six different topics that may seem completely unrelated. It is my hope (and my prayer!) that, by the end, I will have been able to weave them together. So, here they are: Authority. Vineyards. Economic systems. David Brooks. Pandemics. And Luther (and a little bit of Bonhoeffer!). 

Topic number one. Authority. The question of authority is at the heart of our text today. It isn’t part of our Gospel reading, but, if you back up to the very end of chapter 11, to the part that just precedes today’s reading, the questions that Jesus is asked by the chief priests, the legal experts, and the elders - in other words, the religious leaders. The two questions they ask of Jesus are: “What kind of authority do you have for doing these things? And who gave it to you?”

You see, since the very beginning of Mark, Jesus has been throwing his authority around all over the place. Healing people who are sick. Restoring sight to the blind. Releasing demons from people. (Demons, who, by the way, know and recognize Jesus’ authority.) The authority of Jesus has been oozing out all over the place. So, when he is asked this question by the religious leaders about his authority, his response is to tell them a parable. About a vineyard. 

Jesus spoke to them in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the winepress, and built a tower. Then he rented it to tenant farmers and took a trip. When it was time, he sent a servant to collect from the tenants his share of the fruit of the vineyard. But they grabbed the servant, beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. Again the landowner sent another servant to them, but they struck him on the head and treated him disgracefully. He sent another one; that one they killed. The landlord sent many other servants, but the tenants beat some and killed others. Now the landowner had one son whom he loved dearly. He sent him last, thinking, They will respect my son. But those tenant farmers said to each other, ‘This is the heir. Let’s kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ They grabbed him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard.

“So what will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy those tenants and give the vineyard to others. Haven’t you read this scripture, The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. The Lord has done this, and it’s amazing in our eyes?”

They wanted to arrest Jesus because they knew that he had told the parable against them. But they were afraid of the crowd, so they left him and went away. --Mark 12:1-12. 

Topic number two. Vineyards. The image of a vineyard is common in scripture. I counted it up yesterday and the word is used 118 times through both testaments. In the Hebrew scripture, there are 95 references alone to the imagery of vineyards. Last fall, we heard a love song about a vineyard in Isaiah 5. Well, really, it was a break up song about a vineyard and its owner, where Israel was portrayed metaphorically as the well-tended, but unproductive vineyard of Yahweh. 

Would it surprise you to learn that the description of the vineyard in today’s reading is the same description as the one in Isaiah, which was a vineyard with a pit for a winepress and a watchtower?Planted by a man who characterizes the vineyard as his beloved Israel. This beloved community that he has cared for and guided and served. And that has responded, in turn, with injustice and bloodshed.

In Mark’s gospel parable, there’s still a landowner. And a vineyard. But there’s a little twist, added characters to the story. Tenant farmers. And slaves. And a son.

Now, we with our 21st century understanding, might be a little offended by this parable and, particularly, of the imbalance of power between the wealthy landowner and the tenant farmers, who are really sharecroppers. But, if we remember that parables use common elements that are understood by the audience to teach them something they don’t understand, we have to look at this parable with first century eyes.

Because this practice was common under Roman rule. It even has a term connected to it - latifundia. These were great landed estates specializing in crops for export, such as grain, olive oil, or wine. They were the closest example in ancient times to our industrialized agriculture. And their economics depended entirely upon slavery.

Topic number three. Economic systems. If this economic system of Rome sounds familiar, it should. Because, it’s a practice that has been carried down through centuries. Such as by European monarchies who often gave large grants of land to reward services by people to them or their empire - exactly how parts of the US were settled. It’s a model we learned well as we created a similar economy built on slavery. On people. Human beings imported as chattel to prop up and sustain unjust economic systems. That pit poor people against other poor people. That benefit the wealthy. Economic systems that still persist today. 

Whatever we understand about this vineyard, it is clear that something is amiss. That there is a power struggle happening here. Between the owner and the tenants. First, the tenants try to flip the power. Then, the owner takes back the power and gets in new tenants.

Now, I have to stop for just a moment and make a corrective here. For way too long this parable has been used as a parable to talk about the end of Israel as God’s beloved and Christians as the “new tenants” in the story. That the Jews had their shot and now it's time for Christians. This is simply wrong. And hurtful. Because there’s an interesting word in verse 9. The word translated “destroy.” In Greek, it’s a term that is used to describe the destruction of evil as a result of an apocalyptic upheaval. Its use here suggests that the destruction carried out by the landowner is not about a people, but a cosmic battle between good and evil. And that Jesus, the cornerstone, is in the midst of this battle. A battle that will result in the destruction of evil and of evil systems that continue to exploit people and creation. 

And, if you still don’t think that this parable is about economic systems, then look at the very next part of the story. When the religious leaders realize that Jesus is talking about them, they get angry and they want to arrest and destroy him, but they can’t because of the crowd. So, they send others to entrap him. By talking about nothing other than money. And taxes. Boom.

They sent some of the Pharisees and supporters of Herod to trap him in his words. They came to him and said, “Teacher, we know that you’re genuine and you don’t worry about what people think. You don’t show favoritism but teach God’s way as it really is. Does the Law allow people to pay taxes to Caesar or not? Should we pay taxes or not?”

Since Jesus recognized their deceit, he said to them, “Why are you testing me? Bring me a coin. Show it to me.” And they brought one. He said to them, “Whose image and inscription is this?”

“Caesar’s,” they replied.

Jesus said to them, “Give to Caesar what belongs to Caesar and to God what belongs to God.” His reply left them overcome with wonder. --Mark 12:13-17. 

The religious leaders send two groups - Pharisees and Herodians - who approach Jesus with flattery and false praise, and then hit him up with a question to which there is no good answer. And Jesus knows it. So, he answers with a non-answer. But, first, he asks them for a coin. And they give him a Roman coin, with a picture of Caesar on it. By giving him this coin, they implicate themselves - that they have bought into an economy that they decry. Because, as Jesus points out, if you participate in an economy, then you have a responsibility. To pay taxes.

But, do you notice that Jesus doesn’t have a coin with the image of Caesar in his pocket? Is this a message that, perhaps, he is rejecting the entire economy of the empire, particularly one that exploits the poor? 

