Coming Home to You, Part 4: To Cultivate a Servant Heart

 

Mark 10:35-45  

I have been listening to a podcast for the past few weeks about a church that fell apart. It rose to great heights and then came crashing down almost overnight.

It was started in the spring of 1996 by three men. They began meeting in homes, and then graduated to borrowing space in a local church. by fall of that year they were up to about 160 people.

The next year they began holding two weekly services. Two years later they were averaging about 350 in worship, and in a few more years they transitioned to a multi-site church, with video hook-up at each campus streaming in the sermons of Lead Pastor Mark Driscoll.

Of the three men who started up Mars Hill Church, Mark Driscoll soon emerged as the front man. He was a very gifted speaker, had a strong vision for the church and natural leadership skills. And in the early years, Mark had a good, solid message. He was all about Jesus and what it meant to be a disciple of Jesus. He didn’t seem to think that growth for the sake of growth was what it was all about. In fact he was very critical of some mega churches that he perceived as being that way. Mark wanted to keep Jesus at the center of things and not let it become all about himself. But that changed over time.

Mark liked the power. He liked being the authority. In his sermons he began boasting about the church’s numbers – attendance, conversions, buildings, bank account balances. He enjoyed the success, and the people who attended seemed to enjoy being a part of something so successful.

And then signs began showing that perhaps it wasn’t really all about Jesus anymore. People started speaking up about Mark’s abusive behavior. He bullied others; he was intolerant of dissent. If an elder of the church challenged him in any way, he essentially fired them and decreed that they should be shunned by the church. In his preaching it began sounding like he was telling his congregation that they should submit not to the authority of God, but to the authority of Mars Hill Church and Pastor Mark Driscoll.  

It seemed pretty clear that Mark wanted not to serve but to be served. He looked more like a tyrant than a servant leader. It is said that a good governance model can protect the people from a bad leader, while a bad governance model can protect a bad leader from being held accountable. Mars Hill found itself in the latter situation.

At the top of its game, Mars Hill had 12 campuses in four different states, with 100 paid staff. They reported weekly attendance of about 13,000. This was in early 2014. By the end of that year, Mars Hill Church was gone.

This is not a singular tale, of course. There have been others like Mark and there will be more to come. It is the nature of human beings to enjoy power and all its privileges. Even little children show the signs. Power is thrilling, intoxicating. When given the opportunity people are tempted to abuse it.

But what’s more, and what we really can’t turn aside from seeing, is that it wasn’t only Mark. There were thousands of people who just loved being a part of something so big and successful and powerful. There was power just in being a part of it all. They sat in the room and listened to his sermons every week. When he said abusive things, they laughed. When he made veiled threats to his elders, they laughed. It didn’t matter, they liked being on the side of something so powerful.

James and John wanted power and privilege; even after hearing from Jesus repeatedly that it wasn’t going to be like that; that his work would take him not to the seats of worldly power, but right to the cross and the grave, yet they still wanted it. It was like they didn’t really believe him. Or that the lust for power warped their minds.

It’s not that they hadn’t heard about where things were heading. Back in chapter 8, right after Peter proclaimed that Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus began to speak about the suffering and death that was to come for him. Peter rebuked him for speaking this way, I suppose because that just didn’t fit into his notion of what the Messiah is. Jesus rebuked him right back and then turned to the crowd and said: any who want to follow me must take up their cross.

It happened again in chapter 9, where Jesus was teaching his disciples about his suffering and death. They did not understand and unfortunately were afraid to ask questions. Then, strangely enough, they were caught arguing amongst themselves about which of them is the greatest. Jesus said to them: whoever wants to be first must be last of all, servant of all.

And once again we see it happen in chapter 10. He tells them again: many who are first will be last and the last will be first. Knowing that they still do not understand, once again he begins to tell them about the suffering to come – in a bit more vivid detail this time:

“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.”

And right after this, James and John get together and decide the time is right to make their demands. Jesus, we want you to appoint each of us to sit beside you in glory.

They want the power; they want the glory. They want to be at the top of the heap looking down on everyone else, all the losers of the world. James and John believe that this is a privilege they have earned, and they are boldly claiming it.

Jesus’ words in response to them are brimming with poignancy. You do not know what you are asking.

They did not know what they were asking, because they still did not know what it meant to be a follower of Jesus.

