Saturday, January 27, 2024

Tempted By Success

Mark 1:29-39
January 28, 2024
4th Epiphany
William G. Carter

As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.


There’s a woman who said, “I think it would be good to get away for a while.” It had been a busy stretch: the holidays and their exhausting routines, demands of family, expectations at work. A few friends who were going through troubles of their own. So, she did what a lot of people do when life closes in: she contacted the travel agent. Picture that big poster of the teal water, the white sandy beach, the bright orange sun. It is a long way from here. That is a significant part of the appeal.

For those who can afford it, and for some who cannot, there is nothing like a getaway.

As some of you know, I once belonged to a study group with a dozen other preachers. It disbanded in 2020, two months before the pandemic hit. If that group had kept going, we would have been in a beach town in Florida, just about the time Pennsylvania temperatures dropped down to five degrees. This year, a couple of us were reminiscing through text messages: “It’s Sunday, we would have been in the karaoke joint beneath the palm trees.” “It’s Tuesday, time for breakfast on the pier.” “It is Thursday. Wish we were getting crepes and eggs.”

To quote the late poet Jimmy Buffett, the “change in latitudes” really did create “changes in attitudes.”

There’s nothing new about it. Sixty-five years ago, Frank Sinatra was crooning an old song by Matt Dennis:

Let's take a boat to Bermuda
Let's take a plane to Saint Paul.
Let's take a kayak to Quincy or Nyack,
Let's get away from it all.

Let's take a trip in a trailer
No need to come back at all.
Let's take a powder to Boston for chowder,
Let's get away from it all.[1]

The Gospel of Mark tells us that Jesus got away from it all. The story we heard today is one of three specific occasions that are worthy of mention in this Gospel. The third occasion was in the Garden of Gethsemane, as Jesus wrestled with the demands of the cross. The second occasion was immediately after feeding five thousand people in a place near Capernaum. Then there’s the occasion, which occurs after a very full day of work.

Jesus has been preaching and teaching and driving out the demons. He is so successful that anybody with any problems takes notice. As the Sabbath day concludes, they swarm around him, asking for help. He heals as many as he can, working late into the night. The next morning, he gets up before dawn, and he gets away from it all.

Most of us know how that is. You don’t have to be a healer like Jesus to feel some of that pressure. Maybe you are a mom, the kids always want something from you, including that big baby you’re married to who has a head cold. Or maybe you’re in business, the reports are due, the boss is insistent, and the whole machine will not let up on its demands. Or maybe you are sandwiched between grown kids and aging parents, and you’re feeling squeezed by needs and expectations.

Or maybe you are just plain tired. I don’t know if you realized that is a spiritual diagnosis, but it is. There’s a New Testament church that got a letter, the “Letter to the Hebrews.” The writer says, “Lift your drooping hands, strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet.” It sounds that church is tired, so tired that some of them are skipping out of worship.[2] Imagine that.

In the story we’ve heard today, it sounds like we have a glimpse of the human side of Jesus: he’s tired, he’s worn out, he’s taking some time for prayer. As somebody describes the scene,

Jesus knew that he needed help. He knew that he could not live in this world without God. If he was forever going to be giving out, he must sometimes be taking in. If he was going to spend himself for others, he must spend time spiritually refreshing himself. Jesus knew that it was not humanly possible to accomplish all that he needed to accomplish every day of his life in his own strength alone. He also knew that he didn't have to. Not when the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-wise God, his loving Father was ever present, ready to provide, whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, however he needed it. All he had to do was ask. The Bible says we have not because we ask not. If we ask, we will receive.[3]

I think that preacher is on to something. That is why this scene from Jesus’ life is more than an escape. It is more substantial than a quick trip away.

Did you ever notice that a vacation can be exhausting? It takes a lot of work to get away from our work. Some of us struggle to know how to relax. For others, it is difficult to sit and be quiet, and for others, they go on their getaway and take everything with them: all the noise, all the commotion, all the music, all the clothing, all the stuff. They pack all their burdens in their suitcases and drag them along. (I’m the only one who does this, right?) Sometimes we need to take a vacation after we return from the vacation.