Which brings me to topics number four and five. David Brooks and Pandemics. On Thursday, conservative columnist David Brooks wrote in the NY Times about what pandemics do. How they drive people apart. Because in these moments, fear can drive people. It can drive us away from each other as the possibility of death drives away concern for no one but ourselves and our loved ones. Witness the hoarding and panic buying over these past few days. Witness the privilege that allows us to be able to afford to hoard, when we know that pandemic always hits the poorest and most vulnerable in our community the hardest. All out of fear.

But, it’s not only fear that drives people in times of pandemic. So does shame. Because in the midst of pandemic, hard, life-and-death choices have to be made. They’re being made today. By doctors in Italy, for example, who because of a limited number of ventilators, are having to decide who gets one and who doesn’t.

But, these hard choices are not all that drives shame. As Brooks was researching the 1918 flu pandemic for his column, he was surprised by how few books or plays had been written about it. He wrote that roughly 675,000 American lost their lives in that one year, compared with 53,000 dead in the four-year period of World War 1. Yet, little was written about it. It seemed to leave almost no mark in culture. Why? Because, when it was over, people would not talk about it because they were ashamed at how they had responded. With one exception. Healthcare workers. Who responded then, as they do today, with heroism and compassion.

Which brings me to my final topic. Number six. Luther. (And that little bit of Bonhoeffer!) In 1527, ten years after the Reformation, the bubonic plague, which had been winding its way through Europe, struck Wittenberg, Germany. The political leader of this area, Elector John, fearing for the safety of Luther and the other professors at Wittenberg University, ordered them to leave town. Luther, along with another professor, refused. Instead he stayed to minister to those who were sick and frightened. Seventeen days later, there were 18 deaths, including the wife of the mayor, who died in Luther’s arms. Eventually, the plague receded. Yet soon after, clergy from a neighboring town now affected by it, wrote him a letter to ask his advice. Whether they should stay to serve the community or whether they should leave to preserve their own lives.

Here’s what he had to say. “This I well know, that if it were Christ or his mother who were laid low by illness, everybody would be so solicitous and would gladly become a servant or helper. Everyone would want to be bold and fearless; nobody would flee but everyone would come running….If you wish to serve Christ and to wait on him, very well, you have your sick neighbor close at hand. Go to him and serve him, and you will surely find Christ in him….”

In addition, he also said was that, in the process of serving our neighbor, we were to use our brains. To follow careful safety precautions. To use care to prohibit spread. All of the things that we are doing today.

Now, just a little bit of Bonhoeffer. After being arrested, Bonhoeffer was imprisoned for some time as he awaited his fate. It was in this time that he truly began to reflect what it meant to be human. And to be true community. To be a beloved community. He wrote: "To be Christian does not mean to live in a specified religious way...but, it means to be human, not a particular human type. Christ creates true humanity in us. It is not religious acts that a Christian does, but participation in the suffering of Christ in worldly life.” 

Dear friends, we are in unusual times. Are they part of some apocalyptic cosmic change to overturn unjust economic systems in our world? I don’t know. But, what I do know is that we have been created to be in beloved community with one another and with the world, especially where there is suffering, because this is where we will find Christ. We have been called to serve those here in our congregation and in the world who are most vulnerable and at risk. To take care to stop the spread of this disease. And, mostly, to love and support one another in this time of fear and anxiety. 

We do this, not because it will gain us salvation, but because salvation has already been gained for us. By God’s authority in Christ, who is our chief cornerstone and our true vine. Who frees us and, then, nourishes us so that we might go out into the world and with the Holy Spirit beside us bear fruit in the beloved vineyard of God. 

May God guide and keep us in this time. Amen.

Preached during virtual worship on Sunday, March 15, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Lent 3
Reading: Mark 12:1-17

The Call to Serve: Amazed and Afraid

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God, our Father, and from Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior. Amen.

Amazed and afraid. This is how our text opens today. The disciples are amazed and afraid.

Since we moved into the New Testament and into the Gospel of Mark, we have heard a number of stories, which we’re going to take a moment to review. I’d like you to put yourself in the place of the disciples and others following Jesus. How would you have felt if you had experienced each of these things? We’re going to add a little movement to this. So, if you would have felt amazed, throw your hands up in the air in amazement. If you would have been afraid, put your hands over your head and duck down, as if you are hiding. If you’re a combination of the two, I’ll leave it up to you what you do.

So, how would you have felt if you were there when:

• Jesus is baptized and Spirit descends on him?
• Jesus heals the man lowered through the roof on a mat?
• Jesus compares the kingdom of God to a mustard seed?
• Jesus casts out demons from a man?
• Jesus predicts his own suffering and death?
• Jesus is transfigured on the mountain?

All of these stories are about the power of God’s kingdom, which was our focus before Lent began. As we have been learning since Ash Wednesday, today Jesus teaches us what it means to be a part of God's kingdom - what it means to serve. I invite you to follow along as I read from Mark, chapter 10, beginning with verse 32.

They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, “See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.”

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”

When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way. --Mark 10:32-52 (NRSV)

This chapter in Mark is, as one theologian puts it, “the third revolution of a tripartite.” Tripartite is a really fancy word for three-part. Here in Mark 10 is the third time we have seen this three-part cycle. Once in Mark 8. Again in Mark 9. And now in Mark chapter 10.

Each cycle begins with Jesus attempting to teach the disciples what will happen to him once they reach Jerusalem. Then, the disciples show in some way that they have not understood. (One theologian characterizes this as “If the disciples don’t at first perceive, fail, fail again!) Then, after each misunderstanding, Jesus teaches them about discipleship and shows them what it is to be one of his disciples. 

In today’s story, we have this very same pattern. Jesus and the disciples have begun the walk up to Jerusalem. We read, as I mentioned before, that the disciples were both amazed and afraid. One wonders what was driving these feelings. The disciples were not unaware of the hostility Jesus would meet in Jerusalem. They’d already had a taste of it in the countryside. Perhaps they were afraid for Jesus. Or, perhaps (and more likely) they were afraid for themselves. Then, perhaps, they were amazed because of those mind-blowing, awe-filled miracles of Jesus. Miracles that they had had difficulty performing themselves. One wonders why. Was it a lack of faith on their part? 