The others were no wiser. They got angry at James and John, probably because they would have asked for it themselves if they had thought of it. Everyone wants to be on top. I am strong enough, committed enough; I can drink the cup too. Promote me, Jesus. I want to be your right-hand man.

The church has struggled with this desire for power and privilege all throughout its history. Rather than conform ourselves to the image of Jesus, we try to conform Jesus to something he never was and never will be. We are like fans in the bleachers chanting, “We’re number 1!” Forgetting his words about being last instead of first, about serving rather than being served because it feels incongruous. And inconvenient.

It is usually preferable to serve ourselves rather than someone else. Wouldn’t we rather sit down on the couch in the evening and watch TV or read a book than to go to a church meeting? Wouldn’t we rather go out for lunch with friends than spend that hour serving a meal to the homeless?

Wouldn’t we rather complain about the way others are doing things than to step in and join the effort to make it better? Wouldn’t we rather complain that the church isn’t doing enough to meet our needs than to stand up and say, Hey, I see a problem and I want to be a part of the solution?

It’s just too hard to make a difference, we would rather someone else do that. It’s too hard being a part of a team. Other people might shoot down your ideas. You might have to submit to the group consensus, or else quit. There really isn’t enough glory in it.

And yet, whoever wishes to be a Christian must know this: to be a follower of Jesus is to lift others up, rather than to lift ourselves up. It is to work for the well-being of the whole – especially the weaker parts of the whole. It is to, in some sense, lay down one’s life so others may live.

This fall as we come home to our sanctuary, how is Christ calling you to lay down your life? As we begin to rekindle the life of this church after a harsh and difficult 20 months, how is Christ calling you to serve? How will we join together to be the church Jesus is calling us to be?

Coming Home to You, Part 3: All In

Mark10:17-31  

One of the favorite films in our family is The Princess Bride. We can watch it together over and over and always enjoy.  It’s a story about a princess who has been kidnapped by some bad guys who hope to set off a war in the kingdom.  Either that or it’s a story about true love.  Or else it’s a story about a grandfather reading a fairy tale to his grandson.  Whatever it is, it’s funny and sweet. 

The character Vizzini, a Sicilian mastermind criminal played by the actor Wallace Shawn, has kidnapped the princess Buttercup.  Inigo Montoya, a Spanish swordsman and Fezzik, a giant, assist him in his criminal endeavors.  They are all being pursued by a mysterious man in black.  Vizzini tries to outwit the man in black, but every time they look back they discover he is still on their trail and gaining on them.  Each time Vizzini exclaims, “Inconceivable!”  Finally, after this has happened several times and Vizzini has pronounced it inconceivable, Inigo Montoya says,  “You keep using that word.  I don’t think it means what you think it means.”

A few years ago, we were in Chicago visiting family and we went to the Art Institute.  Our son Joe and his girlfriend went down to the café for a cup of coffee and when they came back, they said, “Guess who we saw in the café having coffee with his wife: Wallace Shawn.”  And I said, “Inconceivable.”  I couldn’t resist it.  I’ll bet he hears that word a lot more than he cares to.

The thing that is inconceivable to us, and to Jesus’ disciples, is the notion of a camel going through the eye of a needle.  I have grown quite farsighted, and I have trouble enough getting even a thread through the eye of a needle.  I can’t envision a camel small enough or a needle large enough to allow this to happen.  And, as impossible as this is, Jesus says it is even more impossible for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.

There have been some valiant attempts by Bible scholars to let us off the hook.  Some have suggested that the eye of the needle here referred to is a gate in Jerusalem, which was smaller than the other gates.  The size of it made it very challenging for travelers to get their camel through it.  Packs needed to be unloaded, a certain amount of gymnastics needed to be performed by the animal in order to get it through.  But it was possible.  Difficult, but possible.

It has also been suggested that Jesus was misheard.  When they thought he was saying camel he was really saying rope.  That’s right, rope.  Well, the words sound similar in Greek, so it’s not as absurd as it sounds. Now, this makes for a slightly more fathomable image.  A rope is at least the right type of object to pass through the eye of the needle.  And I can imagine that it might be possible to get it through the eye of a needle, although with great difficulty.  Again, it’s possible.

