The
Church That Christ Chooses
Mark
3:13-17, Exodus 19:1-6
October
1, 2017
FPUC
Owego Bicentennial
William G. Carter
(Jesus) went up the mountain and called to him
those whom he wanted, and they came to him. And
he appointed twelve, whom he also named apostles, to be with him, and to be sent out to
proclaim the message, and to have authority to cast out demons. So he appointed the twelve: Simon (to whom he gave the name
Peter); James son of Zebedee and
John the brother of James (to whom he gave the name Boanerges, that is, Sons of
Thunder); and Andrew, and Philip,
and Bartholomew, and Matthew, and Thomas, and James son of Alphaeus, and
Thaddaeus, and Simon the Cananaean, and
Judas Iscariot, who betrayed him.
Every
time I come into this building, I am overwhelmed with memories. This is a room
full of people I love, some of them living, some of them dead and cheering us on from the bleachers of heaven. I can’t come into this
room without hearing my father sing, “Holy, Holy, Holy” in a voice so low that it
could crack concrete. He sang it loudly because the church taught him to
believe the words.
It
was here that Sheldon Seibel presented my third grade Bible which I read during
all the sermons I couldn’t understand. It was here that the Holy Spirit brought
faith alive in my heart and mind, and here where faith was confirmed three
times by prayer and the laying on of hands: first at my confirmation, then at
my ordination as a teenage deacon, and 32 years ago this weekend as a minister
of Word and Sacrament.
It
was here that a pastor’s son and I made paper airplanes out of worship
bulletins and dropped them from the balcony “accidentally on purpose.” It was
here a youth minister told us that behind all those marble tablets on the walls
are the earthly remains of those they name. And it was here that I was asked to
play the piano in God’s sanctuary for the first time. It was Christmas Eve, the
song was “Silent Night,” and nobody told me in advance that they would turn out
the lights. Nobody gave me a candle!
It
was here that I came to learn and love the Bible. I learned a lot of texts that
stick with me. The 23rd Psalm, the Beatitudes, and the Lord’s Prayer
earned me that third grade Bible. Words like “Let not your hearts be troubled”
and “Rejoice in the Lord always” give confidence to my soul. “Enter his courts
with thanksgiving” remind me how John Calvin says the primary virtue is
gratitude, a virtue far above my head. The Holy Spirit brings the Bible alive
in this room.
But
as much as I learned, the one question where I will always stumble is the
question that the Gospel of Mark answers for us this morning: What are the
names of the twelve apostles?
Simon
Peter, James and John. Andrew, Phillip, and Bartholomew. Matthew, Thomas, and
the other James. Thaddaeus, Simon the Canaanean, and Judas Iscariot. There are
twelve of them, just like the twelve tribes of Israel – and I couldn’t name
those tribes either, not without some help. We should be gentle on ourselves.
Many of us past the age of forty can’t remember the three things that we wanted
to pick up in the grocery store.
The
Gospel of Mark makes a list of the twelve apostles, those Jesus appointed to
stay with him. That’s not to say they all stayed with him. They weren’t
perfect. There is Judas, of course. But the other eleven also scattered after
Jesus was arrested. Jesus chose them, and they weren’t perfect.
In
fact, of all the Gospels, Mark is the one who paints the most negative picture
of the twelve. Every time Jesus asked a question, they got it wrong. He taught
them every day, and they never understood. One day, he explained how he would
be crucified in Jerusalem, and the twelve started bickering among themselves.
He said, “What are you arguing about?” And they said, “Lord, which one of us
twelve apostles is the most important?” They didn’t understand him.
Simon Peter,
James and John. Andrew, Phillip, and Bartholomew. Matthew, Thomas, and the
other James. Thaddaeus, Simon the Canaanean, and Judas Iscariot. That is the
list. There are a few things that I want you to notice.
It’s not a
complete list.
These are the names of twelve men, and everybody knows there are more women in
church than there are men. That is a statistic to be proved by looking around.