All our activity can wear us out, unless we learn how to be still, and to receive. This is a primary spiritual practice: hushing before God, praying to God, receiving from God. It is simple, really. You just have to do it. And you do not have to go away far. As Jesus will teach us, “Whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”[4] Go to the secret place, the quiet place, the deserted place - - and pray. In a noise-drenched, fast-paced, achievement-oriented, commotion-filled world, there is no better advice.

But there is something else about this story that is helpful to remember. Do you remember how Mark describes the location where Jesus goes? He calls it “a deserted place.” The word in Greek is heramos, which is translated “deserted place,” “lonely place,” “wilderness,” or “desert.” According to the text, Jesus has been there before. John the Baptist was preaching in the heramos. Jesus went to hear him in the heramos. After Jesus was baptized by John, the Holy Spirit threw him into the heramos. And out there, in the heramos, he dealt with big decisions about what God wanted him to do. The Tempter tried to steer him away from necessary things.

So, after a busy day, after working late into the night, where does Jesus go when he gets up in the morning? Into the heramos. Because when the sun comes up, he will be tested. In fact, which is exactly what happens. The Voice of temptation comes in the voice of Simon Peter: “Hey, where have you been? Everybody is looking for you!” Do you hear that? “Hey Jesus, last night you really wowed them – everybody is hunting for you!” In that moment, there was no greater temptation for Jesus than to listen to the voice of popularity.

After a night like that, if he were to stay in Capernaum, he could settle down and enjoy the adoration of his neighbors. Everybody could start thinking of him as the local Medicine Man. He could heal the physicians, teach the rabbis, and put the funeral directors out of business. That sounds tempting. Everybody could like you. You wouldn’t have to spread the Word and start a movement; you could simply stay where everybody liked you.

Simon Peter hunts for Jesus and says, “Hey, you really impressed them. Everybody is hunting for you.” And that’s why Jesus gives his unusual reply: “Let’s get moving then. There are a lot of places where I need to preach and heal.” He has discerned the work of God is not about winning popularity contests. It is about getting on with the challenges God has set before him. He worked that through in the heramos.

It strikes me that this kind of prayerful clarity is rare. He goes to a quiet place, and his prayer is for a purpose. It is not merely for spiritual refreshment, but for guidance and direction. It’s not merely filling the tank but steering the car. “God, why am I here?” Not merely asking what others expect of me or reflecting on what I want to do. It’s asking: What does God put before me today?

In 1939, the theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer slipped out of his home country of Germany. Storm clouds were forming. Hitler was amassing an army and planning a war. Bonhoeffer had academic friends in New York. They said, “Come here and teach. Escape the insanity. You have been here before; you know it’s safe.” So, he went. He was a pacifist. He had no time for Hitler’s goose-stepping soldiers or antisemitic hatred.

Yet after a brief getaway in Manhattan, something did not seem right. There was an international catastrophe forming at home. He was retreating from it, even for the best of reasons. As he wrote to one of his colleagues,

I have made a mistake in coming to America. I must live through this difficult period of our national history with the Christian people of Germany. I have no right to participate in the reconstruction of Christian life in Germany after the war if I do not share the trials of this time with my people.[5]

His mind resolute, he returned home and quietly engaged in the struggle that he knew he needed to do.

I am reminded of how the way of Jesus runs counter to so many messages of our time. When the world pushes a getaway on us, they encourage us to run three steps ahead of responsibility, or to spend a lot of money, or to drink more Margaritas than we really need. We turn on the football games, eat our chicken wings, and are tempted to forget how many people go hungry in our rich nation. That is what our getaway culture wants us to avoid. Avoid reality.

Yet the discipleship way is a different way. We can enjoy a good football game or save for a fun vacation, but we are always called upon to love God and neighbor 24-7. And nowhere in the Bible does it declare that we can put our affluence at the expense of other people’s well-being. Jesus came preaching, “This is God’s world. The dominion of God is right here.” And he worked tirelessly to make the world a healthier, safer, and holier place.

“Let’s get moving again,” he says to Simon and the others, “for that is what I have come to do.”

So, the Gospel text today calls us in two complimentary directions: be still and get to work. Listen to God and care for others. Pray in such a way that our souls are replenished and engage the pain of the neighborhood. It is both-and, a rhythm of spiritual depth and social justice. In the name of Jesus, they belong together.

There is a balance between what we do and what we refrain from doing. Hard work invites us to rest our bodies and tend our souls. Prayerful silence clarifies our purpose and reanimates our efforts. The spiritual life is an engaged life, rooted in God and directed toward others.

