From Third Person to Second Person; The Grammatical Shift of Faith
Year C • Proper 8 • Semicontinuous Track
2 Kings
2:1–2, 6–14 • Psalm 77:1–2, 11–20
Galatians 5:1, 13–25 • Luke 9:51–62
Falling Trees, Empty Woods
We have all heard that deepest of deep philosophical questions,
you know the one about falling trees and deserted forests. “If a tree falls in
the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a noise?” You wouldn’t
believe how many responses there are to this question on the internet. Lots of
people said, “Yes.” Lots said, “No.” And a fair number of people argued that it
all depends upon your definition of sound. Others simply said that it was a
stupid question.
My favorite response is from the guy who wrote, “Does it
make a sound? If you really want to know, set explosives to the trunk of a
tree, activate a decent quality recorder, and explode the tree. Play back the
recording and let me know whether you hear the tree say ouch or not.” When I
read that, I had a mental image of a tree lying on the forest floor, crying
out: “Help, I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up.”
Instead of answering the question, some people modified the question.
So for example, Gary Larson, the famous originator of the Far Side cartoons,
asks this question: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around and it
hits a mime,… does anyone care?”
So I wonder, how would you answer the question? Or, what alternative
question would you come up with? Or better yet, what question would the author
of today’s psalm come up with? Today, we recited Psalm 77. It’s a psalm of individual
lament, a psalm in which a lone voice cries out to God. But you may have
noticed that we only recited verses 1 through 2 and 11 through 20; that’s because
those were the only verses assigned by our lectionary. So what we ended up with
was the good parts version, the sanitized version. And what we missed was the
depth of despair that the psalmist expresses. But let’s look at that distress
in a little more detail. If you want to follow along, I would invite you to
turn to page 693 in the Book of Common Prayer.
1 Kings 19:1–4, (5–7), 8–15a • Psalm 42 and 43 • Galatians
3:23–29 • Luke 8:26–39
The Principalities and Powers Are Real
I have a confession to make: I believe in the Devil. I
believe in Satan, in Beelzebub, whose name means “the Lord of the Flies.” I
believe in demons and unclean spirits. I believe with the Apostle Paul that we
must put on the full armor of God, that we must equip ourselves with all of the
resources that God has made available to us through the Holy Spirit, “For our
struggle [in this life] is not against flesh and blood,”—No, it is “against the
rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and [it
is] against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph 6:11–12).
How’s that for the beginning of a sermon?
Now I know that believing in the existence of demons and the
Devil is not particularly popular in today’s scientific world. In fact, there
are even many Christians “who have a lot of doubts about things like demon
possession and exorcism.”[1] As theologian
Walter Wink once wrote, “Demons… are the drunk uncle of the twentieth century:
we keep them out of sight.”[2]
Well, today’s the day, the day we’ve been waiting for, the
day we’ve been preparing for, the day we’ve been anticipating, the day of our
Lord and Savior’s birth…. Well, not exactly. Because the birth happened last
night; it happened in the middle of the night while we were sleeping. We missed
it; the whole world missed it, save for a few shepherds who received an angelic
birth announcement.
You see, God entered the world quietly. God didn’t want the
world to know he had arrived. But not even God could keep a secret, not this
secret, not when it came to the birth of his only Son. God just had to tell
somebody. And look who he chose: some homeless guys who lived out of doors, who
worked at a job that nobody wanted, and who nobody was going to believe anyway.
And so, God’s little secret is safe, for the time being at least.
But why would God want to keep his arrival on earth a secret?...
Because God didn’t want to frighten us away. You see, something is wrong with
us; something inside of us is broken. And that something is something only God
can fix. But here’s the dilemma. That something which is broken in us also
makes us terrified of God, so terrified that God has a hard time getting close
enough to heal us with his gracious and loving presence.
Isaiah 9:2–7 • Psalm 96 • Titus 2:11–14 • Luke 2:1–14
(15–20)
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
IT IS A HOLY NIGHT
Tonight is a Holy Night. Tonight is the night that we’ve
been waiting for; tonight is the night we’ve been anticipating. Tonight is a
Holy Night because tonight—this very Eve—we enter the Mystery of Christmas.
Some of us have been preparing for this Mystery; some of us
have not. Some of us have been getting ready for four long weeks, some of us
for two weeks, some of us for two days or two hours. And some of us, have made
no preparations at all. Maybe we forgot to get ready, or maybe we didn’t know
how to get ready. But on this Holy Night, it doesn’t matter because the Mystery
of Christmas takes us all by surprise,… ready or not.