Elsewhere, the New Testament reminds us that some women followed Jesus and
funded the ministry of Jesus out of their own purses.[1] It
never says the men coughed up any money. They argued about money but they
didn’t seem to contribute any. Mark’s list is not complete. Women belong on the
list. And in many congregations, women actually run the place.
What’s more,
this is not an accurate list. Forget what somebody told you about the
Bible. The Bible does not exactly agree who is on the list.[2]
Matthew copies Mark’s list, but Luke doesn’t mention Thaddaeus. Instead he
mentions a second man named Judas, son of James. And when we get over to the
Gospel of John, he mentions somebody named Nathanael. We don’t even know who
that is. Some pious scholars scramble to say things like Thaddaeus, Judas, and
Nathanael are all the same person – but the Bible doesn’t worry about
straightening that out.
The
only time we see anything like all twelve disciples standing still is when
Leonardo DaVinci told them to get on the same side of the table so he could
paint them into his picture!
This
is not a complete list. It is not an accurate list. But let me say it: this is a diverse list. Sure, Mark tells us about
twelve men. In our imaginations, we can picture them at thirty years old with
curly hair. Yet it’s hard to imagine a group like this ever being convened.
There
are two sets of brothers, Simon and Andrew, James and John. They left behind
their fishing boats and their fathers. Jesus came from the hill country, a
euphemism for “the sticks.” We don’t know anything about Thomas, Thaddaeus, or
James 2.0.
But
we know something about Matthew – a tax collector, a despised collaborator who
worked for the Empire. He swindled his own neighbors to fund the foreign soldiers
who occupied their town.
Standing
next to Matthew is Simon the Canaanean – a Zealot, a revolutionary with a
dagger under his cloak, ready to take out the tax collectors like Matthew. And
Jesus called both of them to be part of his team. That would be like inviting Al
Sharpton handing the matzoh to Pat Robertson to the same Passover Seder. Or
seating Mitch McConnell and Elizabeth Warren in the same church pew.
Not
only that. We are pretty sure that eleven of the disciples came from the
northern territory of Galilee. The twelfth may have been the man from Kerioth –
“ish-Kerioth” or “Iscariot” – Kerioth was a town way down south in Judah. So
there may have been eleven Yankees and Judas the Confederate. Jesus wants them
all at his side. Diverse backgrounds, different political views, distinct
geographies – none of that matters to him, because he chooses them all.
Think
of how remarkable that is, that the grace of Jesus Christ would transcend human
opinions and divisions!
In
the year 1849, a thirteen year old boy sat in these pews. His name was
Washington Gladden. He grew up to become a nationally known preacher and writer,
so famous that they named my elementary school after him. In 1849, he worshiped
here every week, twice a Sunday, with morning and evening worship services.
According
to his autobiography, it didn’t always go well. As he wrote, “I will not deny
that those sermons were often a weariness of the flesh. A keen theological
argument would have been interesting, but it was largely a restatement of
platitudes; it hardly ever touched life in the remotest way.”[3] Obviously
those were the days before John Mahler.
One
Sunday in 1849, the minister stood in this pulpit and prayed for African
American slaves. There was a furious outcry from a lot of the members, all of
them white: “How dare he do that?” Then there was another outcry from another
group of church members, who disagreed with the first group and approved of the
minister’s prayer. Sounds just like church, doesn’t it?
The
split became so vicious that the second group, including Gladden and his
family, moved down the block to create the Congregational church. These were
all Christians, with different views.
And
it wasn’t until 1912, probably for reasons both theological and economical,
that the two competing congregations reunited. Washington Gladden, now retired
and living in the area, helped to broker that reunion. Decades after the Civil
War, the Christians got over themselves and reaffirmed that they belonged
together.
That
latter moment provides the photograph of the true Gospel. Diverse, young, old,
male as well as female, whoever, wherever, however. There is no unanimity in
the group, but there is harmony as Christ calls us to sing together. That’s the
World Communion truth and the point of it all. Standing at the center of this
new community is Jesus. He is what they hold in common.
Look
at the list. We have two sets of brothers: Peter and Andrew, and James and
John. But that can be awkward. Ever have two brothers who agree on everything? I
love my brother; we agree on a lot of things, but not everything.