If we were really audacious, we would say that Jesus is actually talking about rope, not camels, and furthermore, he is referring to the gate, not an actual needle.  So now we are looking at a length of rope passing through a small gate.  I don’t know what the big deal is about that. 

And just like that, we have stripped the story of any meaning at all, haven’t we? We can breathe easier, though.

How does a camel get through the eye of a needle?

Some years ago I read about an art installation in a Las Vegas museum that showed a life-size camel, knitted out of wooly yarn and standing in a desert made of glued together matchsticks, facing a needle.  How does the camel get through?  I’ll bet you would like to know how.

It’s a riddle that’s hard to answer.  It’s trying to make the impossible possible.  How does a camel get through the eye of a needle?  How does a ship get in a bottle?  How do the Orioles win the World Series? Is the impossible ever possible?

The answer to the question might be on your lips right now – the answer Jesus gives the disciples:  with God, all things are possible.  Surely all things are possible with God, but that’s not the answer to the question that is really vexing us.  That question is –

How?

It’s a question that I need to have the answer to because there is a lot at stake for me.  I am that rich person. 

Most of us are the rich person in this story because we are all rich by world standards.  We may not feel that way when we compare ourselves to our bosses, our politicians and celebrities, or even our neighbors.  But when we look around the world and compare ourselves to our global neighbors, we are rich.  We have an awful lot to be grateful for, and an awful lot of room for generosity.  You might be surprised.

There was an American woman living in Calcutta.  One day a local woman came to her door with a request.  She was going to be working in the mountains over the winter and she would need a pair of warm slacks.  She had no slacks, so she was asking this American woman to give her one of her pairs.  The American woman balked at the request because she only had two pairs, herself, not exactly a superfluous number of slacks.  Yet the woman standing in her doorway looked at her and said, “You have two pairs.  I need one.  That will still leave you with one.  Won’t you share your extra pair with me?”

This was a level of giving the American woman never expected to be asked to do. I don’t think any of us expect to ever have to give quite so much.  Aren’t there reasonable limits?

I imagine the rich young man in the story also wondered, as he walked away from Jesus, about reasonable limits.  He knew the law and the law did not require him to give everything away.  Why would Jesus ask for so much more than what the law requires?

We wonder if there was something peculiar about this rich young man that made Jesus respond to him in that way.  Was there something about him that was different from us, which would make it reasonable to ask him to give everything away?  What I mean is, is there some way of seeing ourselves as exempt from this requirement?

If there is, the text doesn’t give us any clues.  Jesus simply says what he says:  it is easier for a camel to get through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God.  So what is the solution?

His disciples are suddenly flooded with despair, because what Jesus said defies everything they have been taught about what it means to be in the Lord’s favor.  The Hebrew Bible teaches us to look at material blessings as a sign of God’s favor.  So if even those whom God has smiled upon cannot enter the kingdom of heaven, who in the world can be saved?

And Jesus answers them, “You cannot save yourselves – that’s impossible.  But for God, all things are possible.”

That takes us right back to the original question posed by the young man.  What must I do to inherit eternal life?  He wanted a list.  What must I do to earn my salvation? 

Jesus looked him in the eyes and he loved him. He loved this earnest young man who wanted to be as good as he could be, he wanted to make God proud.  Jesus loved him enough to want to save him, so he said there is one more thing: sell all your possessions and give them to the poor, then follow me.  Get rid of everything that is getting between your heart and your God.  Whatever is claiming any part of your loyalty, get it out of the way because God is asking you to go all in.

You see, our possessions are not bad things.  Every good thing we have is a gift from God, meant to be used for the glory of God.  But the problem is that all too often our possessions become our masters.  There is an addictive quality to material consumption.  Once you start, you can never have enough.

In a land of such great abundance, one of the hardest parts of living a life committed to Christ is to live as though you have enough.  Yes, there are blessings in material wealth but there are also dangers.  The land of material excess is also a spiritual desert.  The question we must ask ourselves is how shall we handle the blessings we have received?  This is not a casual question.  We must earnestly seek the answer to this question – just as earnestly as the rich man sought answers to his question.  And this is why I want an answer to the riddle: how does a camel get through the eye of a needle?