So, take advantage of our prayer time today. Lean back into the arms of a God who offers to restore our souls. Listen for the whispers of grace, and trust God will equip you for every challenge. And after you say Amen, open your eyes and look around. We are called to serve a world of need. That is why God granted that moment of prayer and rest. And when you get right to the heart of it, selfless service to others is the reason we are here.


(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

[1] “Let’s Get Away from It All,” Matt Dennis and Tom Adair

[2] Hebrews 12:12-13. See also Hebrews 10:25.

[3] Cynthia Hale, “Early Morning Rendezvous,” http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/hale_4420.htm

[4] Matthew 6:6

[5] Letter to Reinhold Niebuhr, quoted in Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Man of Vision, Man of Courage (New York: Harper & Row, Publishers, 1970) 559.

Saturday, January 20, 2024

Not As the Scribes

Mark 1:21-28
Epiphany 3
January 21, 2024
William G. Carter

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.

 

Years ago, when I was on vacation, I visited a church without telling anybody who I was. It is my habit to worship whether I’m working or not, so I slipped in the back and sat down. After a brief prayer to prepare my heart, I opened my eyes and looked around. I observed activities that I never see when I am upfront.

Some slipped in late, others slipped out early. Some paid attention, a teenager spent the hour tapping his phone, and one of the choir members took a nap. A note was passed, a few words whispered. Candy was unwrapped, cough drops were shared. The organist began a hymn at a sprightly tempo, the congregation did their best to slow her down. I do have to say the preacher started with a lot of energy, but twenty minutes later, he was running on fumes. It was quite the education.

So, when I hear today’s account of a worship service in the seaside village of Capernaum, I can’t help but wonder what everybody noticed. It was the first time Mark tells us that Jesus spoke in public. He has been baptized. He’s been tested. He snatched two fishermen out of their boat, and two more after that. When the weekend comes, he stepped into the village synagogue.

Every eye was on him, as he stepped up to the podium. He was in holy space. It was the Sabbath, holy time. Although Mark does not mention it, no doubt Jesus opened the ancient scroll to the text for the day, put it into the air, and then sat in the teacher’s seat. Everybody leaned forward, and he was good. Really good. The audience began to nod in agreement. They were awakened by his insight. Somebody said, “He didn’t download that sermon from the internet.” Another said, “Yes, isn’t it refreshing that he’s not reading us a book report on Leviticus?” Not like the scribes! 

No, the lesson was fresh. The speaker was energized. Since he was new, no doubt he spoke his signature sermon, that God’s kingdom has come close, that God is the rightful ruler over all things, that God rules over our hearts, our minds, our lives, our community, our world. Just then, someone over here stood and started to scream at him. Jesus raised his voice. The man tried to out-shout him. “I know who you are, Jesus of Nazareth. What have you come to do? Have you come to destroy us?”

Suddenly, that pleasant sermon, with all its power and authority, was interrupted. And I am wondering what the people there were thinking, what they were feeling. Has this happened before? Was this man subject to temper tantrums? Was he unstable? Did something set him off? Had something gotten into him? That’s how they would have diagnosed him in the first century: “he had an unclean spirit.” Something got into him. What was it? They didn’t wonder about it. They just knew. Something possessed him. For the moment, maybe longer, it held the rest of them hostage.

It can happen. It does happen. Maybe there is a person who gets too big for their britches, and the rest of the congregation allows it to happen. Power is lodged unofficially in someone accustomed to calling the shots. Then the new preacher comes to town and there is a showdown. It can happen.

It happened not far from here. The new preacher came, got the lay of the land, peeked into all the locked closets, mapped out the territory. Then, one Sunday, she stood to say, “There’s no way we will ever balance our budget by selling Welsh cookies.” It got very quiet. Then the murmurs ensued. Threats were uttered. Ultimatums were made. A line was drawn in the sand. The preacher stuck to her guns. The treasurer quit, in a most public display of anger. The murmurs got louder. The preacher moved on. The Sunday after she left, the treasurer came back and was re-elected. Cookies were sold again. And it came to pass that the church ran out of money, shut down operations, and sold the building. Nobody thanked the preacher for telling the truth.

