Tag Archives: Mark

A Teacher’s Tongue, a Disciple’s Ear

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Introduction

This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, Sept. 12-13, 2009, the weekend of the Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

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Readings

Isaiah 50:4-9
Psalm 116:1-9
James 3:1-12
Mark 8:27-38

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Prayer

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

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Message

Frank Oz, the master muppeteer,
lent his hands and voice to bring to life
Yoda, the Jedi Master and Teacher
in George Lucas’s Star Wars movies.

One of Yoda’s most famous sayings
comes from The Phantom Menace,
where he states:

“Always two there are; a master and an apprentice.”

We think of masters and apprentices
perfecting their art and craft
as stonemasons and woodcarvers
or, perhaps, shipbuilders and silversmiths.

But for the most part,
we don’t talk much in today’s world
about masters and apprentices.

But we do talk about teachers and students.
And there is something
to the bond between them that reminds us
of the connections binding apprentices to their master.

Teachers are educated, skilled, and seasoned,
like fountains that flow with the information and techniques
of a particular field of knowledge.
Students have a thirst for drinking from that fountain,
for soaking in that expertise and experience.
And so the pairing of teachers and students is a natural one,
as natural as slaking one’s thirst with cool water.

We, as people of faith,
serve one another in similar roles.
But for us, it’s probably better
to speak of teachers and disciples.

This helps us to remember
that Jesus was a teacher himself
and his followers were disciples.

He taught them through parables and stories,
by giving them sayings, passing on wisdom,
by letting them see him work his wonders,
healing the sick, forgiving the broken,
comforting the bereaved, and enlightening those in darkness.

But in the end,
all of his teachings and miracles
pointed to his mission,
the task his Father had given him.

Mark’s gospel tells us how Jesus, teacher and rabbi,
instructed his followers, his disciples and students, saying:

“Then Jesus began to teach them
that the Son of Man 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.” (Mark 8:31, NRSV)

This is a hard lesson,
a difficult one for us to hear.
But imagine the shock and the fear
it must have brought to Jesus’ companions, his disciples.

It’s easy to envision how we would have acted just like Peter,
pulling Jesus off to the side,
and telling him why this just couldn’t be.

This was Peter, who had only minutes before,
in his own way, passed the test of discipleship.
He’d just responded to Jesus’ question,
“But who do you say that I am?”
by answering, “You are the Messiah.” (Mark 8:29, NRSV)
That means the Chosen One, the Anointed One, the Christ.

And then he tried to convince Jesus
to redefine the terms,
to rewrite the rules,
to reimagine what a Messiah might be,
to change how he should carry out God’s will.

Peter’s Messiah need not suffer, be rejected, be killed, and then raised.

But Jesus, the master,
is himself the servant who carries out perfectly the will of his Father.
And so Peter’s attempt to replace God’s will with human desire
is, for Jesus, a temptation that he rejects.

That’s why he says to Peter,

“Get behind me, Satan!
For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
(Mark 8:33, NRSV)

This is the hardest lesson of all.
Peter and you and I learn from Jesus
that living as his disciple
is both a blessing and a discipline.

We are blessed because Jesus invites us
to accompany him on his journey.
He welcomes us into the company of his disciples.
He empowers us to walk with him,
to learn from his example how to live,
to practice lives devoted to his Father’s will.

This is how we live together as disciples of Jesus, our teacher.
In a way, we are all apprentices,
practicing the art of holy living
under the guidance of our one Master.

We learn by listening.
We can listen because our baptism
blesses each of us with a disciple’s ear
so that we may hear and obey
what comes to us from the Teacher’s tongue.

An it’s through the writings of the Scriptures
that our Teacher’s words speak to us.

The first lesson for today is a passage
from Isaiah that many count
as one of that prophet’s Servant Songs.
It is traditional to listen to these words
and to hear the voice of Jesus, God’s Messiah,
speaking along with Isaiah.