For nine months, Mary and Joseph knew what was coming. For
nine months, they made preparations as best as they could. But anyone who has
prepared for the birth of a child, not least their first child, knows that
plans have a way of changing. {For example, your wife might go into labor on
the morning of January first. And you might be living in Pasadena, California
at the time. And the Rose Bowl parade might be happening. And the parade route,
the six-mile-long parade route, just might be standing between you and Hunting
Memorial Hospital. Yes, plans have a way of changing.}
Mary and Joseph could not have predicted that Augustus would
issue an edict “that all the world should be registered.” They could not have
predicted that they would have to make a long, arduous journey, when Mary was
full to bursting. Nevertheless, they had some idea of what was coming because
an angel of the Lord had told them.
The shepherds, however, had no idea what was coming. They were
out watching their flocks by night. This is what they did every night. They
watched on Monday night, they watched on Tuesday night, they watched on Wednesday
night, and they watched on this Holy Night. Of course, it didn’t feel particularly
holy or special. It felt like any other Thursday night in the fields... Until suddenly,
they were taken by surprise when an angel of the Lord appeared. The angel told
them all about the Mystery of Christmas and invited them to come and see it for
themselves.
Mary and Joseph were prepared; the shepherds weren’t. Yet
both were invited by God to participate in the Mystery of Christmas. It is
indeed a Holy Night for the grace of God abounds for the whole wide world, every
single one of us.
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
The Mystery of Christmas
This is the season of Advent. Advent is the time of the
color blue. Blue is the color of kings and queens. Blue is a serious color, and
something serious is about to happen.
A King is coming, but this is not the kind of king that
people thought was coming. This King had no army, no great house, and no
riches. This King was a baby who was born in a barn. This King is still coming.
This is the great mystery we call Christmas.
You know, a mystery is hard to enter sometimes. That is why
this time of Advent is so important. Sometimes people can walk right through a
mystery and not even know it is there. This time of year we sometimes get so
busy and are in such a hurry that we miss the mystery. Maybe we forget to get
ready, or maybe we need to know how to get ready.
The Church learned a long time ago that people need a way to
get ready to enter or even come close to a mystery like Christmas. So the
Church set aside four weeks to get ready. This is such a great Mystery that it
takes that long to get ready…
adapted from Godly Play
The Christmas List
But what exactly can we do to get ready? Well, last week I
suggested that we each make a Christmas list. But not of the ordinary kind, not
a Christmas list with things on it like:
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
The Mystery of Christmas
This is the season of Advent. Advent is the time of the
color blue. Blue is the color of kings and queens. Blue is a serious color, and
something serious is about to happen.
A King is coming, but this is not the kind of king that
people thought was coming. This King had no army, no great house, and no
riches. This King was a baby who was born in a barn. This King is still coming.
This is the great mystery we call Christmas.
You know, a mystery is hard to enter sometimes. That is why
this time of Advent is so important. Sometimes people can walk right through a
mystery and not even know it is there. This time of year we sometimes get so
busy and are in such a hurry that we miss the mystery. Maybe we forget to get
ready, or maybe we need to know how to get ready.
The Church learned a long time ago that people need a way to
get ready to enter or even come close to a mystery like Christmas. So the
Church set aside four weeks to get ready. This is such a great Mystery that it
takes that long to get ready…
Jesus ascended to the throne in a very different sort of manner than most kings. He was and is, of course, a very different sort of king of a very different sort of kingdom. His sacrificial ascension to the throne says a lot about who Jesus is, how he rules, and the nature and values of his kingdom. It also says alot about who we are and how we are called to live as his faithful subjects in this world.
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
You Don’t Vote for Kings
Today is the last Sunday of the Christian Year, which means…
that next Sunday is the beginning of Advent. Today is also Christ the King
Sunday because on this day we celebrate the fact that Jesus is a king, and not
just a king, but the King, the one to whom God has given all authority on
heaven and on earth. And if Jesus is King, then we are his subjects. Now this
isn’t language that we are accustomed to using. After all, we live in a
democratic society, so we don’t really know what it means to live as subjects to
a king. Our leaders don’t ascend to a throne without our say; we vote for them.
How Did You Become King, Then?
This reminds me of a scene from the movie, Monty Python and
the Holy Grail. In this British comedy, King Arthur has set out on his quest for
the Holy Grail, and he comes upon an unknown castle. So he asks a couple of the
local peasants, “What knight lives in that castle over there?” The man and
woman do a lot of talking, but they don’t answer his question. So Arthur gets
impatient and begins to shout, “Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!” Taken
aback, the woman responds, “Order, eh? Who does he think he is?”
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
Going on a Journey
I want you to imagine for a moment that you are going on a
trip, and you are packing. What are you going to take with you? Pause… Well,
that’s a hard question to answer because it all depends on where you are going
and what you will be doing? For example, if you were going to visit castles in
Scotland, you would pack differently than if you were traveling to Nepal to
climb Mt. Everest. Something that would be essential on one trip, might be
unnecessary and even burdensome on a different trip.