That wooly camel in the Las Vegas art gallery? It was being unraveled, a stitch at a time, and passed through the eye of the needle.  And as it passed through the needle it landed in a heap of yarn on the floor.  As it turns out, the camel can get through the eye of the needle quite easily, but it must come undone.  In the end, every bit of the original camel will be on the other side of the needle, but it will have an entirely different shape.

How about us camels?  If we go all in? Having been shaped by our material lifestyle, we will be reshaped.  Having been defined by our possessions, we will be redefined.  For any one of us to enter the kingdom of God we must be transformed – radically, humbly transformed – and this can only happen by the power of God.  We must open the hand that holds tightly to the things of this world to receive the kingdom of God.

 Photo by SUNBEAM PHOTOGRAPHY on Unsplash 

Coming Home to You, Part 2: Measuring Value

 

Mark 10:13-16  

Patience is a virtue, without doubt. But in these verses, we have the evidence that even Jesus could lose his patience. As I have said before, we sometimes forget that he was fully human. And humans sometimes run out of patience.

The evidence here is in the word indignant. Jesus was indignant.

He’s in the middle of teaching, and he looks over to his leadership team and sees them standing in front of the little children blocking their way to the Lord. They seem to think they are the bouncers at the door of Jesus’ club. And he’s like,

What part of “whoever welcomes a child in my name welcomes me” did you not understand?

What part of “if you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you to have a millstone hung around your neck and be thrown into the sea” did you not understand?

What was it about the many times you saw me heal a sick or dying child that didn’t seem important to you?

What did I ever do that convinced you I would like you to stop the children from coming to me? No, let the little children come to me for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.

And he took them in his arms and blessed them.

And then he sent them off to the nursery.

Oh, that’s not in there, is it?

Of course, there are arguments to make in the disciples’ defense, if we want to. We could consider the fact that caring for children, throughout most of human history, has been women’s work. As a man, Jesus would have been assumed to have much more important things to do; surely there was a woman somewhere who could have dealt with these children and their needs. His disciples were simply trying to help him delegate and prioritize. Although, if they were watching him and listening to him they surely would have known he didn’t share their priorities.

It really is a matter of priorities, how he measured value. And how difficult it was for his followers to get that.

For us, having the benefit of the written gospels, and two thousand years to absorb them, we are in a better place to be able to understand it. Most of us can easily cite the words he said about how the last should be first and the greatest take their place at the end of the line. We know that humility is a Christian virtue and pride is a sin.

If we have heard enough sermons and attended enough Bible studies, we are probably aware that Jesus did nothing less than turn the social and economic order upside down with his words and his actions. And that this played an important part in the events that led to his death.

Jesus had different priorities than the world around him did. Jesus measured value differently than society did. And he wanted to teach his followers to have the very same priorities and values he did.

When Jesus spoke, his words meant something real – real enough for him to put his life on the line. The challenge for us as his followers is to understand what his words mean for us.

What does it mean to bless the children in Jesus’ name? At the very least, wouldn’t it mean checking to see if the kids are alright? Are they alright?

I need to tell you I am not at all sure that they are. Too many of the kids are not alright.

During the last year and a half of pandemic our children in America have lost a lot. Not being in school for so long, they have lost out academically, socially, emotionally and psychologically – even economically. The children have paid a price and continue to pay a price.

Parents have told me how hard it was for children to engage with teachers and classmates on a screen. How hard it was for them to carry out their independent work, on their asynchronous days. Some children had trouble attending their online classes because they were also responsible for helping younger siblings while their parents were at work.

Some high school students were trying to attend class on their phones while they were working shifts in warehouses, supermarkets, or in their delivery jobs. One principal said she called local businesses and begged them to stop scheduling her kids during school hours.

We have heard stories from people in rural areas about the challenge of participating in virtual school when there is inadequate cell or internet service. School districts tried to provide families with hot spots, which may or may not have been adequate. I spoke with one teacher in a rural part of our county for whom no hot spot could do the job she needed. She made the hard decision to quit her job and homeschool her kids.

We have heard about the challenges of ensuring that kids in poor families have the computers they need to attend virtual classes. Our district was mostly successful in that. In other parts of our nation, the schools simply did not have enough money to get the kids what they needed.

The kids are not alright. We know from early test results that they underperformed last year. Parents felt helpless as they watched their children failing – not because they lacked the ability but because they lacked the resources.