Let’s listen to the passage again:

“The Lord GOD has given me
the tongue of a teacher,
that I may know how to sustain
the weary with a word.
Morning by morning he wakens—
wakens my ear
to listen as those who are taught.
The Lord GOD has opened my ear,
and I was not rebellious,
I did not turn backward.
I gave my back to those who struck me,
and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;
I did not hide my face from insult and spitting.” (Isaiah 50:4-6, NRSV)

We can hear Jesus’ voice,
the echoes of how he undergoes great suffering and rejection
on the way to his death and resurrection. (Mark 8:31, NRSV)
This witness, his message
comes from the teacher’s tongue to the disciple’s ear.

By virtue of our faith,
we have the ear to hear this Word from God,
to receive this lesson in discipleship.

And like faithful disciples,
like good apprentices,
we can, through that same faith,
listen to our teacher,
and follow our master in obedience,
even when it means
we must each shoulder a cross
and walk the path that leads to death.

But this message, this call to discipleship,
this invitation to be apprentices
does not end with us.
We have no greater challenge,
no more profound honor,
no more significant task
than to pass on this message and call to others.

Those in our congregation
who will stand before us tomorrow/today
to commit publicly to serve
in our ministry of education
are asking for us all to pray
that God will bless each of them
with a faithful and attentive disciple’s ear,
attuned to the teacher’s tongue.

And by the grace of the Holy Spirit,
God our Father will bless them in the name of Jesus.
With this gift, they will then pass on what we receive:
this message of Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection
and the invitation to become his disciples,
to face our own suffering and death for his sake.
We can know and trust with confidence
that as we undergo those trials,
we await a life renewed, restored, and with death behind it,
when our days as disciples reach their end. Amen.

Upsetting Mercy

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Introduction

This is the sermon I preached at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Saturday and Sunday, Sept. 5-6, 2009, the weekend of the Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost.

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Readings

Isaiah 35:4-7a
Psalm 146 (2)
James 2:1-10 [11-13] 14-17
Mark 7:24-37

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Prayer

“Let the words of my mouth
and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

+ + +

Message

The details may change over the years.
But for many of us,
the routine and the ritual remain a part
of our daily lives.

Maybe you venture outside
in the quiet gray before sunrise,
your dog darting about and sniffing
while you shuffle to the end of the driveway.
You stoop down to retrieve
the morning’s newspaper—
thinner than it once was
thanks to a diet lean in advertising—
but still filled with news.

Some good, but mostly bad.
Same as yesterday…and the day before…and the day before that.

Or maybe you background the TV
while you get cleaned up for work,
letting the talking heads
jabber their way through the headlines,
seasoning the morning’s serving with a few jokes
as the camera cuts from one head to another.

Mixed in with the incessant celebrity patter is the news.
Some good, but mostly bad.

Or perhaps radio is your drive-time companion.
Some snippets are actually useful.
Weather, traffic, school menus, and cancellations.
And there’s news too.
Some good, but mostly bad.

And then there’s the Web,
filling our monitors and smart phones
with news you can use,
customized to your personal preferences,
packaged and tweaked,
ranked and commented.
And in the end,
some is good, but mostly it’s bad.

And yet we browse, we listen, we watch, we read,
perhaps in hope that someday the news will be good.
But mostly, it is as it almost always is—bad.

Manufacturers lay off workers,
scaring families by the score and more.
Debts and deficits climb,
trailing triplets of zeros behind them.
Global hotspots burn brightly,
threatening both civilians and soldiers.

Trusted institutions go all wobbly,
cutting age-old ties with their roots.
Individuals fear for their health,
waiting for diagnoses of their bodies’ betrayals.
Families bear secret and silent pain,
aching from hidden wounds.

This is the news, the daily news
of our lives in this world.
In the end, despite our efforts
to read it with detachment,
to speak it with smiles on our faces,
the news all and always boils down to one word: death.