The people of Grace have been on a journey for over 135
years. Like the Israelites, who spent forty years in the wilderness on the way
to the Promised Land, their journey has taken place in stages. There have been seasons
of travel, and there have been periods of camping in one place. This past year
the people of Grace have been in a period of transition. They have been gathering
resources, as they prepare to set out on a new leg of their journey with God. But
what will we take with us? Well, it depends upon the nature and purpose of our trip.
It depends upon what God is calling us to be and do. It depends upon what gifts
and resources God has equipped us with.
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is inus.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
All Hallows Day
Today is November 1st, and on this day we celebrate All
Saints Day. This day used to be known as All Hallows Day, and the evening
before as All Hallows Eve, which of course we have come to know as Halloween.
The Old English word “hallow” means “holy,” which is something special, set
apart, and sacred. So when we pray, “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be
thy name.” We are really saying to God, “let your name be made holy;” “may we recognize
and treat your name as sacred and special.”
Likewise, in the New Testament, the English word saint translates
the Greek word for holy. So a saint is a holy person. But—and this is a very
important point—in the New Testament, all Christians were called saints, all
Christians were regarded as holy. In other words, unlike today, it wasn’t just
a special class of Christians who were called saints. All Christians were
saints, were holy by virtue of the simple fact that they had the Holy Spirit
dwelling within them. When a person came to trust Jesus Christ, they were given
the gift of the Holy Spirit. And so, they became holy the moment they became a
Christian. That’s why, for example, when Paul writes the Christians in Ephesians,
he addresses them as saints.
Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God, To the
saints who are in Ephesus and are faithful in Christ Jesus: Grace to you and
peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ (Ephesians 1:1–2).
So today, on All Saints Day, we remember before God all
Christians who have passed way, who have been taken away by death… death, that
“shroud that is cast over all peoples, [that] sheet that is spread over all
nations” (Isaiah 25:8).
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
The Question
What do you need to follow Jesus? What do you need to follow
Jesus more closely, more consciously, and more faithfully? That’s the question
we are going to wrestle with today. What do we need to follow Jesus?
This question is directly related to the question that Jesus
poses in today’s episode: “What do you want me to do for you?” It’s a simple,
straightforward question. Yet how one answers this question has profound
implications for the life of discipleship. Jesus asks Bartimaeus, “What do you
want me to do for you?” Bartimaeus is a blind beggar, so his answer does not
surprise us: “Master, let me see again” (10:51). Jesus is merciful and grants
his request: “Go; your faith has made you well,” and immediately, Bartimaeus
regains his sight.
How remarkable, not simply because it happened immediately,
but because it happened at all. Of course, we are not surprised that Jesus
restored his sight; this has become all too familiar. But sometimes we need to
pause and reflect because, despite its familiarity, it is still remarkable. Can
you imagine what it would have been like for Bartimaeus to receive his sight,
to be called out of darkness into light, to see the face of the one who just
gave you sight?
That being said, today’s gospel is not only about the
recovery of one man’s sight. For notice how the story ends. After Bartimaeus
regains his sight, he follows Jesus on the way (10:52b). Jesus had said, “Go,”
but Bartimaeus followed. So, today’s episode is not simply a miracle story, it’s
also parable, a parable about discipleship.
What's the difference between Jesus' call to become like a child,
and his call to welcome one such child in his name?
Come, Holy Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
Back to Square One
All summer long we have been making our way through the
Gospel of Mark, and last week our story a dramatic turn. For the first eight
chapters of Mark, Jesus had been announcing the arrival of God’s kingdom. He had
demonstrated its power and presence with powerful words and powerful deeds. He exorcised
demons, cleansed lepers, and healed the lame. He raised the dead, and restored hearing
and sight to the deaf and the blind. He stilled storms, walked on the sea, and
fed thousands with just a few loaves. Surely God was with him. Yet, this Jesus
also consorted with tax-collectors and sinners and Gentiles. He disregarded
purity traditions, rewrote parts of the Law, and committed blasphemy. So
perhaps he was just crazy, or perhaps he was in league with the Devil.
So, for eight chapters the questions and the rumors and the
speculations circulated. Who is this Jesus? Is he John the Baptist, Elijah, or
one of the prophets of old? Or is he just a drunkard and a glutton, a false
prophet leading the people astray. Even his own disciples struggled to
understand Jesus and his mission. But then in last’s week’s episode, Peter
declares, “You are the Messiah.” Finally, the disciples get it right. Finally,
they have come to the conclusion that Mark’s readers have known since the opening
verse of the gospel, that Jesus is the Messiah, God’s anointed.
But this glorious moment of recognition is short-lived. As
soon as Jesus’ identity is known, he lets the disciples know the road that lies
ahead. He begins to teach them, saying, that he “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.” It sounds like the talk of a madman,
so Peter rebukes Jesus as though he had a demon; and Jesus rebukes Peter right
back. Now we are back to square one. Who is this Jesus? And what does it mean
to follow him?