There are unseen forces that can infect any of us, especially when we are a group or a community. Mark calls it “an unclean spirit.” Please understand that is a first century diagnosis. And it is a little spooky: the man with the unclean spirit knows the preacher’s name. “I know who you are, Jesus of Nazareth.” Who told him that? And he perceives a deep threat: “Have you come out to destroy us?” Who’s the “us”? The empire of demons? The congregation? The status quo? All three, probably. It is often easy to identify the troublemaker. It is a lot harder to identify those who are enabling the situation, saying nothing, or putting up with the trouble or quietly acquiescing to the way things have always been.

In our day, one of the most sinister evils is the spirit of addiction. Starts with pleasure, enjoyment, a little lift to get us through the day. It is not illegal. I have the freedom to decide for myself. Don’t get on my case. I know when to stop. On it goes. Then energy is redirected. Money is reappropriated. A new refrigerator is bought just for the beer. The bourbon’s hidden in the laundry basket. Denials cover up lies. There are irrational outbursts. I can stop tomorrow. And it’s not a “thing.” It’s a spirit. It’s invisible. It takes over. It feeds on its own obsession until somebody has the courage to say stop. They will be confronted by the words, “Have you come out to destroy us?”

Get a sense of what happened in the synagogue of Capernaum? It sounds pleasant when the preacher declares, “God rules over everything and everybody.” Yet when the light goes on, and it really is “everything and everybody,” we should expect some opposition. This forms the plot to the Gospel of Mark. Jesus is the Strong Man of God. He comes to make a constructive difference in the world – and the world strikes back. Jesus keeps going and is met with resistance. Mark wants us to know that, if you announce the love and power of God, somebody will push back and say no.

It reminds me of an unusual tale in the eighth chapter of this book. The people in a village bring a beggar who cannot see. Jesus lays hands on him to heal his sight, then asks, “Can you see anything?” The man says, “I see people. At least I think they are people. They look like trees walking.” So, Jesus must try again. Only then can the man see. (Mark 8:22-26).

Why does he have to give him a double-whammy of a healing? Because all the illnesses of this world are deeply entrenched: not just blindness of every variety, but poverty, hunger, homelessness, trauma, mental illness, abuse, violence, and our addiction to self-destruction. Jesus comes to tackle them all, for he came preaching, “This is God’s beloved world. You are God’s beloved people. God has come to rule over everything and everybody.” Even after the powers of evil conspired to put Jesus on the cross, he came back. And he is still busy.

Mark is the Gospel of God’s Mission. When Jesus is raised from the dead, the angel tells the women, “You will see him back in Galilee.” Where does Galilee begin? In the synagogue in Capernaum, as he commands an evil presence to be muzzled, and throws him out of that community. The congregation responds, “What is this? A new teaching?” Yes. They – and we – are being instructed that God wants this world to be well. God wants all the broken people mended. God wants all the broken systems dismantled and rebuilt. And our mission is to join Christ in his mission.

Now, there’s no assurance this will be easy. The work requires persistence, patience, and prayer. Like the year after some of our teenagers went off to fix homes in a poverty-stricken area. The first year, they went to a mountain hollow. They rebuilt porches, replaced rooftops, dug drainage ditches, cleaned up garbage, and made new friends. When they returned after a week, they said, “We are tired, but it’s a good tired.” We smiled and nodded.

So, when the prospect came of returning the next summer to the same region, they shouted, “Yes! Let’s do it.” They couldn’t wait to return and see what they had done the previous year. Alas, when the vans rolled back into town, some of those porches were broken again, the same rooftops needed repair, the ditches were clogged, and garbage was blowing down the road.

One of the kids said, “I don’t want to come back here again. In fact, I’m not sure I want to do this anymore.” We understand the sentiment, don’t we? But I think we can also understand the need, the ongoing need. And Jesus Christ comes into Galilee to address the need. He keeps working. And he calls us to follow him and join in the work. We cannot fix the world by waving our hands and offering a plastic prayer. Nor should we be enticed to believe that, since we have healed one person, now the work is done.

On the first day that Mark reports, Jesus goes into the holy space of worship. It is the holy day of Sabbath. He speaks the holy word, that God rules over all things – and he is resisted by someone who asks, “Have you come to destroy us?” What is the answer? Jesus comes to muzzle evil, to keep it from speaking and propagating. He comes to throw out whatever destructive force oppresses that poor soul and scares the congregation. He comes to heal, not destroy. To restore, not to ignore. To lift up, not trample down. To love through speech and action. To make a constructive difference, to the glory of God who comes to rule over all.