And
who knows how many of them were married? Earlier this Gospel says Simon Peter
had a mother-in-law. I guess that means he had a wife. But we don’t know her
name, or how she felt about him quitting the fish business and running after
Jesus. Did they have kids? Did she have to watch them while he gallivanted
around Galilee?
It’s
almost as if Mark says that family status is irrelevant when it comes to
following Jesus. What matters is that you know that he is calling you into a
community called “Church” – and that he is giving you work to do.
That
brings us to the heart of the matter. Jesus
calls the twelve and gives them two-fold work: to proclaim his Message and to
cast out the demons.
The
Message proclaimed is clear: that God is coming close, that God shall rule over
earth as clearly as God rules heaven, and that we must make the necessary
adjustments to welcome God’s ownership of our lives. “Preach the Message,”
Jesus says. The time is right here, God rules over us right now, so change your
lives to claim God’s love.[4]
To
cast out demons is first-century code language for confronting everything that
resists God. If illness twists people out of shape, we must confront it. If
hatred oppresses a human life, we must cast out the hatred. If evil sneaks in,
and entices us to give in to lesser gods, we speak the truth that only the God
of heaven is worthy of allegiance. It is hard work casting out the demons, if
only because they look so respectable. But Jesus gives ordinary people his power.
He equips them to work together, to make a difference for God and humanity.
This
is what matters. Jesus calls together a bunch of diverse people, with different
backgrounds and skills. He says, “Proclaim the authority of God over all of
human life!”
From
this we can extract all kinds of ideas. Here’s one: in Christ’s diverse community
called “church,” you might not get your way all the time. You might not get
your way at all. Instead you are called to work together to pursue God’s way.
The most important question before the church is always this: What does it
mean, in our place, in our time, that God rules over human lives? What would it
look like for us to build the love of God? To welcome the justice of God? To do
the work of God?
I’ve
noticed that when churches stop asking these questions, they start to fizzle
out. Perhaps they get tangled in personality disputes; the “Sons of Thunder”
start mouthing off rather taking care of the neighborhood, or Matthew the
tax-collector and Simon the revolutionary start plotting harm to one another in
the parking lot. If a church, like any other organization, is merely a human
organization, it can go off the rails in a hundred different ways. And it will
need a Book of Order to keep Christian disciples from beating up on one
another.
But
the true church of Jesus is always more than a human organization. It is a holy
fellowship, commissioned by Jesus to do the work of God. We are God’s tactical
team on this planet. We welcome God’s Breath to fill our lungs, we pray for God’s
Power to push us into action, and we know God’s Spirit will raise our spirits.
Christ infuses his people with his own presence. When we put a bridle on our
own whims, when we submit our willfulness to God’s greater will, the Gospel
Message takes on skin and bones – and the world’s demons can be chased away.
That
is why we are here, my friends. That is why he chooses us. We are part of a
world-wide movement to enflesh the life of Jesus Christ. We are here to love
all the people that Jesus loves. We are here to do the work that Jesus inaugurated.
And to every destructive power that threatens God’s children, we say, “Christ
is risen! Get you gone!”
We
don’t have to have faith all figured out in advance. We don’t have to be right
about everything. We don’t have to compel everybody else to agree with us. We
don’t have to worry about who is on the list and who is not, because it is not
our list. It is Jesus’ list.
So
we gather around his Table to sing that Jesus our Lord is at the center of it
all. In broken bread, we affirm that his steady work of salvaging the world is
the most important work of all. We do this work together, and we do this work
with him. It won’t be easy. Crosses will be handed to us. Betrayers will appear
from time to time. Faith will be tested. Even strong Simon Peter will have
moments when he thinks he is unworthy, and he probably is.
But
here we are, “chosen of the Lord and precious.” We are the church that Christ
chooses. Look around. We are the kind of people that Jesus loves. We are the
ones who bear his love to the world. And if Jesus can love us, he can love
everybody. It's our job to say so - and to love them on his behalf.
Happy
birthday, church of God! Let’s proclaim God’s love and get on with our work.
©
William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
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