How do we gather the resources we need to live lives of of grace, lives that are shaped by God’s love and forgiveness, lives that are animated by the Spirit of God’s mercy and compassion?
A Sermon on Mark 8:11–21
DOGGY BAGS
I have a confession to make. I love doggy bags. It’s true. I love eating
out at restaurants, and putting the leftovers into doggy bags, and then taking
them home for later. The bigger the bag, the better. So for me, the best
restaurants are those that offer an unlimited supply of chips or bread.
When Rebekah and I were dating, we attended church here at St. John’s. On
Sundays after worship, we would often head over to the Spaghetti Warehouse. I
loved that place. When you sat down, they would bring out miniature loaves of free
bread; one loaf after another throughout the meal, as many as you wanted. Now I
didn’t exactly stuff myself with bread, but let’s just say that by the time my
shrimp alfredo arrived, I only needed a small portion to feel satisfied. That
meant that more went into the doggy bag. I think Rebekah was a bit embarrassed
when the servers saw how much of my fettuccini went into the bag (in fact, she is a bit embarrassed even hearing the story today), but not me. It was
like getting two meals for the price of one, which satisfied me to no end.
RESISTANCE ALONG THE TRAIL OF BREADCRUMBS THE TRAIL OF BREADCRUMBS Now I begin my sermon with this talk of loaves and leftovers, because
that’s what Jesus and his disciples are talking about in today’s gospel lesson.
Of course, if you’ve been here at all during the past several weeks, you shouldn’t
be surprised by this. We have been reading through Mark’s Gospel, and we have
discovered something interesting. In five out of the last six readings, some
mention of bread or loaves or crumbs has been made. In other words, Mark has left
us a trail of breadcrumbs, a series of clues that hold the key to unlocking the
mystery of the kingdom of God. So for six weeks now, we have been following the
breadcrumbs, trying to solve the mystery of the loaves. Well, today is the day;
today we arrive at the end of the breadcrumb trail, and all will be revealed. But
before we get to today’s reading, let’s retrace some of our steps.
The trail of breadcrumbs began back in chapter six when Jesus fed five
thousand people with just five loaves of bread. Immediately, after the feeding,
Jesus put his disciples into a boat and sent them to the other side of the Sea
of Galilee, which was Gentile territory. Or at least, that was the plan. But
the disciples never made it; their hearts just weren’t in it. All night long,
they struggled to make headway against an adverse wind, but to no avail. So in
the predawn hours, Jesus came to them walking upon the sea. He had hoped to inspire
them by revealing to them his divine identity, but they failed to recognize him.
Then when he got into boat and everything became calm, the disciples were beside
themselves with astonishment. According to Mark, all of the disciples’ failures
on this trip were due to the fact that “they did not understand about the
loaves but their hearts were hardened” (6:52). It’s a very cryptic explanation.
What was it that the disciples didn’t understand? And what’s all this business
about the loaves? THE DISCIPLES' RESISTANCE TO GENTILE MISSION
Well, the loaves in question, specifically refer to the leftover
fragments following the feeding of the five thousand. After all the people had
eaten their fill, the disciples gathered up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces
of bread. Now, we normally think the baskets of leftovers are mentioned to
illustrate just how miraculous the feeding really was, and it does do that. But
the baskets of loaves signify something more. The five thousand who were fed
were all Jews, and the leftovers were intended for Gentiles. That’s why Jesus
compelled his disciples to cross over into Gentile territory as soon as the leftovers
had been collected. The disciples had just returned from a successful Jewish
mission; so Jesus was sending them on a Gentile mission. But the disciples
resisted. They didn’t understand about the loaves. They didn’t understand that
the blessings of the kingdom were meant for Jews and Gentiles. Instead, they
were fundamentally opposed to Gentile mission, and their participation in it.
They had hardened their hearts to what God was doing in their midst.
Evidence for the disciples’ resistance to Gentile mission litters trail
of breadcrumbs. In last week’s gospel, Jesus was once again playing host to a
crowd of thousands. But on this occasion, it wasn’t a crowd of Jews, but of
Gentiles. “I have compassion for the crowd,” Jesus said to his disciples,”
because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat. If I
send them away hungry to their homes, they will faint on the way” (8:2–3a). Yet
the disciples show no compassion, “How can anyone feed these people with bread
here in the desert?” (8:4). At first blush, it sounds like the disciples have
forgotten about the previous feeding. But they remember; they haven’t
forgotten. They simply don’t like the idea of feeding Gentiles. “How can anyone
give these people—these Gentiles—the blessings of the kingdom that rightfully belong
to God’s chosen people?”