This will not happen easily or quickly, for him or for us. The Gospel of Mark knows this. This is the world that God has made, and this is the world that pushes God away. We are creatures made in God’s image, too often twisted in upon ourselves. No matter how much we resist our own well-being, Jesus comes to make us well. All of us, and all things. That is God’s will for the world

Do you know why this is? Because Jesus is the Holy One of God. He comes in the power of the kingdom, a power described so well by the Harlem poet Zora Neale Hurston. She put it this way, “Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place.” It is the love of Christ that calls all things into God’s healing, restoring light. It is the love of Christ for you. For all.

 

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

Saturday, January 13, 2024

By Hook or By Net

Mark 1:16-20
January 14, 2024
Epiphany 2
William G. Carter

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John, who were in their boat mending the nets. Immediately he called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.

 

This is recruiting season for a lot of colleges. Some of our high school graduates are signing up for the schools that they will attend next fall. If your family has ever been part of that process, you know there is some negotiating that goes on. How much do they want you? What kind of scholarship money are they going to offer? How many A.P. credits can you take with you? What else will sweeten the deal? 

I have a friend in Georgia. Her son just decided to sign on to play football at a small college in South Carolina. They are knocking down tuition by $25,000 a year. And they gave him a free t-shirt. I think he should have held out for a coffee mug too, but he seemed happy with the deal.

This is also a recruiting season for a lot of churches. Not merely for members – a congregation like ours is always looking for members - but for leaders. Once we get through Christmas, our Nominating Team begins its search for elders and deacons. I will not admit to any kinds of deals that they will offer, although we do give away free cups of coffee. No mugs, but coffee. And the search begins today. The team will find the best leaders they can find.

When we hear the familiar Gospel story of Jesus selecting the first members of his team, we tend to classify it as that kind of experience. That he’s going along the north shore of the Sea of Galilee on a recruiting tour. He is looking for his disciples. He starts with Simon and Andres, then James and John, and says, “Come and follow me.” Then with a delightful little word play, he says to the fishermen, “From now on, you will be fishing for people.” In his breathless fashion, Mark says they dropped everything. Immediately they followed him.

Most of us wonder why there isn’t more to the story. They dropped everything? Went immediately? Didn’t they ask where he was headed? What he was going to do? Was this a career change or just a temporary modification? Were they traveling far? Could they return to sleep in their own beds, at least some of the time? A couple of paragraphs later, we learn Simon had a mother-in-law, so he must have had a wife. Could he bring her along? What if they had kids? None of these questions are ever answered.

Along the way, I recall a couple of teachers who attempted to fill in the gaps. One of them said, “It was the sound of his voice. When Jesus made his offer, all four of them knew this was too good a situation to pass up. Of course, they left immediately.” Even James and John left old man Zebedee to finish counting the fish and mending the nets.”

Another teacher told us, “It was the twinkle in his eye. Jesus was full of light, life, and joy. They responded as any of us would. Wouldn’t you?” Well, we would like to think so. Except Mark tells us none of this. Jesus doesn’t say anything about the benefits of following him, heavenly or otherwise. He never sweetens the deal because he never makes a deal. And it is too early in the story for him to warn those four of potential dangers. “Follow me,” he says. And they go.

We can speculate about this all we want, but Mark has already told us what he wants us to know. It was in the account from last week. God ripped open the sky. The protective dome above our heads has been breached. The Spirit came down and landed on Jesus. He began to preach, “Time is up. It’s time for God rule over everything. Stop what you were doing and make the change.”

We can’t overestimate the significance of what this means. God has come. God is here. That closed system of “same old, same old” has been invaded by holiness. If illness is sweeping like a pestilence across the land, God doesn’t want that. Jesus will heal, not by waving his hands with some blanket magic spell, but by taking folks seriously one at a time. It is long work, hard work, important work. And it breaks the news that God is here.

Or those who talk in tight circles, surrounding themselves with people who agree with them, never challenged to look deeper or love wider, Jesus comes preaching a God who is not confined to our opinions. God didn’t stay up in heaven, where it was safe for him and boring for us. God came down.