Sometimes the news is straightforward.
People we know and love and have treasured
as companions in our journeys together have died.
And other times, the little deaths wear disguises,
masquerading as changes and adjustments.
Our relationships bend and finally break in estrangement.
Our health sags and finally succumbs to illness.
Our dreams tatter and finally tear into little pieces.

It’s everywhere we turn.
It’s inescapable, inexorable, and inevitable.

But, in the end, the bad news is not the final report.
It is not the last word on our lives.
It is never the ultimate verdict spoken of us.

In the midst of the pain and the loss,
the grief and the turmoil,
the breaks and the death,
there is the calm and firm voice of God.

And he speaks a word to us
that finds its echo
in the words Winston Churchill
famously spoke to England
in the darkest moments of World War II:

“Never, never, never give up.”

The Word of God is a word—a clear word—
acknowledging that we are lost and we do sin and we shall die.
This is the law.

But God’s Word is also a word of hope overcoming despair,
a proclamation of grace forgiving our sin,
a message of life vanquishing our deaths.

Hear God speak through Isaiah, his prophet:

“Be strong, do not fear!” (Isaiah 35:4a, NRSV)

Listen to God sing with David, his psalmist:

“Happy are those whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the LORD their God….” (Psalm 146:5, NRSV)

Find comfort in the question that James, God’s servant, asks:

“Has not God chosen the poor in the world
to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom
he has promised to those who love him?” (James 2:5b, NRSV)

Feel the fingers of the Father’s Son in your ears and on your tongue,
his breath sighing in your face, his voice saying,

“‘Ephphatha,’ that is, ‘Be opened.’” (Mark 7:34, NRSV)

These are God’s words of life spoken in the face of death.
They are his Gospel, his good news that silences all the bad news.
These are his words of blessing and mercy.

When our families ache from hidden wounds,
God speaks a quiet word of reconciliation.
When we worry about our health,
he touches us with his Spirit of healing.
When our institutions leave us wondering what to trust,
he tells us that his Son is the way and the truth and the life.

When violence turns the land into a battlefield,
the Prince of Peace reminds us he is also King of Kings.
When our economy digs holes so deep we cannot see out of them,
God reminds us the earth is his and everything in it.
When we lose our jobs,
God, who knows when a sparrow falls,
embraces us with strong arms and gentle hands.

This is the news for today.
And it is good, all good.

But strangely,
there are moments when we don’t want to hear this news.
There are times when we have grown
so accustomed to the pain and brokenness,
so acclimated to our adjustments to the bad news,
that we get some odd satisfaction
from wallowing about in our sad lot in life.

We say to ourselves,
this may be my own personal misfortune,
but it’s mine, and I have made it for myself.
We become, in our own way,
like the sad and twisted Gollum in Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.
We each hold onto personal sin and pain
and treasure it, echoing Gollum’s plaintive lament: “My Precious.”

And when God pours his grace upon us like baptismal waters,
when he rests his hands of blessing on our heads,
when he marks our brows with a cross of oil,
then we may find ourselves trying
to jerk away from his glistening finger,
to escape the press of his palms upon us,
and to dodge the splash of his holy water.

Why?
Why do we act this way?
Not because his gifts are not good.
But because for us to receive his gifts
is to face the truth
that he is God and no other.
Not you, not me, not anyone we know.
And certainly not any idol
we fashion for ourselves
from the bits and pieces of our lives,
the little scraps of habit we hoard,
the flotsam of our possessions,
the nagging pains that twist our spiritual posture.

But God is persistent.
He outlasts our struggling.
He withstands our rebellion.
And as he does, he bestows upon us his upsetting mercy.
He reminds us who is God.
As the Psalmist tells us:

“Do not put your trust in princes,
in mortals, in whom there is no help.
When their breath departs, they return to the earth;
on that very day their plans perish….
The LORD will reign forever,
your God, O Zion, for all generations.
Praise the LORD!” (Psalm 146:4, 10, NRSV) Amen.

Like a Shepherd

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Occasion

This is a homily for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, July 19, 2009, based upon the day’s readings from Jeremiah, Psalms, and Mark.

