More Than Us

Mark 9:38-41
September 29, 2024
William G. Carter

John said to him, ‘Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.’ But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterwards to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.

It was an interview, almost 75 years ago, back when television was young. They put a poet on CBS News and asked him to sit for an interview. The poet was no ordinary wordsmith. It was Carl Sandburg, three-time winner of the Pulitzer Prize. He was a man who loved words, who juggled words, and who adjudicated words. 

Edward R. Murrow was the interviewer, an ever-present Camel cigarette in his hand. After a bit of small talk about Sandburg’s work, Murrow gave him this question: what is the ugliest word in the English language? Sandburg looked him over, then started working over the question. “The ugliest word, what’s the ugliest word?” He rolled the question over his tongue. “Ugliest? Ugliest word? Hmm…the ugliest word.”

Then, rather abruptly, he gave his answer. “The ugliest word is exclusive.”

Edward R. Murrow blew a bit of cigarette smoke, then asked the question, “Why? What makes that the ugliest words?” The reply: “That word ‘exclusive’ shuts out a large portion of humanity from your mind and heart.”

It is a word that has often been used to make people feel special. We live in an exclusive community. We vacation in an exclusive resort. We are inducted in an exclusive society. We are offered an exclusive deal. We worship in an exclusive church. It’s not so ugly if you are one of the insiders, if you count yourself among the brightest and the best, the richest and the most privileged. You might be tempted to boast, “I am a member of an exclusive club.”

Yet, that, precisely that, is why the poet named it the ugliest word. Because it separates you from the rank and file. It presumes to lift you above everybody else.”

And the disciples announced to Jesus, “We saw an exorcist out there, healing in your name. We told him to stop because he was not following us.”

Last week, we overheard the twelve of them bickering over which one of them was the greatest. Which one was superior? Which one of them was most faithful, most loving, most generous, and most handsome – to say of most humble? Jesus took them off at the knees, declaring the greatest would be the one who serves everybody else. He punctured their view of competition. You cannot be a follower of Jesus if you are obsessed with superiority.

Today, it is their notion of exclusivity that Jesus takes on. John the disciple, one of the inner circle from Galilee, boasts with pride about what he has done. “Teacher,” he says, “we saw an exorcist who didn’t have a union card. He was casting out demons in your name, but he wasn’t following us. We told him to stop!” In other words, John thinks he himself belongs to the only show in town.

Now, we know Jesus is going to take him on. Redirect him. But Jesus is simply gracious. He chastises the opinion by speaking to the best capacity within his own misguided followers. The Lord says, “Don’t stop him. Anybody who does a deed of power in my name will be unable to speak evil of me.”

Then he cuts to the chase: “Who’s not against us is for us.” That unnamed exorcist wandering around out there by himself is really part of a bigger work. Imagine that: that there might be people out there who are doing the same work and pursuing the same purposes. In fact, we are already on the same team. Call it “Team Jesus.”

I like that word “team.” I am old enough to remember when churches worked together on matters of common concern. The two high rise apartments in our town began when religious leaders agreed that our senior citizens on limited incomes needed affordable housing in this community. The pastors worked together; the churches worked together. Can you imagine everybody working together?

These days, so many churches are struggling even to keep their doors open, so they find themselves obsessed with survival. Some are so anxious they steal sheep from other flocks and call it “evangelism.” Or they profess to be the only true believers, declaring in word and deed, “We are the only show in town.”

There is an alternative. Jesus hints at it. You know what it is. It’s called teamwork. What do we know about teamwork?

Somebody asked me the other day about teamwork. What was my experience of sports, and being on a team? Well, I played high school football for three seasons. Actually, I sat on the bench for two and a half seasons, while the superstars were out on the field. The coach put me in for a game in the third season. He was desperate. First play of the game, I was triple-teamed, and they carried me off the field with a ruptured knee. So much for my sports career.

But teamwork, what is it look like? At our best, we see it all the time. One of the best things our congregation does is to offer meals for those who have lost a loved one. We did it last Saturday. We did it yesterday. Whether we make the meal or serve the meal, we are engaged together. The work is collaborative. Collaboration always takes time, energy, and communication. There is something everybody can do. And in the end, everybody eats.

All this shared work is in service of the greater purpose. It’s in service to what we are here to do. If you are in choir, our purpose is to make music together. If we play a sport, we play the sport with others as well as you can. If we follow Jesus, we do the very things that he does, both for him, with him, and with all the others who are doing his work.