“Think of it this way,” he said. “God’s dominion is like a little bitty seed. It grows mysteriously. Somehow he becomes the biggest of all the bushes.” (He doesn’t say oak trees, but scrub bushes.) And I’ll bet he was smiling at Simon, Andrew, James, and John when he said it. His words blew open all expectations, because his words didn’t originate from the north shore of the Sea of Galilee. They came down low from somewhere a good bit higher.

It's a new day, he said. The rightful Ruler is back in charge. The world will be reminded that it is cherished. Hard-working fishermen are God’s Beloved. The poor are God’s royalty. It’s time to say it. It’s time to show it. “Come, follow me.”

From what I can tell, this was the plot of God’s Gospel. Mark does not say much more. He shows us. In chapter one, Jesus is off like a rocket. Going here, going there, hardly taking a breath or stopping for a sandwich. There is work to do. There are words to speak. And if you want to see who he is, if you want to learn what God cares about, get in step, and follow wherever he goes.

It is striking how direct all of this is. Over the years, the church has tried to reduce the Gospel to a sales plan. Three easy steps to salvation, four spiritual laws, a sinner’s prayer to mimic, and then the Circus Tent where the traveling evangelist makes the pitch. There’s none of this in the Gospel of Mark; Jesus is too busy. He’s too busy loving and healing and feeding and confronting and forgiving, to say nothing of shouting at terrible wind storms to knock it off.

Instead of reducing the kingdom of God to a marketing plan with carrot-on-the-stick benefits, the world would be better off if we would go with Jesus where he goes, join him in doing what he does, and learn to care about the people and situations that he cares about. Because that is his demand – Follow me! It is not an invitation. It’s a requirement.

I used to think it was an invitation. Soft music, hum all eighty-five verses of “Just As I Am,” the buses will wait, counselors are standing by, please welcome Jesus into your heart. Then I read the text again: Follow me! He is yelling, not pleading. He’s insisting, not suggesting. This is the Gospel of Mark. Jesus never whispers in the Gospel of Mark. He lays out the moment and requires a decision on where he has taken you and what he has shown you.

And it is all rooted in that vision from the day of his baptism: the heavens are torn; God comes upon Jesus and all that is beloved of heaven. Time to recognize that God rules over all. Not sometime later, but today. Not back in the golden days, but mysteriously right here, right now. There is no need to put it off until another day. Right now.

The signs are all around us. There is a man I know, an hour from here. This may be his last day on the planet. A few months ago, when they told him it was stage four cancer, he was quiet for a little while. Then he said, “Let’s take it on.” They did, but the illness progressed. So, he was quiet again, then decided to sell his truck and give the money to his grandchildren toward their college debts.

His family gathered again and again, and every time they came, he told them he loved them. They asked, “Daddy, is there anything we can do for you?” He said, “Take me to church on Christmas Eve. I want to praise our savior before I meet him.” And they did. Why wait? Even in his last days, he is following Jesus. Testifying to something that the powers of death cannot take away.

Or there’s that young student. She’s really something. Raised in privilege, good grades, good looks, never challenged to stretch far because everything came easily. Then she went with friends to join a high school club, only to discover that her neighborhood had strangers, and the next town over was taking in refugees from a far-off land. At the time, she heard some horrific comments on television about immigrants. It did not jibe with her experience. Something didn’t seem right.

She dug in, met more of the strangers, befriended them, stood up for them, ate with them. While in high school, she asked her church if she could invite over a hundred or so new friends from Africa for a Thanksgiving feast. And why not? Her career ambition: to become an immigration attorney to advocate for the newcomers who have no other home. All because she heard some hate speech and decided, “This isn’t right.” And God got through to her.

If we start following Jesus, there is no assurance it will be easy. Or that everything will unfold according to our plans. Or even that the way will be clear. Many times, it isn’t. Yet the one promise Jesus makes is that we will be changed. “Follow me,” he says, “and I will make you fish for people.” Note: he is not asking our permission. He’s not saying, “If you follow, I’ll put fish in your net, and you can sell them and make a lot of money.” Rather, he declares we will be transformed, specifically for the sake of other people.