Prayer

Let us pray…
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

Homily

Have you ever had the experience
of looking at the road ahead from behind the wheel
of your car and wondering,
“How did I get here?”

It’s a little frightening
to realize that you’ve lost track
of your own life,
that you have been conscious and alert,
but not aware of your own actions.

Somehow,
your mind has paid attention
to the road and has driven you
to your destination,
without you having any thoughts
about the matter.

My guess is that this happens to us
when we drive a familiar route,
where all of the turns and the stops
are routine and predictable.

Sometimes we may say we feel
the same thing happening to us
while worshiping in Church.
We get started saying,
“Our Father, who art in heaven…,”
and before we know what has happened,
we find ourselves saying,
“…forever and ever. Amen.”

I have a hunch
that today’s Psalm
may come close to being
one of those autopilot texts.

Just get us started saying,
“The LORD is my shepherd…,”
and before we know it,
we are wrapping it up:
“…and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”

But just like driving along a fresh route to work
can help us regain our ability
to pay attention to the road,
we can reclaim our ability
to pay attention to familiar texts
when we take a fresh approach.

Usually,
when we hear the word “shepherd”
in readings from the Bible,
we think, naturally and properly,
of Jesus Christ.

He is the Good Shepherd
who searches for the lost sheep,
who brings us, his flock,
to green pastures and still waters,
who protects us from danger,
and who, in the end,
lays down his life for his sheep.
This is our familiar shepherd.

But today, let’s take a different
route through our readings.

As our starting point,
let’s begin with the word “pastor.”
It’s the term we use
to address the one
who serves a congregation
as its spiritual leader.

But hiding beneath our use
of pastor as an English word
is its history in Latin
as the term for shepherd.
And then, surprisingly,
when we look at the Latin roots
of the word congregation,
we find hiding the Latin word gregis,
which means flock.

So, on our fresh route
through the readings,
let’s reflect on what they may say to us
about our community as a flock
and about our search for a new shepherd.

+ + +

Jeremiah launches into a pronouncement from the LORD,

“Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture! … It is you who have scattered my flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them.” (Jeremiah 23:1,2b, NRSV)

God desires for us, his flock,
to be gathered, to be herded,
by a shepherd.
We know that, in the end,
he sends his Son to be the Great Shepherd.
But he also sends others
to shepherd in his name,
with his blessing,
and in obedience to his commands.

So, as we begin to pray and to search
for a pastor for this congregation,
a shepherd for this flock,
we can remember that a shepherd
ought not to destroy and scatter the flock,
but should attend to them.

And in fact, through Jeremiah’s prophecy,
the LORD promises his people,

“I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer, or be dismayed, nor shall any be missing….” (Jeremiah 23:4, NRSV)

+ + +

Then in the Psalm, David, the shepherd turned poet and king,
sings those familiar words, beginning,

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not be in want.” (Psalm 23:1, LBW)

This shepherd and LORD
gives his flock rest in green pastures,
leads the sheep to still waters,
protects them with his rod and staff,
feeds them at his table,
anoints them with oil,
and promises eternal life in his house.

No one of us in God’s Church
could possibly, on his or her own,
even begin to fulfill any of those promises
by our own efforts, under our own power.

But, when we act in God’s name,
we can, with his grace,
speak and act in ways
that are faithful to the ministry
of the LORD who is our shepherd.

So we can look for a pastor for this congregation
who encourages us to gather, to congregate, in this place
and to preserve it as a refuge
from the dangers and stresses of life.

This shepherd can lead us to the still waters of baptism,
calm our fears with the discipline of the rod and staff of God’s word,
invite us to the LORD’s table of the Eucharist,
and anoint our heads with oil for healing when we are sick.