Kids are mostly back in schools now, thanks be to God. But it is clear that the troubles are not finished. They have lost a year of all the things school provides for them. They are far behind in too many ways. They are suffering from the emotional and psychological wounds, the academic failures, and for many, the economic losses. You might say, “Kids are resilient! They will catch up.” But only if someone gives them the resources they need to catch up.

The kids are not alright. Some were in abusive homes and there was no escape. Some felt ashamed because the computer screen allowed other people to see the conditions in which they lived. And some of them, too many of them, disappeared. School personnel simply could not find them.

Children who lived in poverty before COVID-19 are in even worse straits now. Families in poor districts, in states that undervalue, underfund schools, are in worse conditions now than they were before, the little hope they might have once had is dwindled to nothing.

And Jesus is indignant.

The whole of the scriptures, from beginning to end, tells us that if we are not putting actions with our words we are not in accordance with God’s desires. We hear it from the prophet Jeremiah, who says, “They have treated the wounds of my people carelessly, saying ‘peace, peace’ when there is no peace.” We hear it from James, who says, “If a brother or sister lacks food or clothing and you say to them ‘go in peace,’ and do not supply their needs, what is the good in that?”

What does it mean for us to commit ourselves to Christ, to be a faithful disciple of the Lord? Today I say to you that it means taking a hard, honest look at our values. And the measure of our values is where we place our resources – spiritual, intellectual, and material.

Jesus showed us very well that his values are different from the values of the world. It is time for us to ask ourselves: How do we measure value? As the world does, or as Jesus does?

Photo: ChurchArt.com

Coming Home to You, Part 1: Who We Are

 

James 3:13-4:3,7-8

Mark 9:30-37     

In all the preparations for returning to our sanctuary for worship, I have had St. Augustine of Hippo on my mind. I’ll tell you why.

Augustine was born in 354 in a Roman province that is now part of Algeria, in Africa. Important for us to know: Augustine was an African.

His mother, Monica, was a Christian. Augustine was raised as a Christian, but like a lot of kids, he didn’t seem to be terribly serious about it. He was a smart, and probably cocky, little guy. He ran around with a rowdy bunch and got into plenty of trouble. In his teens, he became enthralled with philosophy and embraced a religion called Manicheism, which was very popular at the time. Just about killed his mom, but she never gave up on him.

He was willful and wayward and at 17 began a relationship with a young woman, whose name we don’t know. She bore his son – Adeodatus, which means Gift from God. Augustine and this woman never married, but the relationship lasted many years, during which time Augustine never stopped exploring spiritual things. Gradually he seemed to be finding his way back to the church.

He separated from this woman during a time when his faith journey was intensifying – he was discerning a call to the priesthood.

But he wasn’t quite ready yet! Augustine apparently still felt he had some wild oats to sow. During these tumultuous and emotional years, he is famously said to have uttered this prayer: “God grant me chastity and continence, but not yet.”

Thank God for his mentors, his teachers, friends, and of course Monica, his mother. These are the ones who gave him the steadfast support and wise guidance he needed to find his way to faith.

He followed the path to priesthood and was ordained in 391. It was here, finally, in the church, Augustine put his great intelligence to good use. He was prolific in his thinking and writing, crafting much of the church doctrine that we have today. And it should be said that John Calvin, the founder of our Reformed faith, was deeply influenced by Augustine – this is clear in Calvin’s writing.

Some years after his conversion to Christianity, Augustine wrote the book that he is most personally identified with – The Confessions. It is an account of his faith journey. If you have heard anything about it you probably have heard about the spicy details of his past, all those things he now repents of. But you should also know that it is brimming, overflowing, with gratitude. Augustine cannot adequately express how thankful he is to God, because from this vantage point, at last, he can see things clearly.

He can see that for so many years he was running around here and there all over God’s world, greedily taking what he wanted. His intellectual curiosity took him through explorations of all kinds of things, and his physical appetites drove him in other directions. He was talented, but unfocused. Intelligent but without wisdom. Until he found his way home.

As Augustine writes to God in his confessions, “belatedly, I love you…You were within and I was without…You were with me and I was not with you…yet you opened my deafness…chased away my blindness…I breathed you in and now I pant for you…I tasted and now I hunger and thirst…You touched me and now I burn for your peace.”

The man had a way with words, didn’t he?