Yet, despite their resistance, Jesus involves his disciples in the
Gentile feeding. After blessing seven loaves of bread, Jesus instructs the
disciples to distribute them to the people. And afterwards, the disciples pick
up seven basketfuls of leftovers, once again far more than what they began
with. Yet, despite their participation in this Gentile feeding, the disciples’
resistance to Gentile mission remains in place. It does not decrease; in fact,
it intensifies. UNDERSTANDING ABOUT THE LOAVES This brings us to today’s reading, which is the climactic episode. Jesus
and the disciples are back in the boat, and they are heading back across the Sea
of Galilee to Gentile territory. Bu Mark points out that the disciples have forgotten
to take any bread; they have no bread with them, except for a single loaf. This
leads Jesus to issue them a warning: “Watch out—beware of the yeast of the Pharisees
and the yeast of Herod.”
Now I have to tell you, this is a serious warning. Jesus isn’t playing
around. Earlier in the gospel, Jesus healed a man on the Sabbath. And it so infuriated
the Pharisees that they immediately went out and began to conspire with the
Herodians about how to destroy Jesus (3:6). But why would Jesus issue such a
warning simply because the disciples had forgotten to pack some loaves of bread?
Well, it’s because they didn’t forget; it’s because they neglected to bring
extra loaves. You see, they are headed back into Gentile territory, and they
don’t want a repeat performance of the feeding of the four thousand. And so, they
didn’t absent-mindedly forget to bring extra loaves, they intentionally neglected
to bring extra loaves. By refusing to take extra loaves, they are hoping to
prevent another Gentile feeding. But they have crossed the line; they have
moved from passive resistance to Gentile mission to active opposition to Jesus.
Jesus’ disciples have been infected with the same hardness of heart exhibited
by Jesus’ opponents. That’s why he warns them about the yeast of the Pharisees
and Herod. And that’s why he interrogates them using such harsh language:
Why are you talking about having no bread? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened?Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear?
The disciples still don’t understand about the loaves. They still don’t
understand the meaning and significance of the basketfuls of leftovers. If they
weren’t so recalcitrant, so resistant to Gentile mission, they might have the
eyes to see and the ears to hear. But they are afraid. The Jewish people have
been under foreign occupation for the better part of six hundred years. They
have been waiting for the Messiah, waiting for the arrival of God’s kingdom.
And then it happens. Jesus comes, and the people of God began to experience the
freedom and blessings of the kingdom.
But the Gentiles show up and jump in line. “It’s not fair,” say the
disciples. “Jesus, let the children be fed first; it isn’t right to take the
children’s bread away from them and give it to the Gentile dogs.” They just
don’t understand, so they resist Gentile mission. So in a last-ditch effort to
break through their hardness of heart, Jesus focuses his disciples attention on
the baskets of leftover loaves they gathered after each feeding.
Do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” They said to him, “Twelve.” “And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you collect?” And they said to him, “Seven.” Then he said to them, “Do you not yet understand?” (Mark 8:17–21).
Well, truth be told, we don’t understand either; we are in the same
boat with the disciples on this. But here’s what Jesus is trying to get his
disciples and us to understand. Both feedings produced an abundance of
leftovers. And as we have already seen, the twelve baskets of leftovers
following the Jewish feeding are for Gentiles. It follows, then, that the seven
baskets of leftovers following the Gentile feeding are for Jews, specifically those
Jews who have not yet heard or bought into the good news of the kingdom. If the
disciples are concerned that fellow Jews—who have suffered so much at the hand
of Gentiles—are going to miss out on the blessings of the kingdom because those
Gentile dogs have cut in line ahead of them, they need not worry. The blessings
of God are for Jew and Gentile alike, and there is more than enough to go
around, regardless of what order the blessings occur in.
MINISTRY IS THE EXTRA But there is a bit more that Jesus wants us to see and hear, namely
this: leftovers imply ministry. After the feedings, the disciples gathered up
the broken pieces of bread so that nothing would be lost (cf. John 6:12). Those
baskets of leftovers—those doggy bags—were meant to be consumed, not by the
disciples, but by those who had not yet tasted the good news of the kingdom. In
Jesus, God pours out his grace, love, and forgiveness without measure. In
Christian baptism, we are filled with these blessings to overflowing. And so, in
baptism, we not only enter into the kingdom of God, we are also called into ministry
because leftovers imply ministry. When God loves us, there are always leftovers.
When God forgives us, there is always extra, because the grace God gives is
always more than we need. And so, we gather up the leftovers of God’s love and
forgiveness, and we share it with others, and that is ministry because ministry
is what happens to the leftovers. As Henri Nouwen writes: “Ministry is when two
people toast their glasses of wine and something splashes over. Ministry is the
extra.”[1]
That is such an important truth because, like the disciples, there are
times when we find it hard to love and forgive, when we find ourselves
resistant to extending the grace of God to others. Sometimes, for example, we
find it hard to forgive someone who has hurt us, perhaps because they have hurt
us before and we are afraid of simply opening ourselves to more pain and
suffering. But we know that God calls us to forgive, after all, in the Lord’s
prayer, we pray “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against
us.” And so, we try to manufacture forgiveness, but it doesn’t work because our
own resources for forgiveness are so miniscule. Forgiving someone who has hurt
us—be it friend or foe—is like trying to feed thousands of hungry people with
just a few loaves and fish.