+ + +

Then, in Mark’s Gospel,
we hear how Jesus offers his apostles
the freedom of a time and place for rest
from their labors as his servants:

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” (Mark 6:31, NRSV)

This verse ties back to the Gospel readings
we’ve heard the last two weeks,
where Jesus sends the Twelve out
with the basics of staves and tunics and sandals,
and empowers them to call the people to repent,
to cast out demons,
and to anoint the sick.

This excites the crowds,
who wonder what to make of the sensation,
and are curious about who is energizing this ministry.
So they ask if it might be John the Baptist or Elijah or another prophet.

And then, as the disciples return,
Jesus cares for their need to be restored,
and invites them to slip away and rest.

As the shepherd of the Twelve,
he recognizes that times for serving
need to be followed by times for rest and restoration.
He sees that time spent scattered in service
needs to be balanced with time spent gathered around him.

This helps us to see
that a shepherd of our flock,
a pastor of this congregation,
ministers in Christ’s name
when he or she helps us,
as we say, to go in peace and serve the Lord,
through our witness to others.

And likewise, a shepherd of this flock,
the pastor for whom we search,
will call us together,
gather us around Jesus Christ,
our Lord and shepherd,
and lead us to find
rest and reflection and restoration
in the presence of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Finally, we hear about how Jesus and the apostles
come ashore from their boat
and find the path to their place of refuge
overrun by a crowd
drawn by curiosity and amazement and hunger.
Mark tell us,

“As [Jesus] went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.” (Mark 6:34, NRSV)

This helps us to know that Jesus has compassion
for all who are searching and wondering and striving,
but who don’t know where to turn,
whom to follow,
what messages to believe.

They are “like sheep without a shepherd,”
like a great crowd milling about,
unclear about the direction their lives should take.

So, as their shepherd,
Jesus feels compassion
and responds by teaching them.

A person who serves in Jesus’ name
as shepherd or pastor
will minister as he does,
showing compassion for people,
especially when we are confused and lost.

A good shepherd and pastor
will lead the congregation, the flock,
out of the wilderness of confusion
with sound and faithful teaching
about the life of God
and our place in it.

+ + +

So, we have the beginnings of a long list.
This congregation is searching for a pastor
who does not scatter and destroy the people,
but attends to them.
This flock is seeking a shepherd
who leads us into safe places,
who shares God’s gifts
of water and word and forgiveness and meal.
This community is seeking a spiritual leader
who sends us out as witnesses in Jesus’ name,
who calls us back for times of rest,
who helps us balance service and restoration.

This is a list we can build on in the weeks and months ahead.
It’s a list that can seem overwhelming,
whether we dwell upon finding someone
who can meet its challenges
or we contemplate how we work together
to congregate, to flock together, as God’s sheep.

But, in the end, we don’t need to feel overwhelmed,
because our flock is always a part of God’s great flock, the Church,
and our shepherds are always serving with the power of our Great Shepherd.

And so, it seems fitting to end with a brief prayer,
the one appointed for Psalm 23.
Let us pray,

“Lord Jesus Christ, shepherd of your Church, you give us new birth in the waters of baptism; you anoint us with oil, and call us to salvation at your table. Dispel the terrors of death and the darkness of error. Lead your people along safe paths, that they may rest securely in you and dwell in the house of the Lord now and forever, for your name’s sake. Amen.” (Lutheran Book of Worship, Ministers Desk Edition, p. 353)

Ut in Omnibus Glorificetur Deus.

Anointed with the Spirit…

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Introduction

In 1991, while serving as the pastor of First Lutheran Church, Potter, Neb., and Grace Lutheran Church, Gurley, Neb., I prepared a second series of six daily devotions, calling the collection “Baptized in the Name: Devotions for the Harvest.” This is the fourth in the collection.

Reading: Mark 1:9-15

“In the waters of the Jordan your Son was baptized by John and anointed with the Spirit.” (Martin Luther’s Flood Prayer, Holy Baptism, Lutheran Book of Worship, p. 122)

Devotion

At his Baptism, Christ saw the Spirit descend upon him and heard his Father’s voice. This event empowered him to withstand the devil’s temptation and to proclaim the coming of God’s reign.