That is the centrifugal power of the Gospel. Jesus is in the Center. As we orbit around him, we are compelled outward toward others. The Christian communities that flourish are those that keep Jesus in the center and extend themselves to others outside. Those that dwindle often are concerned only with themselves – bake sales to keep the lights on, chains across the parking lot to keep the teenagers out, and somebody barking, “Hey, you’re sitting in my pew.” No, no, no – it is about others. It’s always about others. This is one of the fundamental changes that comes by following Jesus. He was always focused on others, which is why God sent him to us.

“Follow me,” he says, “and I will make you fish for other people.” With this declaration, the mission is underway. As far as anybody can tell, it is not over. It’s never over. This sermon is hereby over, yet the mission of God goes on.

 

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

Saturday, January 6, 2024

Thrown into the Wilderness

Mark 1:9-15
January 7, 2023
Baptism of the Lord
William G. Carter

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”


I hope you didn’t blink during the reading of the text. A lot happens in seven short verses. Jesus walks eighty miles to the Jordan River, John baptizes Jesus, God reveals the identity of Jesus, the Spirit descends upon him, Satan tempts him, angels wait on him, John is arrested, and Jesus begins to preach.

In breathless fashion, Mark introduces the Main Character of his story. In seven verses, we make a round trip from Galilee to the Jordan River, and back to the province of Galilee, and we go by way of forty days in the wilderness. When Jesus arrives home, he begins to preach, “God’s dominion is at hand.”

That's the Good News of the Gospel of Mark, announced on page 1. The signs of God's presence are inescapable. The sky is ripped open, presumably by somebody on the other side. The Spirit swoops down. The Voice that spoke the world into being begins to speak to Jesus: "You are my Son, the Beloved." No doubt about it: God has broken in.

Don Juel was a New Testament scholar. He wrote a lot of books on the Gospel of Mark, so someone thought he might be qualified to lead a Bible study with Junior High kids. He told them to open their Bibles to the first chapter of Mark, and they read this story. Dr. Juel began to tell those sleepy-eyed students how this passage can help us understand prayer. "The heavens have been parted," he said, "and so whenever we say something to God, God will hear us."

Suddenly a young student who had said a word throughout the class, began to challenge him. “That's not what the passage means,” he said. “It isn't that we have access to God, it's that God has access to us. The protection is gone. God is here among us, on the loose.”

Dr. Juel said, "The moment the words were out of his mouth, I knew he was right - - and something invaded my imagination that has reshaped my experience of Mark’s Gospel, the Christian message, God, and the world. A curtain has been torn, never to be repaired. I find myself dangerously vulnerable to the presence of God[1]

God is at hand. Advent is over, so I don't have to say, "God is on the way." And the Christmas decorations are coming down, so I cannot point to the Christ candle and merely say, "Jesus has been born." The Gospel of Mark wants us to see something else. The sky had been ripped open. It has not been stitched back together. The dome between heaven and earth has been breached.

We often hear this Bible story in the season of Lent, especially if we hear the variations that come in the books of Matthew or Luke. In those books, Jesus encounters three representative temptations. Use your power for your own self-interest, turn stones into bread. Win over the crowds by having the angels catch you when you swan dive from the tower of the temple. Kneel before the Accuser so you can gain the power and glory without going through the suffering on the cross. Those are sinister temptations. They come at the point of his strength. You see, temptation does not merely attack us at a point of weakness. If you or I had the power to turn stones to bread, we’d be tempted to use that power for ourselves.

But Mark has something else to tell us. There’s something else he wants us to see. Mark sees the power of God slicing through the clouds and falling like a dove on Jesus. Like a dove, not a hawk. It is real power, legitimate power, heavenly power – and it comes down here to make a difference. And if that Holy Spirit Dove power has come to make a difference, it is going to run up against some opposition. That’s what Mark wants us to see.

This will be one of the great themes of Mark’s book. The power of God has come upon Jesus – and there’s another player on the field. Call it “Satan,” call it “evil,” call it “hardened privilege,” call it “the status quo,” call it “the way things are always done around here,” call it whatever you want – Jesus comes to make a transformative difference for the Kingdom of God, so he’s going to get some pushback. As we move through Mark’s book this winter, this summer, and through the fall, we’re going to see that again and again.

To use Mark’s language, “the Strong Man of God has come to plunder the house of evil,”[2] and the house of evil isn’t going to like it. Not one bit. And all of this is announced today, as the sky is ripped open from the other side, the Voice says, “You’re my Beloved,” and the Holy Spirit Power descended like a dove – and hurls Jesus into the wilderness.