St. Augustine has been on my mind because I have been so aware of the importance of finding our way home. And it has two meanings for us now - the spiritual meaning, that God is our heart's home, is one. But also, a more material meaning, as we have longed to return to our church home, this sanctuary. This is a place we so deeply and dearly associate with our spiritual journeys. Here in these pews we have opened our hearts to God and cried out our deepest fears and hurts and longings. Prayers for God to take away the disease of our loved ones. Prayers full of our hard questions about why things happen that no one ever wants to happen; these things challenge our faith, and we cry out like the father who brought his son to Jesus saying, “Help me in my unbelief.”

We have sat together here and asked God to bring his reign of peace, bring an end to war and pestilence and hunger, as we watched humanity in one place and another wreak havoc and destruction.

We have confessed our own sins, the roles we have played in the pain and suffering in this world, repenting of our trespasses, and seeking God’s grace to help us do better. We have given our prayers of thankfulness for the blessings we have received, the gifts God has bestowed on us, the joy we find in the life God has given us.

And, like Augustine, we have found strength and sustenance and direction from the saints that surround us – those who share the pews with us and those who came before us, whom we remember with thanksgiving and love. We know that we are not, and can never be, on this journey alone. For all the times we have drifted away, and someone called us back. For all the dark and confused times, when someone gave us a light to find our way. For all the times we needed someone to help us know who we are.

Today is a day of thanksgiving.  We give thanks for all the faithful, past and present, who have played a role in giving us this sanctuary. We give thanks for God’s steadfast love and mercies, new every day. To recommit ourselves to God, is good and right for us to do.

Today we begin the journey of coming home to God, following in the footsteps of St. Augustine who prayed thusly:

You are great, Lord, and greatly to be praised. Great is your power and your wisdom is immeasurable. Humankind, a little piece of your creation, desires to praise you. We carry the evidence of our sin and the witness that you resist the proud. Nevertheless, we desire to praise you. You stir us to take pleasure in praising you, because you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.

Amen.

Photo: Lana Foley Photography

Do You Know Jesus?

 

Mark 8:27-38     

Do you know what Jesus looks like?  Would you recognize him if you saw him pushing a cart at the Food Lion or walking down Division Street?  Do you know Jesus?

I think I would recognize him – you know, from the pictures.  If he hasn’t changed his hair, that is, his beautiful long wavy hair.  And if he still wears those long flowing robes, definitely I would recognize him.  If he hasn’t changed his style too much, I would know him.  But even if he has I would know his blue eyes, his beautiful smooth skin.  You all have seen the pictures, too, right?  You know.  Our Jesus is beautiful.

The Warner Sallman painting, The Head ofChrist, is the one.  When Americans imagine the face of Jesus we are most likely to envision this face.  A serene looking man gazing off into the distance, serious but not stern.  More than 500 million copies of this painting have been sold since its creation in 1940.  It hangs in countless homes and Sunday school rooms; the wallet size version has done well, too.  It seems to have a pretty good balance of darkness and light, feminine and masculine.  It’s been working for us for a long time.  This is the face we see when we think of Christ. 

So much so, in fact, that it has become hard for us to envision the possibility that Jesus looked any different than this.  But we can be pretty sure he didn’t actually look much like this European Jesus.  Jesus was a Middle Eastern man.

Realistically, we know that Jesus must have looked like most of the other people around him.  So using a technique called forensic anthropology, we have an image of Jesus that is a best estimate of what he actually looked like.  No long wavy hair, high cheekbones, or blue eyes. 

Jesus has been reimagined by every culture and era.  There are Native American Jesuses, Japanese Jesuses, African Jesuses, and Latin American Jesuses.  There is the Medieval Jesus, the Renaissance Jesus, and contemporary Jesus.  Do you know Jesus?  Which one?

In this reading from Mark’s gospel today Jesus is wondering the same thing.  He asks his disciples.  Who are people saying that I am?  What are you hearing about me? 

People were definitely talking about him.  Even though he was continually saying to his followers, “Don’t tell anyone about this!” they are talking.  As soon as he says, “Don’t tell anybody,” they turn around and tell everyone within earshot.  It’s a puzzling thing, this open secret about Jesus’ actions and his identity.  Perhaps the secrecy was meant to say that his actions do not define him.  Jesus is more than the sum of his miracles.  Who is this Jesus? 