GATHERING UP THE LEFTOVERS OF GOD'S GRACE IN OUR LIVES But the truth is, we cannot manufacture forgiveness; we simply don’t
have the resources. But the good news is that we are not in the manufacturing
business; we are in the distribution business. When we forgive someone, it is
not our own forgiveness that we are offering; rather, we are extending the forgiveness
that God has blessed us with in Christ. God calls us to forgive others, but God
does not expect us to generate our own forgiveness out of our own resources.
Rather, God is expecting us to gather up the crumbs of his grace—the leftovers
from those times when we ourselves have experienced God’s forgiveness—and then
to offer those leftovers to the one who has hurt us. That is ministry because
ministry is what happens to the leftovers of God’s grace, ministry is the extra.
Now this does not make forgiveness automatic or easy, but it does make
it possible. And so, when you find it hard to forgive, when the thought of
forgiving someone triggers resistance in you, consider this. Consider taking
some time to remember specific occasions in your life when you experienced God’s
forgiveness, especially those occasions when God’s forgiveness came through
another human being. Reflect on those times and give thanks, write them down or
tell another person, for these are the ways in which we gather up the leftovers
of God’s grace. These are the ways in which we gather the resources we need to
live lives of grace, lives that are shaped by God’s love and forgiveness, lives
that are animated by the Spirit of God’s mercy and compassion.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
[1]
Nouwen with Christiansen and Laird, Spiritual
Direction, 131.
The Strange Exchange Between Jesus and the Syrophoenician Woman (Mark 7:24–30).
What did Jesus mean when when he said, "Let the children be fed first, it isn't right to take the children's bread and throw it to the dogs." And what was the Syrophoenician woman referring to when she talked about the dogs eating children's crumbs under the table? And how do the disciples fit into it all, the same disciples who earlier didn't understand about the loaves? Follow the trail of breadcrumbs and see if you can solve the mystery before Encyclopedia does.
Come, Holy
Spirit, and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our
lips and speak through them.
Take our
hearts and see through them.
Take our
souls and set them on fire. Amen.
Encyclopedia Brown and the Mystery of the Kingdom
In the evenings, I like to read to the kids while they are
eating at the dinner table. Recently, I have been reading them stories from the
Encyclopedia Brown series. If you don’t know these stories, Encyclopedia Brown
is a boy detective. His real name is Leroy, but most people call him
Encyclopedia because he is so smart. His dad is the police chief in fictional Idaville,
and so sometimes Encyclopedia helps him solve crimes that have stumped the
police. But mostly, he solves cases around his neighborhood. There are two
things I like about these stories. First, they are short. And second, each
story provides all of the clues that readers need to solve the mystery on their
own. Sometimes the clues are obvious. But sometimes you have to reread the
story a couple of times before you figure it out. And sometimes, you just have
to look up the answers in the back of the book. This technique makes the reader
more active, more engaged, more involved in the story.
The Gospel of Mark does something quite similar. Mark is also
a mystery story. It is a mystery about the kingdom of God, set in the small backwater
region of Galilee on the outskirts of the great Roman Empire. At the center of
this mystery is an obscure Jew, named Jesus. And everybody in the story is
trying to figure out who he is and where he gets his power and authority to
preach, to exorcise demons, to pronounce forgiveness, to heal the sick, and to
do a host of other things. Now Mark has left his readers clues to help them
discover for themselves the true nature of Jesus’ identity and mission. Some of
the clues are obvious; others not so much. Sometimes Mark’s stories about Jesus
make sense to us on the first reading, and sometimes we have to go back and
read them over and over again, pondering them in our hearts and minds. And sometimes we wish we could just look up the
answers in the back of the book.[1]
Jesus’s Response to the Syrophoenician Woman… Gentile
Prejudice?
Take today’s episode with Jesus and the Syrophoenician
woman.
In Mark 6:45-53, Mark recounts the episode of Jesus walking on the sea. The disciples have been sent to the other side of the sea, but they struggle through the night against an adverse wind. When Jesus comes to them, walking on the sea, the narrator says something very curious, "He intended to pass by." Moreover, the episode ends with a very enigmatic statement. “And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened” (6:52). So what's going on here in Mark, and how might it relate to us?
ENSURING THAT CHANGE IS A SUSTAINABLE BLESSING
I have a good friend named Rob Voyle (clergyleadership.com). I first met Rob at the
General Convention in Anaheim, California in 2009. We met through a mutual
friend, and we both had booths in the convention hall. At the end of the first
full day, Rob came by my booth, and said with his New Zealand accent, “Let’s go
get a beer, mate.” I was tired, and I don’t actually like beer, but I went along
anyway, and I am glad I did because Rob is brilliant. Rob is a priest, a
psychologist, and a consultant.