Whatever it was, we know that they did not yet fully get the “why” of Jesus. Like the healing of the blind man preceding this entire three-part series, the first time doesn’t stick. It seems as though this is a metaphor for the disciples and their own understanding. That as much as Jesus teaches them about his upcoming passion, as much detail as Jesus goes into this third time - how he will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, then condemned to death, then handed over the Romans who will mock him, who will spit on him, who will flog him, who will kill him - as much as Jesus teaches them, they don’t get it.  They don’t get that his sacrifice, that his humility and service is to be their example. 

We see this in part two of today’s story.

James and John. Just like when your children or grandchildren come up to you and say, “Promise me you’ll give me what I ask for,” James and John are no different. They approach Jesus in the same way. When they ask Jesus for the favor, Jesus says to them,” What do you want me to do for you?” Their answer is our clue to knowing that they don’t get it. That they think that, even if they are good disciples here on this earth, they are going to make sure that in the next life they will be at the seat of power. On either side of the triumphant Jesus. 

And, if we thought that maybe it was only these two who didn’t get it, soon we hear that the other disciples are angry at them. Likely because James and John beat them to it. They all fail to perceive. To understand that the Son of Man, this Messiah, has come, not to be served, but to serve. And to give his life for them. 

Interestingly, the close of this three-part series is a healing of the blind man. Sound familiar? It's how the entire tripartite began. This time it's Bartimaeus. The only subject of Jesus’ healing who is named throughout all of Mark. It is Bartimaeus who will show the disciples what discipleship is.

Let’s contrast him with the Twelve. He immediately calls Jesus the Son of Man. A Messianic title. (Remember the promise to David that the Messiah, his descendent, would remain forever on the throne?) Bartimaeus knows who Jesus is. And Jesus asks him as he had just asked James and John, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Then, look at what he asks for. Not power or prestige. But a basic need. His sight. And, then, after Jesus calls to him, in his exuberance to run to Jesus, he casts off his outer cloak. That thing that is keeping him from Jesus. Because he sees the life-giving power of Jesus. And, after he is healed, he immediately begins to follow Jesus.

Bartimaeus is a direct contrast to the disciples. The disciples seek status. They are so blind, but don’t even see their own blindness. Bartimaeus simply seeks mercy. And, although he is physically blind, he is the one who has 20/20 spiritual vision. He sees Jesus. And he is willing to follow Jesus on the way. On the path of sacrifice.

Friends, what do you want Jesus to do for you? Is it all about you? Is your focus internal and on getting those things you want for yourself? Or is it about sacrifice, about serving others? With a focus that is external, that is about showing mercy and grace to others in the very same way Jesus shows it to us?

We are in frightening times, in this time of a possible world-wide pandemic. How will we respond? Will our focus be on ourselves? On hoarding food and supplies - hand sanitizer, toilet paper, and masks, as examples - for ourselves? Or will our focus be on living as the disciples Jesus desires us to be? Serving others. Being a non-anxious presence in a very fearful world. 

“Whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.” This is who Jesus calls us to be. To not be afraid and focused on self. But, to turn to our neighbor and to those who are the most vulnerable, to serve in our community. Then, to simply be amazed at the healing and life-giving power of Christ in our midst.  

May God grant this. Amen.

Preached March 8, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church.
Lent 2
Readings: Mark 10:32-52; Isaiah 53:3-6; Psalm 34:11-22

The Call to Serve: The Eye of the Needle

As Jesus continued down the road, a man ran up, knelt before him, and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to obtain eternal life?”

Jesus replied, “Why do you call me good? No one is good except the one God. You know the commandments: Don’t commit murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t give false testimony. Don’t cheat. Honor your father and mother.”

“Teacher,” he responded, “I’ve kept all of these things since I was a boy.”

Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. He said, “You are lacking one thing. Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor. Then you will have treasure in heaven. And come, follow me.” But the man was dismayed at this statement and went away saddened, because he had many possessions.

Looking around, Jesus said to his disciples, “It will be very hard for the wealthy to enter God’s kingdom!” His words startled the disciples, so Jesus told them again, “Children, it’s difficult to enter God’s kingdom! It’s easier for a camel to squeeze through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter God’s kingdom.”

They were shocked even more and said to each other, “Then who can be saved?”

Jesus looked at them carefully and said, “It’s impossible with human beings, but not with God. All things are possible for God.”

Peter said to him, “Look, we’ve left everything and followed you.”

Jesus said, “I assure you that anyone who has left house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, or farms because of me and because of the good news will receive one hundred times as much now in this life—houses, brothers, sisters, mothers, children, and farms (with harassment)—and in the coming age, eternal life. But many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first.”

--Mark 10:17-31 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God, our Father; Christ, our Savior, and the Holy Spirit, our Advocate and Comforter. Amen.

I have an honest question for you. Over my past few sermons have I seemed just a little angry to you? If you said no, I’d say you were being too kind. If you said yes, I would have to agree with you. 

There are just times - perhaps you’ve experienced them, too - when I just feel angry at the world. Maybe it’s the political situation. Maybe it’s the research and study I’ve been doing these past few weeks, as I’ve been learning about the ways we have damaged our environment. Maybe it’s the weather, as I long for warmer days and sunshine. Maybe it’s just life in general.  

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s these darn disciples in Mark. Do they frustrate you like they frustrate me? They always seem so clueless. Even though Jesus is standing right in front of them. There are times when I want to reach into Scripture and just shake them and say, “Wake up, you idiots! Wake up!”

But I’ve learned from experience that, most often, when I am angry at the world, it’s often not because of what is happening externally. Instead, it’s usually my own stuff. Things that are going on internally. Remember what Jesus said to the disciples and to us just a few weeks ago? That evil things don’t come from the outside, but that they begin inside and contaminate us.

But, more on this in a few minutes. Let’s turn to today’s story.

It’s important that we understand the structure of this part of Mark. Last week, we heard Peter’s confession that Jesus was the Christ. I mentioned that, just before this lesson, there is a healing by Jesus. Of a man who is blind. It takes Jesus two tries to heal this man. 

Immediately after, we have the story we heard last week - of Peter’s confession. It’s at this point that Jesus begins to teach the disciples about what will happen to him. To begin to help them understand “why” Jesus, the Christ, has come to earth. And to cement Jesus’ teaching, he is transfigured on the mountain and the voice from heaven speaks to the disciples, telling them to listen to Jesus.