His disciples report what they have heard.  Some are saying he is Elijah returned, some say he is John the Baptist; some are saying he is another of the prophets.  There are many theories about who Jesus is; all of them connected to the past.  Then Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?”

Peter says it first.  You are the Messiah.  You are the one we have been waiting for.  You are the Christ. 

For the first time, we hear something new.  Jesus is not like anyone or anything ever seen before.  He is not a reincarnation or reimagining of any other person.  He is not to be put into a previously established category of man.  Jesus is the one they have dreamed about, the one that has never before been seen; he is the Messiah. 

And Jesus say, “Don’t tell anyone.”

Because we don’t know Jesus that way.  We don’t know Jesus because someone told us who he is.  We know Jesus differently than we know most things or people.  Do you know Jesus?

Our teachers and mentors in the faith are charged with helping us – young and old alike – to know Jesus.  And it’s not just a matter of telling us; it’s a matter of walking alongside us.  It’s a matter of sharing and discovering and learning alongside us.  Because getting to know Jesus is a lifelong journey. 

Do you know Jesus?  Do you recognize him – not just the Sallman version of him, but all the different iterations of Jesus, the Messiah?  

We know him from his miracles, but he is not just the miracles.  He is more than that.  We know him from his parables, but he is not just the parables.  He is more than that.  We know him from his acts of healing, but he is more than a healer. 

We know him from his death and resurrection, but he is even more than that.  Do you know Jesus? 

Because he lives in our midst now.  He is found in the woman who waits for a sandwich outside our kitchen door when HOPE is serving lunch.  He is found in the homeless man who walks the streets during the day and comes to the door of our building for shelter on a winter night.  He is found in the refugees seeking a safe place to live, the ones who keep knocking on the doors at the borders, no matter how many times we say no.  We know him in the young child who tests our patience and our love.  Jesus pushes the boundaries wherever he goes.

Do you know Jesus?  It won’t do just to talk about him because talk is cheap.  That’s what Peter found.  Jesus is found in the taking up of our own cross and following him with our lives.  Do you know Jesus?

We know him when he moves us to respond to the need in our midst.  That might be anything from the battered and disheartened woman who someone to show her that there is love enough for her to live, that there is hope – to the child who has been bullied so relentlessly that he is at risk of losing himself, and needs to see that we recognize him as a beloved child of God.  When we do this we know Jesus, we know him in our hearts.

Jesus doesn’t just warm our hearts – he stirs our hearts to reach out and give hope to others.  When we act with kindness and humility we know Jesus, we know him in our hearts.

We know Jesus by following Jesus, to the cross and through death and back to life.  And we teach others to do the same by our example.  Teach them love by loving them – whether or not they are lovable.  Teach them to give as you give – whether or not you feel like giving.  Teach them faith by your faith – something we recommit ourselves to every single day.  This is how we come to know Jesus.

Knowing Jesus is the hardest thing and the best thing we can do.  Beautiful Jesus – not because he has perfect skin and blue eyes.  Beautiful Jesus – because there is nothing more beautiful than the power of his love.

Do you know Jesus?

 

God’s Preferences

 

Mark 7:24-37     

When our kids were little, Kim used to say to them, “Oh, you’re my favorite 8-year-old boy!” or “You’re my favorite 13-year-old daughter.” It would always surprise them, but then they would laugh. He wanted each one to know that they were his favorites. Each one of them.

Kids spend a fair amount of time thinking about favorites. It’s a big word in a child’s vocabulary: favorite ice cream, favorite color, favorite animal, and so on. And they think, too, about whether their parents have a favorite child. In fact, even when we grow up, we still might think about who was our parents’ favorite child.

Whether or not parents have a favorite among their children, or grandchildren, almost all parents do favor their own children over others. To us that seems not only normal but quite appropriate. We might judge harshly any parent who does not seem to favor their own children. Every child needs to know they have their parents in their corner.

We look at it like this: we are first and foremost responsible for taking care of our own. And then, with whatever is left over, we should look after the needs of others outside the family. It is right and good to give to others in need, but we don’t take food out of our children’s mouths and give it to others.

Or, in Jesus’ words, it’s not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.

It has taken me a lot of time, but I have finally come to terms with the fact that he said that. He actually called this woman, and her child, dogs. This woman in need, who probably had to muster up every bit of nerve she had? He called her a dog.