In his work as a church consultant, folks often say to Rob,
“People don’t like change, especially church people.” But Rob disagrees. It’s
not change per se that people don’t like, but the type of change that people
will either accept or reject. “People don’t want to be changed; they want to be
blessed” (Dr. Stephen Gilligan). For example, if you get a raise at work, you’re
happy; that’s the sort of change you like. So if you have ever experienced a
blessing in life, you have experienced some kind of change. And that is Rob’s
passion in life, helping people and organizations ensure that the changes they
seek to make are sustainable blessings.
The Kingdom of God
When Jesus announced the arrival of God’s kingdom, he was announcing
change. “The kingdom of God is at hand; repent—be changed—and believe the good
news” (1:15). Now some people experienced the kingdom as a blessing, not least
those whom Jesus healed by the power of the kingdom. But others, such as the
scribes and Pharisees, opposed the Jesus’ kingdom proclamation, for they did
not perceive him or his message as a blessing.
But it wasn’t just religious opponents who exhibited
resistance. On occasion, Jesus’ own disciples show signs of resisting the
kingdom of God. That’s what we see in today’s gospel. And again, it wasn’t
simply that the disciples didn’t like change. After all they gave up their
livelihoods to follow Jesus because they believed that life with Jesus was
better than life without Jesus. But they did not welcome every change that the
kingdom entailed. And that’s what I want us to look at today.
Dining with Herod in the Kingdom of Hell vs. Dining with Jesus in the Kingdom of Heaven
In the Gospel of Mark, the author inserts the flashback-story of John the Baptist's death right before Jesus' feeding of the five thousand. In doing this, Mark sets up a contrast between Herod Antipas and Jesus, between the this worldly-values of Rome as reflected in his macabre birthday banquet and between the values of the Kingdom of God as embodied in the banquet Jesus hosts for five thousand people who are hungry for truth and bread.
A few weeks ago, on June 24th, we celebrated the Feast of
the Nativity of John the Baptist. That is, we celebrated John the Baptist’s
birthday. In today’s gospel, we find ourselves at another feast where we
witness the circumstances and events that led to John’s death. I call it the Banquet
from Hell.
As we all know, John the Baptist was the forerunner of Jesus
the Messiah. When the Gospel of Mark opens, when the curtain lifts, John is the
first character we see on stage. He is dressed like the prophet Elijah, and he
is out in the Judean wilderness announcing the imminent arrival of God’s
kingdom. “The Lord is coming soon. Prepare the way of the Lord. Repent, and be
baptized for the forgiveness of your sins.” John’s message struck a chord.
Crowds of people were heading out into the wilderness to be baptized by John,
to make themselves reading for the coming of God’s kingdom. In short, John was
leading a spiritual revival, so how does he end up with his head on a dinner
platter? Why would anybody kill a baptist, some crazy guy who was out in the
middle of nowhere dunking people in a river?
RCL • Year B • Proper 6 • Track 2 Ezekiel 17:22-24 • Psalm 92:1-4, 11-14 2 Corinthians 5:6-10, (11-13), 14-17 Mark 4:(21-25)26-34
The Kingdom of God is Like…
Today’s gospel lesson comes from the fourth chapter of Mark.
Up to this point in the narrative, Jesus has been announcing the arrival of
God’s kingdom, “Repent,” he would say, “for the kingdom of God has come near.”
In other words, “Take notice, God’s kingdom is taking over this broken world; and
God demands your allegiance. This is good news.” And Jesus demonstrated the
presence of God’s kingdom with powerful words and powerful deeds. He preached
with an authority that astounded the crowds; he expelled demons with just a
word; and he healed the sick with just a touch. People were amazed. But not
everyone saw these things as evidence of God’s kingdom at work. As we heard
last week, Jesus’ own family thought he was mental unstable and the scribes
claimed he was possessed by Satan.
So Jesus began to be more careful; he began to operate more
covertly. For example, instead of speaking about God’s kingdom in plain
language, he began to cloak the gospel in little stories that we call parables.
Jesus hid the kingdom from plain view so that it might have a better chance to
get behind people’s natural defenses. In other words, Jesus used parables as a
way to smuggled the gospel behind enemy lines. He hid the kingdom, so that the
kingdom might be revealed. As he himself said, “There is nothing hidden, except
to be disclosed; nor is anything secret, except to come to light” (4:22). He
hid the kingdom to reveal the kingdom. This may sound absurd, but this is exactly
what every farmer and gardener does. This is what we do. We hide seeds in the
earth precisely so that they will come to light. If we didn’t hide seeds in
this way, we would never experience harvest.
In today’s gospel, Jesus tells two parables about seeds and sowers
to reveal something about the kingdom of God. Note that in both parables,
someone plants a seed, and then what happens with the seed is completely out of
their control. For example, in the first parable, a farmer plants a seed, and
then he goes about his normal life. And despite his lack of attention and
effort, the seed grows.