But, still, they don’t get it. Like the blind man, they don’t understand on the first try. Or even the second. Because, this past Wednesday, we heard the story of the disciples and their argument on the road headed to Jerusalem. The argument about which one of them is the best!  And we heard Jesus’ response - that whoever wants to be first in the kingdom of God, must be last. Then, to illustrate his point, Jesus takes a child in his arms and says to them that God's kingdom belongs to people like these. Like children. Who, as we learned, in Jesus’ day had no status at all and were likely to die before reaching adulthood.

This story immediately precedes our story today. Jesus is walking on the road to Jerusalem. Suddenly, a man runs up, asking what must he do to inherit eternal life. He seems respectful and sincere, even when Jesus tells him - good Jew that Jesus is - that he must keep the entire law. And we hear the man respond that he has kept all of it since he was a boy. He seems truly sincere. 

It’s at this point, that I’m always blown away by Jesus’ response. In verse 21. “Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. We’ve heard Jesus rebuke the disciples when they didn’t get it. One has to wonder why Jesus doesn’t unload on this fellow. But, for some reason, Jesus just looks at him intently. And then he loves him.

It’s pretty convicting, isn’t it? At least, it is for me. Especially as I’ve been so angry at these disciples, who just seem to get it. It reminds me of the times when I would get frustrated with my son growing up, when he just wouldn’t get things either. And I’d scold him. Then, he’d look at me with such a hurt look on his face that I often ended up apologizing to him and picking him up, then, and hugging him. But, Jesus? He looks at the man and he loves him.

I’ve been reading a book titled “30 Day Journey With St. Hildegard of Bingen.” Hildegard was a female Christian leader in the medieval church, one of several who we today call the Medieval Mystics. She received visions from God and, eventually, wrote extensively about them, also founding an abbey for nuns in Bingen, Germany. She became very famous and corresponded with bishops and popes and even the major political leaders of her day. I’ve read some of her writing before and picked up this book especially because many of her themes relate to creation and to things in the natural world. So, I thought it would be a good way for me to prepare for our Lenten conversations around this same topic.

Earlier this week, I read an excerpt from a letter she wrote in the late 12th century. In it she refers to a world suffering from “already festering wounds” that is in dire need of healing. And that, if you apply scourges (a scourge is generally understood as a whip used to punish). If you apply scourges to an already festering wound, all you will do is bring forth poison mixed with blood. But to show mercy is to simply refrain from applying more scourges. 

Isn’t this what Jesus is doing to this man? He could easily have applied scourges to this man. Shaming him for his unwillingness to put Jesus first in his life by giving up all of his wealth to the poor. But, he doesn’t. Instead, Jesus looks at him intently. And loves him.

How often do we apply “scourges” to “already festering wounds” in our world today? A world that seems to be hurting so deeply, witnessed in part by the large number of mass shootings this year, one this past week. How often in a world that seems to be walking wounded do we respond like Jesus simply with love? I think it’s no accident that today’s story is preceded by the story of the little children. Because children have no wealth. They have no power. They have no advantage in our world. Yet, in the subversiveness of God’s world, their advantage is their helplessness. To not be possessed by those things that end up wounding us. Those things that lead us away from life. Instead, in their helplessness they simply believe. And trust. And love. 

Because, ultimately, it’s not our wealth that makes it hard to get into heaven. It’s our unwillingness to give up the things of this world that possess us, that draw us away from God. That keep us from passing through the eye of the needle.

So, what was making me so angry over these past few weeks. It’s because, in preparing my sermons, I myself was completely convicted. I like the disciples saw, but failed to perceive. Heard, but did not understand. Refused to allow my blind eyes to be opened. 

But, that’s the thing about Jesus. If his healing act doesn’t work the first time, he keeps trying it until our eyes are opened. Because, just as Jesus looked at the rich man, he looks at us. And loves us. And never gives up on us.

In this discipline of Lent, may we practice showing this same mercy to a world with festering wounds. By sacrificing. By loving. By trusting. Because Jesus promises that our childlike discipleship will not be futile. No matter how hard it may be. 

“Many who are first will be last. And the last will be first.” Amen.

Preached March 1, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY
Lent 1
Readings: Mark 10:17-31, Deuteronomy 8:11-14, Psalm 19:7-10

The Call to Serve: Being First

From there Jesus and his followers went through Galilee, but he didn’t want anyone to know it. This was because he was teaching his disciples, “The Human One will be delivered into human hands. They will kill him. Three days after he is killed he will rise up.” But they didn’t understand this kind of talk, and they were afraid to ask him.

They entered Capernaum. When they had come into a house, he asked them, “What were you arguing about during the journey?” They didn’t respond, since on the way they had been debating with each other about who was the greatest. He sat down, called the Twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be least of all and the servant of all.” Jesus reached for a little child, placed him among the Twelve, and embraced him. Then he said, “Whoever welcomes one of these children in my name welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me isn’t actually welcoming me but rather the one who sent me.” --Mark 9:30-37 (CEB)

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

When I was a child, my mother - as most mother’s do, I think - try to convince their children to eat everything that is on their plate.  (You’ll notice that I learned that lesson well!) One of my mom’s stock phrases to encourage us was to remind us that there were starving children in China. (Perhaps you heard this, too?) As my siblings and I got older, we used to mock my mom, asking her how not eating our food would help these starving Chinese children. Was she going to personally pack up our leftovers and ship them overseas? You can only imagine what a hard time we gave her!

Yet, there was truth behind this saying for her. It was about not wasting our food. The ultimate truth behind this statement was for us to learn to not use more than we needed. Notice, I said needed. And not wanted.

This difference between need and want was something I worked hard at with my own son. While I backed off pushing him to clean his plate, I still tried to teach him to make choices that were moderate choices. To only take as much food as he could actually eat. To live simply and frugally. And to remember that he was part of a vast earth filled with billions of people who were all interconnected and loved by God. And, yes, that wasting food was not a good thing, especially when we knew there we so many others out there who didn’t have as much or even anything to eat. 

Tonight, we come together on this first day of Lent. Ash Wednesday. When we will receive the ashes on our foreheads. And remember our eventual return to that from which we were made. Dust. Earth. And the breath of God. 