That’s the verb Mark uses: the Spirit hurls him, throws him, propels him. It is an intentional word, an aggressive word. In fact, that is the same verb for those occasions later in the Gospel story when Jesus “casts out” the demonic powers that harm human life. There is a good bit of force in that verb. The Spirit casts him into the wilderness and he is tested.

I’ve often wondered about this. Is this like the internship where the boss throws the young hotshot into a tangled situation and says, “Let’s see what you are made of.” Could be, don’t know. God says, “You’re my Son. You please me.” And what now? Will we throw him into the deep end and see if he can swim? Mark says there were wild beasts there.

When my older daughter was little, I took her to a wildlife preserve in Florida where she met her first alligator. It was feeding time. She looked at the big teeth. That snapper was fierce. We were impressed. In the noon sun at Sanibel Island, we stood a hundred feet away and took our safe photos. We could do that behind a fence, at high noon, on dry ground. I wouldn’t be interested in meeting that gator in a warm pool at midnight.

Why would the Spirit, God’s Own Spirit, throw Jesus into a treacherous situation? The land around the lower part of the Jordan River is barren and dry. There’s no food. Precious little drinking water. It’s near the lowest altitude on the planet. People would wander out there and get lost. Or worse.

In September 1969, the Most Rev. James Pike, former Episcopal bishop of California rented a car from Bethlehem of Judea and drove south of Jericho toward that wilderness. The road was washed out, so he and his wife had to turn around. The tires got stuck in a rut. They didn’t know what to do. They thought they knew way back to Jericho, so they started to climb the canyon walls.

Soon Bishop Pike fell exhausted. His wife Diana found some shade for him, declaring, “I’m getting us some help.” Fourteen hours later, she stumbled out of the desert, got some help, and led them back to her vehicle. But alas, her husband had wandered off. After three days of 100-degree heat, the search was called off. Somebody found his body two days after that.[3] There was evidence he had grown delirious and confused. Cast into the wilderness, and the wilderness won.

What does Mark want us to see when he says, “The Spirit of God cast Jesus into the wilderness”? Forty days is a long time to ramble around a place like that, especially if there are wild beasts out there, to say nothing of Satan. Certainly, Mark wants us to take stock of the angels. He says there were angels out there, taking care of him. It’s the only time angels appear in his book.[4]

We are to see that Jesus had heavenly help, especially under such dire circumstances. Since heaven has been ripped open, the angels could come freely at the direction of God. They could help Jesus. Mark wants to know that, too. There is a cosmic battle going on, good against evil. Jesus has been thrown into it and has been provided the support he needed. If you’re going up against Satan and the wild beasts, and the Holy Spirit has come upon you like a gentle dove, you may need to backup.

But here’s what I believe Mark also wants us to see: the baptism is only the beginning. When somebody is baptized, they are not finished. They are only beginning a journey. The message at the baptism of Jesus is an analogy of God’s message at our baptisms, namely, we are God’s Beloved children. God’s good pleasure, his grace, is sufficient to claim us as his own. But we still have a way to go. A long way.

The baptized life is a life of continuing formation. Let’s not forget that. The Holy Spirit calls us to keep working out the implications of God’s hand on our lives. For Jesus, it was quite dramatic. Forty days in the desert. Seeking clarity to discern a temptation and avoid it. Asking for strength when thrown into a wilderness situation. Imagine – and it should not be hard – being stuck in a snowstorm for days and nights, with no power. After a few days, you would discover what you’re made of. And you also might discover where your help is coming from.

So, welcome to a year with the Gospel of Mark. Jesus goes immediately here, and immediately there, all the time casting out demons and preaching that everything belongs to God. Those who encountered him found him to be both comforting and disruptive, which is the way the Gospel works. God ripped open the sky and has come in Jesus of Nazareth. The tired old status quo has broken. It’s time for everything to change.

And God’s good story goes on.


(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.

[1] Donald H. Juel, “Your Word is Truth: Some Reflections on a Hard Saying, Princeton Seminary Bulletin XVII/1 (February 1996) 20-22.

[2] From the enigmatic parable of Mark 3:27.

[3] The sad story is told online at https://www.itsgila.com/headlinersbishoppike.htm

[4] Angels are mentioned a few times in Mark’s Gospel. This is the only time they appear.