I went through a process of trying to interpret it away. Like, he didn’t actually mean that; he was testing her faith. Or, this was a teaching moment for his disciples; he was playing “Devil’s Advocate.” I have also tried out the notion that he was speaking theoretically; it was nothing personal, it was just theological. Kind of like the mobsters in the movies who say, “It’s not personal. It’s just business.”

But, actually, it just makes more sense to say that he just said something that was not only hurtful, but wrong. And, like so many mistakes, this is a great moment for illuminating truth.

This woman of Tyre – not a Jew, obviously – shows boldness in approaching him. First, because she is a woman, and women did not approach strange men in public. Second, she was a gentile, and Jews did not like to interact with gentiles, male or female. This was a matter of purity, something that was important in the law of Israel. According to the law, any interaction with a person who is “unclean” would have to be followed by a ritual of purification, and that was a hassle, frankly. For practical reasons, Jews avoided having contact with persons they would call “unclean.” There would be nothing unusual about Jesus wanting to avoid this woman.

She approaches him anyway. After all, her child’s life is at risk. She knew Jesus by reputation to be a man of power and compassion, so it was sure worth a try.

But she evidently caught him on a bad day.

We read in verse 24 that he was looking for solitude. He needed some downtime. “He did not want anyone to know he was there,” but Jesus could not escape notice and there were so many who needed so much.

Every once in a great while in the gospel, we hear that Jesus sighed. We know what it means when someone sighs, don’t we? They are exhausted, they are drained, they are on their last nerve. So what do you think it means when Jesus sighs?

We tend to forget the tenet of our faith that says he was fully human, but he was. And being human he most certainly had his limits.  He was tired, he was drained, and he snapped at this woman. “I won’t take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” And at this, she should have lowered her head and scurried away. But she doesn’t. She surprises us with her courage and wit just as much as Jesus surprised us with his callous words. She says, “Yet, even the dogs get to eat the crumbs that fall to the floor.”

She is not a Jew, but she knows there is more than enough of God’s healing mercy to go around. She knows what Jesus, himself, has been teaching: that God’s love and mercy extend to all who are in need, both within and beyond the bounds of Israel. Clean and unclean.

And, yes, Jesus knows this too. Once again, he surprises us by turning around. “You know, you’re right,” he says to her, “In fact, that demon has already left your daughter because of your faith.” The woman went home and saw that what he said was true. End of story.

Jesus moves on to another place – the region of the Decapolis. Here he encounters more gentiles, who bring a deaf man to him imploring Jesus to heal him. This time he does so, without question or prevarication, using a mysterious concoction of spit and strange words. The man’s hearing and speech are restored and everyone is astounded.

So, what do you think? Does God have favorites?

We might assume that God favors those of us who “live right.” You might say it is the modern, western equivalent of purity vs impurity. If we go to church, if we bring our children up in the church, if we pray, if we tithe, then we are ritually pure. Therefore, we are God’s favored ones.

And we might then assume that there are perks to being among God’s favored: such as having our prayers heard, and of course answered, first. It might seem to make sense, but does it really?

What we know from the scriptures is a bit more complex than that. We read there that God favors God’s chosen people. But also that God clearly favors anyone who stands in need. Therefore, God expects God’s chosen people to favor the ones in need.

We hear it in the words from Proverbs: A good name is to be chosen rather than riches, and a good name is established by practicing generosity, loving mercy, and seeking after justice. The Lord favors those in need, and God’s chosen ones will follow after God’s heart.

God favors the ones who are in need – those who sit at the table and those who are under the table waiting for crumbs to fall, and there are always crumbs that fall. In fact, if we are doing it well, there will be more crumbs than are needed.

As we turn our hearts to the sacrament at the table of Christ this morning, we might remember that this is something he shared with us when we were the outcasts, the ones who stood in need, the ones who were waiting for the crumbs to fall. This is the feast he set for the needy ones.

As we go into our week – our work, our school, our recreation – let us consider the ways we have been favored, and consider the ways God is asking us to share the favor with others: the favor of our attention, our time, our love, as well as our goods.

You know, Jesus was full of surprises. Let us follow his lead and surprise the world. Let us practice generosity with someone who really needs it.

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