In Genesis 2, we hear how God created humankind after God had first made the rest of creation. Forming man out of the dust of the ground. Breathing into his nose the breath of life. If one looks closely at this verse in the Hebrew, we recognize that it’s a Hebrew pun. Adam, meaning human. Adamah, meaning dust of the ground. Humanity - we - are literally people of the dirt. 

We don’t like to think of ourselves this way. As “dirt people.” Instead, we like to think of ourselves as good. Often, as really good. Or, even the best. The best at what we do. At who we are. Particularly, at being the people of God. I wonder if it’s more cultural than anything else. After all, in our country, we’re all about being first, aren’t we? Maybe that’s why it’s no real surprise to us in tonight’s reading that the disciples are arguing over this very same question. About which one of them is greatest. Or the best. About which one of them is first. This, when just a few verses earlier, Jesus has been trying to teach them about the betrayal and death he will suffer by human hands. By the very hands of dirt people.

This is Jesus’ second of three teachings in Mark of his own death. Each time, scripture tells us that the disciples were agnoeo in Greek. Meaning, ignorant. Not understanding. One wonders if it was willful. Or perhaps it was just easier to remain ignorant. Because to face the truth of what the future would bring might be too frightening. We, as human beings, do not like to talk about death. Whether it is our own death, or the death of loved ones, or even the death of our eco-systems, we don’t like to talk about it, because to do so is to face the reality that everything and everyone eventually dies.

Maybe this is why we like to pretend that global warming isn’t happening, even though the evidence for it is all around us. Perhaps this is why we continue to engage in practices in our own lives that perpetuate it. Our insistence, for example, on continuing to use single-use plastics, even though we know the damage this has done to our environment. Our willful ignorance of our own carbon imprint and our unwillingness to change practices to mitigate it. Our resistance to electing political leaders who will begin to address the devastation we have brought upon our planet, much less even admit that we are the major cause of this, because admitting it would mean that, for us, just as for the disciples, being first is more important than anything else. Perhaps even more important than Jesus’ own sacrifice and death.

Notice that, in his response, Jesus turns the disciples to focus on the children. Children, who, in Jesus’ day had no status, when infant mortality rates often reached 30%, with another 30% of children dead by the age of six, and another 60% percent gone by the age of sixteen. Children always suffered first from famine, war, disease, and dislocation. Childhood in Jesus’ day was a time of terror. 

For many children in our world today, it is also a time of terror. Here in Kentucky alone, over 11 million children live in food insecure households. At least 4 million families with children are being exposed to high levels of lead. Fourteen million families are faced with water bills that they can no longer afford for water often contaminated with pollutants from pesticide, fertilizer runoff, or coal ash.  Those who are last in our world - children and other vulnerable populations - are much more likely than any others to experience the greatest negative effects of global warming. 

Do the disciples care about the children? Do we care about the children? And not just our own children and grandchildren. Do we care about the children in China as well as the rest of the world? Leah Schade writes that “How we treat the most vulnerable in human society...reveals our values. It’s also how we treat the most vulnerable in God’s creation. For example, if we look at a beautiful forested mountain and only value it for the coal or gas or oil beneath its surface and are willing to sacrifice [that mountain] for our short-term needs, then we are, in fact, not following God’s will for ourselves or our children. The well-being of children and the well-being of God’s creation are fundamentally linked.” 

This is why Ash Wednesday and Lent is so important for us. Because it is a season of coming in touch with our own sinfulness, our own need for redemption, and our own mortality. It’s a time for us to learn - to really learn - what it is to be people of the dirt. To be dust and ashes. To give up being first. To learn moderation, as my mother tried to teach us. To care for all of the children and the vulnerable in our world. And to realign ourselves with the earth from which we came and the breath of God which gives us life, before the "dust returns to the earth as it was before and the life-breath returns to God who gave it.”

Return, people of the dirt filled with God’s breath. It is time to return. Amen.

Preached February 26, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Ash Wednesday
Readings: Mark 9:30-37; Ecclesiastes 12:1-7; Psalm 32:1-5

The Power of the Kingdom: Who Are You?

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Welcome to Transfiguration Sunday and to the end of the Epiphany season! 

Several weeks ago, we talked about the meaning of this word, epiphany. Anyone want to venture a definition? An epiphany can be an idea, a new thought, perhaps even a new understanding. The season of Epiphany is quite similar. It’s a season of revelation, of stories that tell us who Jesus is.

If you think all the way back to early January, when we first moved into the gospel of Mark, do you remember how the gospel opened? “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Soon after, at Jesus’ baptism, we heard the voice from heaven speaking directly to Jesus - “You are my Son, the Beloved,” confirming that this Jesus is the Christ, the Anointed One, the Messiah long promised. We know this, but, so far only the demons have been able to figure it out, too. The disciples just don’t seem to get it.

This is likely why, in the story just before today’s reading, we witness Jesus healing a blind man. Twice. Because the first time, it doesn’t take. At least not fully. Like the blind man, the disciples are beginning to see, but not clearly. At least, not yet.

Then, we come to the first part of today’s lesson. From Mark, chapter 8. 

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” --Mark 8:27-33 (NRSV)

This portion of our reading, often called the “Confession of Peter,” is the literary hinge for the Gospel of Mark. It’s both an ending to the first half of the Gospel and an introduction to the second half.  We are transitioning from Galilee in the north in the first half to Jerusalem in the south in the second. After today’s story, we will begin this journey to the south. To Jerusalem. And to what awaits Jesus there. 

But it has been in Galilee where the main question that Jesus is being asked is “Who are you?” Soon the question will change to “Why are you here?” But, before this happens, Jesus is about to give the disciples a little quiz. To decide how good their sight is. Or isn’t.

“Who do people say that I am?” Jesus asks them.  Immediately, Peter jumps in with a response. “You are the Christ,” he says. We might applaud and cheer him for getting it so right. Except he has gotten it so wrong. Because, Peter doesn’t see. He doesn’t understand who this Jesus is. He has in his mind the traditional picture of the Messiah, of the Christ - a political figure who would wield power and authority and who would free the Jewish people from Roman occupation, restoring the line of King David. This is who Peter understands Jesus to be. It is a picture that he and many others have created in their minds as to what this Messiah will be like, adopting their own idea, rather than God’s idea. An image that is perhaps intensified by the fact that they are in Caesarea Philippi, named in honor of Emperor Augustus Caesar, and the seat of power for the Roman government in this region. 