We too receive the gift of the Holy Spirit at Baptism and we hear the voice of God say, “You are my child.” Through these gifts, we receive the strength to say “No” to the offers of Satan and to speak the Good News of God’s reign.

Prayer

Heavenly Father, stir up the gift of your Spirit in us, that we may proclaim the Good News of your Reign, promised to us in our Holy Baptism; in Christ’s name we pray. Amen.

Ut in Omnibus Glorificetur Deus

The Dilemma of Humanity and Divinity

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Introduction

This paper is one I wrote in college. Dated Sept. 25, 1981, it was submitted to Drs. Agnes B. O’Donnell and Donald E. Byrne for Honors HCC-201.

Paper

The Bible records and interprets the development of Judaism and Christianity, two faiths under one God. Christendom’s Bible contains two testaments under one cover. The Old and New Testaments are also called the Old and New Covenants, agreements between God and humankind, binding together privilege and responsibility with a developing code of laws. Through the Law, which evolves from the stories of Genesis to the Good News of Jesus Christ, the people of the Bible relate their conception of God with their own humanness, attempting to understand both.

Genesis first reveals the biblical concept of humanness and its relationship to God, where man is created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26-27), and where God charges man with the duties of earth’s steward (Genesis 1:28). Genesis’s writers perceive God to be the omnipotent, omniscient, and fully good Creator and Initiator of all things, who defines humankind’s role as caretaker of the world (Genesis 2:15), but still part of it (Genesis 3:19). The laws originate in God (Genesis 2:16), and when humans disobey them, God exacts a sentence (Genesis 3:16-19). The almighty God circumscribes the boundaries of humanness.

During the Exodus, the relationship between the people of Israel and God further develops, and they learn to know He is their God (Exodus 3:16). In addition, their humanness entails being His people and the object of His concern (Exodus 3:7-10). To achieve the salvation they recognize coming from God (Exodus 15:2), the people of Israel seek to follow the Decalogue (Exodus 20:1-17), God’s dictation of humankind’s responsibilities to Him and others in the covenant relationship. The Ten Commandments and other forms of divinely inspired Hebrew law define that relationship and prescribe the method for living as God’s chosen people.

Where the Pentateuch explains the relationship of humankind and God with laws and obedience, Hosea’s prophecy explores that relationship through the symbols of marriage’s love, faithfulness, and mercy (Hosea 2:18-20). The Hebrew picture of God has changed from an image of the judgmental and stern father to an image of the compassionate and forgiving husband. Hosea feels the Hebrews, as human beings and God’s children, must seek their sins’ remission, relying on God’s capacity to forgive (Hosea 5:15-6:2). He also experiences God’s power to regenerate through love, saying He “…will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth” (Hosea 6:3b). Hosea’s prophecy develops the awareness of the God of Love, who further reveals Himself in the person of Jesus Christ.

Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God (Mark 1:1), presents the fullest understanding of God’s nature and the best model of humanness by existing, acting, and speaking. Within the context of the Mosaic and prophetic view of the divine-human relationship, Jesus complements, not supplants (Matthew 5:17). He does, however, break with Old Testament Law when dealing with salvation, which one cannot achieve by observing the Law, but which God gives to believing Christians (Galatians 2:16). Throughout His life, He exemplifies the ideal of humanity and the reality of divinity, exhibiting boundless love, compassion, understanding, devotion, dedication, self-sacrifice, intelligence, insight, and strength. When He says the greatest commandment is that “…you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength (Mark 12:30), He defines what should be the aspiration of all humankind. Jesus simultaneously illustrates complete humanity and divinity.

The Bible reflects a changing understanding of the Law of God, which parallels a developing conception of humanity and divinity. The writings seek to discover the nature of these two forces by analyzing the relationship between them. In the Old Testament, the relationship works with laws, making the contrast diffuse. But in Jesus Christ, the comparison is immediate and intimate. The questions of what it means to be a human being and who or what is God or transcendence demand answers, yet appear unanswerable when tackled. But the compulsion to keep trying is rooted deeply in the human psyche, as witnessed by the existence and continuing popularity of the Bible and similar works from other traditions.