Frog and Toad, “The Garden”
This reminds me of a story that I read as a kid and that I
like to read to my kids now. It is a story about Frog and Toad. Have you ever heard
these stories. If you haven’t, Frog and Toad are good friends, very good
friends. And if you read their stories, you soon discover that Frog is the
sensible one, and Toad, not so much.
On Thursday, Rebekah and I celebrated our twenty-first
wedding anniversary. As I think back over the past twenty-one years, I can’t
help but give thanks for all the blessings that God has given us, not least our
four wonderful children. But I am also struck by how much I have grown as a
person as a direct result of being married to Rebekah.
I have a friend who is a priest, his name is Fr. Jim Clark.
And Fr. Jim once told me how he does marriage counseling. He sits the couple
down, and offers two pieces of advice. First, he looks at the woman and says,
“You have a project on your hands.” And then he turns to the man and says, “She
is the Holy Spirit [to you.]” Now when I first heard this, my egalitarian
sensibilities were slightly offended. After all, this didn’t seem to be
particularly balanced or mutual. But for the most part, I think this is how our
marriage has played out. Let me offer just one example.
When we were first married, Rebekah would come home from
school or work and begin telling me about her day. If it hadn’t been a
particularly good day, and she was feeling bad, I would listen, and then I
would do one of two things. I would either explain why she didn’t need to feel
so bad, or I would offer suggestions on how to fix the situation. I thought I
was being helpful, but my advice and explanations rarely made her feel better, and
in actuality they generally had the opposite effect. Rebekah would complain, “I
want you to listen.” And I would say, “I am listening.” But I wasn’t listening,
not really. I hadn’t learned to listen or empathize. Instead life had taught me
to solve problems and fix things, to such a degree that I really didn’t know
the difference between listening and giving advice, the difference between
empathizing and fixing.
So early on in our marriage, Rebekah gave me John Gray’s
book, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus. I read it. Reluctantly and
suspiciously, I read it. And my eyes began to open, ever so slowly. For
example, Gray writes:
When a woman is talking about the problems of her day,
rather than assuming she is looking for solutions and giving solutions, a man
can instead recognize that she is just needing to talk about her day and as a
result she will feel better. With this insight, he is free to relax and listen
without trying to interrupt with solutions (xxii).
Today, this all sounds like common sense to me, but twenty
years ago it was a complete revelation. I found it incredible. How could the simple
act of listening help Rebekah feel better? But it did, and it does.
“Mrs. Anderson, I don’t want you to do anything; I just want
you to listen.”
Last week, I was driving in my car, and I turned on the
radio and tuned it to NPR. And I got in on the tail end of an interview with an
artist who designs and sells greeting cards online (emilymcdowell.com). Her
name is Emily McDowell. Emily was being interviewed because she had just
released a new and rather unique line of cards, which she calls Empathy Cards.
Not Sympathy Cards, mind you, but Empathy Cards, which have been especially
designed for people with a serious illness. Emily herself is a cancer survivor,
and she writes:
The most difficult part of my illness wasn’t losing
my hair, or being erroneously called “sir” by Starbucks baristas, or sickness
from chemo. It was the loneliness and isolation I felt when many of my close
friends and family members disappeared because they didn’t know what to say, or
said the absolute wrong thing without realizing it.
She continues:
Most of us struggle to find the right words
in the face of a friend or loved one’s major health crisis, whether it’s
cancer, chronic illness, mental illness, or anything else. It’s a really tough
problem; someone we love needs our support more than ever, but we don’t have
the right language for it…..
With
Empathy Cards, my goal is to help people connect with each other through truth
and insight…. I want the recipients of these cards to feel seen, understood,
and loved.
Here are a few examples of her cards. The first one is very simple. The front of the
card simply says, “There is no good card for this. I’m so sorry.”
Another one
says, “I’m really sorry I haven’t been in touch. I didn’t know what to say.”
And you know that situation. Where you don’t know what to say, and so you don’t
say anything. And time passes, and the space becomes awkward, and you don’t
know how to break that awkwardness. Well here’s a card for you. It lets them
know that you care in an honest way.
Now the next two
cards are my favorites because they use humor.
This next one has to
be my absolute favorite.
Emily
McDowell writes about this card:
Why is it that when you’re sick with a
life-threatening disease, so many people feel the need to tell you about
someone they know who died of the thing
you have? It’s crazy how often this happens. Not only is it unhelpful, it’s
actually quite terrifying. Please, everyone, stop doing this.
And so if this
happens to be your impulse, buy the card and send it instead.
Instead of answering the question, some people modified the question.
So for example, Gary Larson, the famous originator of the Far Side cartoons,
asks this question: “If a tree falls in the forest and no one’s around and it
hits a mime,… does anyone care?”