Thus, we can easily understand why Peter, even after all the time spent with Jesus, would still believe that this was who Jesus was. Because it was this Messiah that fit who Peter was and what he really wanted. Peter and so many others.

Don’t we do the same thing? We fashion Jesus out of who we are and what we want in a savior. Maybe it’s a savior to swoop down and save us when we are done something foolish or made a bad choice. A savior of convenience, who we quickly forget then when things are better. 

Or maybe we try to co-opt Jesus for our own political ends. With both the political left and right in our country trying to claim (or reclaim) Jesus as their own. Each creating an image of the Jesus they want and then co-opting him for their own purposes. To defend their actions. To support a position. To  justify a cause.

Who are you? The answer to that question will identify what your Jesus looks like. Because chances are you, as I, have created Jesus in your image, for your own needs, and as you want him to be.
Just as Jesus did with Peter, he does with us. Rebuking us for thinking human thoughts instead of God’s thoughts.

Who is Jesus? What does it take to be his disciple? We, like Peter and the rest of the disciples, soon find this out. 

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” And he said to them, “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see that the kingdom of God has come with power.” --Mark 8:34-9:1 (NRSV)

Jesus tells us to take up our cross. To take up our instrument of death and follow him. Because, to be Jesus’ disciple means we must lose our lives. Our selves. And, particularly, our image of the Messiah as we want him to be. 

One wonders what Peter was thinking after all this. After his picture of who the Messiah was, of who Jesus was had been blown to smithereens. But, soon after, we find ourselves with him and other disciples in a mountaintop experience. 

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. --Mark 9:2-8 (NRSV)

If Peter had been confused before, think of how he felt now. As they watched Jesus transfigured. Saw his face glowing. His clothing turning bright. Witnessing the appearance of Elijah - that great prophet. And Moses - that great law giver. Jesus, surrounded symbolically by the “Law and the Prophets.” And the fulfillment of them. And then that voice from heaven. This time speaking directly to them. This is my Son. Listen to him! It’s no wonder Peter wanted to stay there. To bask in that experience for a little bit. To build a few tents and just camp out there. Because the words Jesus had spoken a few days before, about taking up one’s instrument of death, had stuck with him. Perhaps, terrified him a bit. Here, on the mountain top, he felt safe and secure, basking in the light of Jesus, the very Son of God. 

Sisters and brothers, just as our story today is a literary hinge in the Gospel of Mark, so this Transfiguration Sunday is a hinge between Epiphany and Lent. Between the revelation of who Jesus is and the answer to the question of why he has come. It’s tempting for us to want to stay here, on the mountaintop, where it feels safe and secure. Where we are centered. Where we, like Peter, bask in the glory of God. 

But, this is not who we have been called to be. Instead, we are called down off the mountain, into the messiness and grittiness of our daily lives. Into our communities. Freed as we are to be in service to this place. And, knowing that, as we journey, Jesus accompanies us as he did Peter and the disciples. Teaching us who he is, why he came, and reminding us who we are. Every step of every day for the rest of our lives, into all eternity.

May we bask in the light of our Savior this day. But, may we then gladly go out to be in service to all the world. Amen. 

Preached February 23, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
The Transfiguration of Our Lord
Readings: Mark 8:27-9:8; Malachi 4:4-6; Psalm 27:1-4

The Power of the Kingdom: What Makes Us Unclean

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

We’re going to continue our discussion around rules. Sometimes it's easy for us to know the rules. And sometimes, even depending on our context, it can be difficult for us to know the rules. Sometimes we may know the rule, but we may be confused by it. Sometimes, there are unspoken rules - those rules that “everybody knows” and that we assume people will follow. Some of these rules, in particular, are common in church.

So, our story today is about rules. And about what is really important. On the surface, it may seem about keeping rules that were Jewish versus Christian. Yet, we need to remember that Jesus was Jewish, so he would have observed the various Jewish laws. That’s not really what this story is about. Let’s listen to it and see if we can figure out what Jesus is really saying. I invite you to follow along in the pew Bible.

Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.) So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” He said to them, “Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,

‘This people honors me with their lips,

    but their hearts are far from me;

in vain do they worship me,

    teaching human precepts as doctrines.’

You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.”

Then he said to them, “You have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your tradition! For Moses said, ‘Honor your father and your mother’; and, ‘Whoever speaks evil of father or mother must surely die.’ But you say that if anyone tells father or mother, ‘Whatever support you might have had from me is Corban’ (that is, an offering to God)— then you no longer permit doing anything for a father or mother, thus making void the word of God through your tradition that you have handed on. And you do many things like this.”

Then he called the crowd again and said to them, “Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.”

When he had left the crowd and entered the house, his disciples asked him about the parable. He said to them, “Then do you also fail to understand? Do you not see that whatever goes into a person from outside cannot defile, since it enters, not the heart but the stomach, and goes out into the sewer?” (Thus he declared all foods clean.) And he said, “It is what comes out of a person that defiles. For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.”  --Mark 7:1-23 (NRSV)

The story opens with the appearance of the Pharisees and some scribes who have come into the countryside from Jerusalem to see Jesus. We often have a pretty bad attitude towards the Pharisees, don’t we? That their intent is always to trip up Jesus, to challenge him. This is the way they are presented in some of the other gospels. But, here, in Mark, it’s a little different. If you notice the text carefully, there is nothing that is written about their intent. In fact, it would have been customary and usual for them to come and ask questions. Jesus was viewed as a rabbi, a teacher with followers who was responsible for his disciples. So, assuming that Jesus, as a rabbi, was responsible for his disciples, the Pharisees would have come to Jesus to ask him about the behavior of his followers. There is nothing here to show a devious intent on their part.

Note the parenthetical portion in verses 3 and 4. “For the Pharisees...do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders…” This phrase - the “tradition of the elders” - was a reference to all of the interpretations, the rules, and the procedures that had grown up around the written law, or the Torah. The traditions of the elders were oral commentary on this written law, applying it to real life situations. You might say that the traditions of the elders were like the sermons of our day. Verbal commentary on the written law. 