In the End…

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Occasion

This is a homily for the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, July 12, 2009, based upon the day’s Gospel, Mark 6:14-29.

Prayer

Let us pray…
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

Homily

One of the sayings I learned in German class in college
has stuck with me all these years,
even as my limited ability to speak and read the language
has largely faded away.

My professor led us in exploring German literature,
and he drilled into my classmates and me
the saying, “It is always in the details.”

And by that, he meant that when
we read and appreciate a work of literature,
we should pay attention to the choices
the writer has made.

We should assume that the writer was an artist,
and that he or she selected each word
and placed it in a particular place
in a sentence.
And then we would look at how
the writer strung those sentences together
in a precise order
so that we, the readers,
would experience the desired sweep of the story,
feel the emotions of the characters,
and know their victories and defeats.

This saying, “It is always in the details,”
can be a helpful guide, too, when reading the Bible.
The writers of the Scriptures
not only were inspired as artists
to create a lasting work of profound beauty
but also were inspired by the Spirit
to proclaim the Word of God.

So, it’s a natural thing for us
to listen to today’s Gospel
—a hard and strange story—
to dwell on the details,
and to ask some questions.

And maybe by looking
at how Mark arranges the story,
and at what he says and when,
we can open ourselves
to the inspired message
God wants to share with us
through this text.

The story begins right where
last week’s Gospel ended.
The disciples, empowered by Jesus,
travel with only staves and sandals and tunics
and proclaim a message of repentance,
cast out demons,
and anoint the sick and cure them.

Then Mark writes:
14King Herod heard of [the work of the Twelve], for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” 15But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” 16But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised” (Mark 6:14-16, NRSV).

And in a way, that’s the end of the story,
or at least the main plot of the story.
Because if you jump ahead,
past the last verse of today’s Gospel,
Mark tells how the Twelve,
now called apostles,
report to Jesus:
30The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught (Mark 6:31, NRSV).

So what Mark tells us
is that Jesus authorizes his followers
to minister with the power of God.
Their work catches people’s attention,
and they in turn wonder and speculate
about what is going on.
Then the followers return to Jesus
and tell him the stories of their ministry.

That much is pretty clear and straightforward.
But then, Mark sticks this long and graphic and disturbing account
of the beheading of John the Baptist
right into the middle of the story
of the apostles’ ministry in Jesus’ name.

In fact, this story’s strange and disturbing details
might explain why
the account of the beheading
had not appeared in our lectionary
until our church released its new worship book
three years ago.
So this might be at most the second time
we have heard this passage in worship.

But remember that we are trusting
Mark as an inspired artist and writer.
So when he pulls apart the story
of the apostles and slips in
what we’d call a flashback
to explain the beheading of John the Baptist,
he must have a compelling message
to share with us in that flashback.

In Mark’s story,
the work of the disciples
causes a stir and leads people to speculate.
They try to explain
those powerful calls to repent,
the throwing out of demons,
and the healing of sick people.

And in ways that are so familiar to us,
they look for explanations
for what they don’t know
in what they do know.

Maybe the buzz is about
John the baptizer, they say to one another.
He was killed,
but perhaps he’s come back to life.
Or maybe Elijah has returned.
Or if not him, perhaps another prophet.

Even Herod, the king or tetrarch,
weighs in with his theories:
It must be John. I’d had him beheaded,
but he has been raised.

Since we know the whole Gospel,
we can see where everyone goes off the track.
We know that Mark’s account starts out saying,
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” (Mark 1:1, NRSV).
And near its end, the centurion standing before Jesus on the cross, says,
“Truly this man was God’s Son” (Mark 15:39b, NRSV).
We know that Jesus is not Elijah returned or any prophet;
he is the Son of God.