“Teacher, we saw somebody casting out demons in your name, and we told him to stop because he wasn’t following us.” Sounds kind of hollow, especially in the Gospel of Mark. In this Gospel, the predominant image for the work of Jesus is exorcism. The very first thing Jesus does after his baptism and a retreat in the wilderness is to cast out a demon.

It happened in a synagogue, in a holy space, on holy time. A man started yelling at Jesus. He hollers, “Jesus, I know who you are. Have you come out to destroy us?” The Lord stared down the evil spirit and said, “Get out of him!” In that confrontation, the tormented man is made well. That is the ministry of Jesus. It is the active force of God’s Spirit in him, repairing what is broken, healing what is ill.

One page after another, Mark wants us to know that this is why God sends his strong Son into our midst: to do an exorcism on the world, to make all things well. He confronts the evil that destroys, and he ushers in the healing power of God. The Jews have a phrase for that: “tikkun olam.” It means “to take the world in for repairs.” It is to restore all that is broken and to build shalom . . . peace, balance, integration, wholeness.

This is the work of the Christ. If you are not against it – and who would be against it? You would have to be out of your right mind to be against it, and that suggests Jesus will be coming to you, to make you well. – If you are not against it, you are for it.

And if we’re not entirely for it yet, I do believe the work of Christ is powerful enough and enticing enough to invite all of us into the deep gladness of his well-being. A world that was ill enough to crucify Jesus must contend with him returning in his resurrection, working persistently to heal and restore everything that belongs to God. If you are not against it, you will be for it.

“Do not stop him,” says Jesus.” The psychologist who unlocks the learning disorder, the dentist who fixes smiles, the social worker who connects, the resource center that provides a safe place for a frightened woman to sleep, the counselor who listens to the broken heart, the volunteer ladling out tuna casserole, the deacon who prays, the exercise instructor who calms the soul – all of them are part of the mission, God’s mission. And we are in it together. We are all part of God’s salvage operation.

Don’t stand in the way of any other person or group that welcomes people into the embrace of God. Do not deny the outcasts who can’t believe that anybody might love them. Don’t turn away the person whom you might lift higher. Put a muzzle on the ugly exclusivity and replace it with encouragement. And for God’s sake – for God’s sake – never insist you are the only one who does it right. Love requires us to put others first, to tend to their wounds before our own. This is how we drive out evil and welcome the Christ who comes to heal all.

Maybe that’s why Jesus says what he does: “Truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.” Imagine that – you are not only one of the healers, but you are also the recipient. Is there anybody in the dominion of God better than all the others? No, not one. All of us drink from the water of Christ’s mercy. All of us. That’s why we need to work together.

One of my teachers told the story of growing up in Appalachia. “We didn’t think we were poor,” he said, “because there was always somebody worse off than us.” It made him feel better, a little better. One day, his church group announced they would make up fruit baskets and deliver them to the poor families in town. Fred felt good about that. It would lift his spirits to do something kind for somebody else.

The fruit baskets, mostly apples, were put together. The group split up in a few different cars and headed out to the poor sections of town. Fred held his basket on his knee. He knew what he would do. He would sneak up to the front door, put down the basket, knock hard, and then run away. It was guerilla charity, he said. Unload the basket and split.

So, he approached a run-down clapboard house. Lawn was overgrown. One of the bedroom windows was broken. A single lightbulb on inside the home. He thought to himself, “Oh, these poor folks are really going to enjoy this bruit basket. I’ll bet nobody has done something nice for them in a long time. I’ll drop the basket on the porch, knock on the door, and run away. Good plan.

He leaned down to place the basket when the front door opened abruptly. He stood up, shocked. This was not the original plan. A grizzled sharecropper took the basket in his wrinkled knuckles. He brightened in a broken smile, then said, “How kind of you! Thank you ever so much.” Then he paused, held out the basket, and said, “Would you like one of these apples? They look delicious.”

The kid froze. This was definitely not in the plan. He was supposed to give away the apples, not take one. The old man stood there, waiting. So, Fred took one of the apples. Took a big bite. Indeed, it was delicious.

“Ever since that moment,” he said, years later, “I realized we all eat from the same basket. All of us, from the same basket.” Just as God intends for it to be.

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