The Pharisees were actually viewed as the “good guys” of Judaism of their day because they wanted to help people live out the written law. We think of them as “bad” because of what seems to be an antagonistic position toward Jesus. Yet, they believed that the Torah was a gift from God (as we do scripture) and that the oral traditions that had been passed down for generations were also gifts from God, but of equal value. Their question to Jesus - "Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?" - is their attempt to understand if this Rabbi Jesus shares their views...whether or not Jesus is as concerned as they are for ceremonial purity and for the sacredness of their vows, or their commitment, to the oral traditions. The question is pretty straight forward and seemingly with no devious intent.

It’s Jesus’ response that is surprising. Because he immediately goes into an antagonistic mode. “You hypocrites!” he calls them. He then proceeds to quote from Isaiah, essentially "throwing the book" at them and arguing that they confuse the interpretation of the law with the law itself.

Except, there’s a problem. Because laws don’t interpret themselves. It’s why today we have courts in our country. To interpret our laws. It’s why we have hundreds (if not thousands) of commentaries written on Scripture. To better understand or try to understand what the Bible is saying to us.

Take the fourth commandment, for example. “Honor your mother and father.” Now we probably get pretty easily what it means to honor someone. But who is your mother? Is it your biological mother? Or your adoptive mother? Your stepmother? Perhaps an aunt who was like a mother to you? Maybe a grandmother? Who decides the meaning of “mother?” Or, likewise, “father?” 

Can you put yourself into the position of the Pharisees? They’re simply trying to observe the law in the fullest sense. 

Jesus’ response to their question really isn't about the ritual of being clean or unclean. Please note that Jesus isn’t saying that cleanliness or ritual cleanliness isn’t important. Or that spreading germs is a good idea. This is more about how we understand the law. More specifically, it’s about how we obey the law. Whether we follow the spirit of the law or the letter of the law, which is what Jesus condemns here. Such as keeping keeping the Sabbath, but then cheating people in the marketplace day after day. Or offering sacrifices in the temple, then dealing unjustly or mistreating those who are vulnerable: slaves, foreigners, widows, or orphans. 

What defiles us - what makes us unclean - is not the stuff outside of us. What makes us unclean is what comes from our heart. Those thoughts, words, and deeds that create barriers in our relationships--with each other, with God. Those things we struggle with. Sexual sin. Theft. Murder. Adultery. Greed. Evil action. Deceit and lying. Unrestrained immorality. Envy. Insults. Arrogance. Foolishness. There is nothing on this list we can deny. We, who are bearers of God’s image, but who are also ungodly monsters that lurk underneath. Saint and sinner that we are. Wheat and chaff. Sheep and goats. This back and forth of ourselves that we struggle with. “Daily,” as Paul writes. That we ultimately cannot change. At least, not by ourselves.

It’s why we confess our sins regularly in worship.  Why we approach the Lord’s Supper each week. That we might know and receive God’s forgiveness. That, in Christ, our relationship to God might be restored. And that we might continue to be transformed. So that our hearts - the source of evil - might be changed. Luther writes that our new life is alien to us. That it’s outside the old “us.” That it’s not a matter of Jesus coming and cleaning us out to use our old shell. But that Jesus comes to kill the old. To make a new creation. To take us away from finding our identity in the law and instead finding it in Christ. Because that is the only “us” where we find freedom and a future. Where we find hope!  

But, this isn’t the end of it. Because, then, this same Jesus sends us back out. We, who have become freed in Christ, now are servants to all. To the clean and the unclean. To the wheat and the chaff. To the sheep and the goats. Because our cleanliness, once again, doesn’t not come from external things. Our cleanliness comes solely through the transforming grace of God. 

"Create in us a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within us." May this be our continuous prayer. Amen.

Preached February 16, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Epiphany 6
Readings: Mark 7:1-23; Isaiah 1:11-17, Psalm 50:7-23

The Power of the Kingdom: Breaking Free

Grace and peace to you from God our Father, and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Who here remembers Joan Rivers? For those of you who are too young to have heard of her, Joan Rivers was a ground-breaking female comedian who first appeared in the 1960s and was a legend until she died in 2014.

She had a cutting wit about her. Not afraid to turn it on herself. She was bold and punchy, often graphic and obscene. And she held nothing back. Here are a couple of her cleanest classic one-liners. “I knew I was an unwanted baby, when I saw that my bath toys were a toaster and a radio.” Or “I’m definitely going to watch the Emmys this year! My makeup team is nominated for ‘Best Special Effects.’” One more. “You know you’ve reached middle age when you’re cautioned to slow down by your doctor, instead of by the police.”

Rivers had a classic catchphrase. When she said it, you knew you were in for a straight-forward, blunt, “no holds back” conversation. “Can we talk?” she would say. And then it would begin.

So, members of Grace & Glory, can we talk?

I want to start by saying that the gospel of Mark is hard. It is just hard. I’ve mentioned before that it was the first gospel written. Perhaps that is why it is so bold and blunt and, like Joan Rivers, so in your face. It opens with a brash claim about good news. That Jesus is the Son of God. It is a fast-paced, ever-moving book. More like a documentary than a film. That just throws stuff in your face, and that opens with John the Baptist shouting, “Repent!” 

The Gospel of Mark is not the reasoned premise of who Jesus is in Matthew, or the lovely narrative of Luke, or the ethereal Jesus of John. Mark is written to intentionally be in our faces. There is no gray area in Mark, no in between. It is black and white. Mark challenges us to pick a side. With Jesus. Or against Jesus. The irony of Mark is that for much of the gospel, it seems as though it is Jesus’ own disciples who seem to always make the wrong choices. And say the wrong things. And it feels as though Jesus is constantly frustrated with them.

Mark is hard. 

Today’s story is particularly difficult and hard. So, we are going to walk through it. Verse by verse. Section by section. I invite you to open up a pew Bible, if you wish. I will also put the verses on the screen.  

They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes. --Mark 5:1 (NRSV)

Our story begins with this phrase from Mark 5, verse 1, “They came to the other side of the sea, to the country of the Gerasenes.” Last week, we heard the seed parables from Jesus. If you remember, he told them from a boat on the side of the sea, because the crowd on the shore had grown so large it was pushing him into the water. The sea that we’re talking last week and this week is the Sea of Galilee, pictured here. The large body to the left is the Mediterranean. But, the small body, almost large lake in the center of this map, is the Sea of Galilee. To the left is Galilee, which we know today as the present West Bank. This is the heart of Israel, the holy land. It’s here, where Jesus first gets into the boat on the western edge of the sea and teaches the seed parables, which we heard last week.

As today’s story opens, Jesus and the disciples have moved across the sea to the other side. On this map, it’s to the right of the Sea of Galilee. The side on the left is Israel. It’s the promised land, where the people of God live. The other side is the Decapolis, where the majority are Gentiles. Non-Jews. Jesus and his disciples are no longer in Galilee, but have moved across the sea into Gentile country, into the land of the Gerasenes. The first time in Mark that they are outside of the holy land.

And when he had stepped out of the boat, immediately a man out of the tombs with an unclean spirit met him. He lived among the tombs; and no one could restrain him any more, even with a chain; for he had often been restrained with shackles and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the shackles he broke in pieces; and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always howling and bruising himself with stones. --Mark 5:2-5 (NRSV)

As Jesus steps out of the boat, he enters one of the most heartbreaking scenes we could ever imagine. He is immediately approached by a man - a man with an unclean spirit, our text tells us. It may be easy for us to focus on the unclean spirits, but there is a man here who has been possessed by them. Who is harming himself. Who people have tried to chain up. The suffering in this scene is enormous.

It’s important for us to understand spirits in this gospel. In Mark’s framework, the world is under the sway of Satan, of evil spirits. This is contrasted with the world of the Holy Spirit. The presence of an unclean spirit here, meeting Jesus, represents a clash of spiritual realms. The unclean and unholy spirits are the rulers of the age in which Jesus finds himself. Jesus represents that breaking-back-in of the Holy Spirit. 

In the Jewish tradition, to be unclean is not necessarily to be evil, but in a ritual state. There is no negative judgment about being unclean, except that this causes a rift in relationship with the community and results in social isolation. This is what we have here. A man, bound by unclean spirits, who are hurting him as he lives among the tombs, which are themselves unclean because they are places of death. All of this results in his being ostracized from the community. 

When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and bowed down before him; and he shouted at the top of his voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” For he had said to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?” He replied, “My name is Legion; for we are many.” He begged him earnestly not to send them out of the country. --Mark 5:6-10 (NRSV)

It’s hard, isn’t it, when we read these verses to tell the difference between the man and the spirits? It’s hard to separate him from their possession of him. What must it feel like to be a person who is possessed by some kind of external power?

Notice that the spirits recognize Jesus right away. They know who he is, even if no one else does. What’s interesting to also note is that, if we turn back to Mark, chapter 1, Jesus’ first act of ministry in the holy land is to cast out demons. Now that he is in Gentile country, this is also his first act. One wonders if this is Jesus reclaiming not only the holy land, but the entire region as well.

Did you notice the name of the spirit? Legion. This is a Latin word that is related to Roman imperial forces, which were organized into legions. A full legion was some 6,000 soldiers. This is not a small war that Jesus is waging on unclean spirits, first in the holy land and now beyond its borders. This is an expanded theatre of action and conquest by Jesus.

Now there on the hillside a great herd of swine was feeding; and the unclean spirits begged him, “Send us into the swine; let us enter them.” So he gave them permission. And the unclean spirits came out and entered the swine; and the herd, numbering about two thousand, rushed down the steep bank into the sea, and were drowned in the sea.  --Mark 5:11-13 (NRSV)

Jesus gives the legion of spirits permission to enter into the herd of pigs, which are also, interestingly, unclean. This is not a small herd of pigs. Two thousand, which was a huge herd for the time. There is a real economic aspect here. Someone owned these pigs and they were worth a lot of money. Their herd is now wiped out. Their economic status is decimated. But, does it seem to you that Jesus is concerned about the economic impact of his miracle? 

The swineherds ran off and told it in the city and in the country. Then people came to see what it was that had happened. They came to Jesus and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the very man who had had the legion; and they were afraid. Those who had seen what had happened to the demoniac and to the swine reported it. Then they began to beg Jesus to leave their neighborhood. --Mark 5:14-17 (NRSV)

How stunning this experience must have been for the people, who had likely known this man for years! Here he is. Clothed. Sitting politely and drinking tea. How do we make sense of their response? Of their fear? And their desire to send Jesus away? How comfortable they must have become, having this spirit-possessed man on the edge of town! How uncomfortable it was for them when Jesus came and upended the status quo! We, like they, might not like some things about the status quo, but the question is whether we’re really willing to have Jesus turn things upside down.

Not only this, but one wonders whether the townspeople thought his healing was worth the economic toll. What’s the cost of people on the edges being healed? What will it cost us for everyone to have healing and wholeness? Are we willing to pay it? 

As he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed by demons begged him that he might be with him. But Jesus refused, and said to him, “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you.” And he went away and began to proclaim in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him; and everyone was amazed.  --Mark 5:18-20 (NRSV)

 It’s probably not unexpected that this man, now healed, wants to go with Jesus. Maybe he’s worried about staying in this place. He has no one who seems to be happy he has been healed. No family showing up. He’s been isolated for so long, he probably has no one left. But, Jesus says no. Stay here and tell everyone. Show everyone what has happened. Perhaps this is where the man can give his most powerful witness. In this place, where people know him. Who he was. Who he now is. Because of Jesus.

Folks, Mark is hard. We, like the people in town, are comfortable with the status quo. This Gospel pushes us to make the hard choices. What are the unclean spirits of our time? Where do we see oppression taking control of bodies and people, and causing pain? Are we willing to pay the cost that everyone might be whole? And who are the outcasts today? Who are the suffering and isolated in our world? Who do we push away so that we don’t have to see them?

Friends, until everyone is free, until everyone is whole, until everyone is healed, we cannot be fully free. So, yes, Mark is hard. But it is into the midst of our discomfort and fear that Jesus enters in. To transform us. And to fully break us free.

May you live into your discomfort this week. Amen.

Preached February 2, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
Readings: Daniel 4:28-37, Psalm 27:1-4, Mark 5:1-20