And we know that John comes to point beyond himself,
to redirect attention to Jesus Christ.
And so he cries in the wilderness,
“Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight” (Mark 1:3b, NRSV).
And he proclaims,
“The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me…” (Mark 1:17a, NRSV).

This is about all we know of John’s message.
And all we do know of John the man is that he never strayed
from pointing to Jesus Christ and his ministry.
And so, maybe, the reason
Mark tells us about John’s beheading
is to bring together the man and his message,
to show how silencing him actually speaks God’s word.

Because John spoke fearlessly,
and without regard for his own self-preservation,
because he spoke God’s truth,
even to people in power,
he remained faithful to the end
in witnessing to Jesus Christ.

His grisly and gory death,
his witness become martyrdom,
was his final testimony,
his final wordless
act of proclamation.

In his silent and speechless death,
he shouted to all people,
“These deeds of power are not mine,
nor Elijah’s nor any prophets’.
They are the work of Jesus Christ,
the one who comes saying,
‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near;
repent, and believe in the good news’ (Mark 1:15, NRSV).”

It might be hard for us
to see ourselves
reflected in the faces
of ancient Galilean courtiers and officers and leaders.
We might not identify
with schemers in the back rooms of palaces.

But when it comes to the nameless, faceless people
in the crowds, walking on the streets,
gathering in the marketplace, sitting in the taverns,
talking about the strange news
circulating about these followers of Jesus,
we have no trouble seeing ourselves in them.

It is a sadly natural reaction among us.
In ways so common among all people,
we too look for explanations
for what we don’t know
in what we do know.

And so we ignore John’s witness and message,
and we try to explain the events in our lives
as the actions of forces and causes
we know and understand.

What attracts people to come to church—
this church or any church?
Perhaps it is our location.
We’re easy to reach, on a well-traveled road.
Maybe our worship is inviting
for people who like contemporary or traditional music.

What inspires people to give generously?
It could be that we are clear about how
donations are allocated and spent.
It might be that a certain cause is appealing,
or a special ministry is attractive.

It’s not that location and style
and accountability and presentation
don’t matter, because they do.
They are all parts of how
we work together faithfully
to point, like John the Baptist,
to Jesus Christ and his message of the kingdom.

But in the end,
the only real and true and trustworthy explanation
is the one that we don’t fully know
and will not fully understand in this life.

In the end,
we can’t follow John the Baptist’s direction,
we can’t come after the apostles
and proclaim the message of the kingdom
and invite repentance
and pray for healing
if we are content to find our explanations
in the things we know.

In the end,
we have only our faith
in the same Jesus Christ
who came up from the waters,
baptized by John,
and now has washed us in the waters of baptism.

In the end,
we have only our trust
in the Son of God
who sent his apostles
with only the necessary equipment,
and now sends us

with exactly what we need.

In the end,
we have only our hope
in the risen Lord
who has poured out his power in his followers
to witness and serve, and perhaps to die ,
and now pours out his Spirit on us,
so that we may serve and witness,
even if it means our death,
both figuratively and literally.

But, in the end,
we can be sure that he watches over us,
that he will gather us together around him,
just as he gathered his apostles
and John and the prophets
and all the faithful who have died before us.

And then,
when we tell him what we have done in his name,
he will say to us,
just what he said to his apostles:
“Come away to a deserted place
all by yourselves and rest a while” (Mark 6:31a, NRSV). Amen.

Ut in Omnibus Glorificetur Deus.

Seeking the Face of Grace

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Let us pray…
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

+ + +
There is a crooked ash tree
that rises bent and twisted
from a berm alongside the driveway
at our house.

At night a light mounted
amid its branches
shines down into the leaves.
It’s warm and inviting.

But when you stand up on the hill
above our house in the dark
and look at the ash tree—
or at least when I look at it—
there is a face like a mask
looking back at me
from those downlit branches.

A face stern and foreboding,
yet strong and paternal,
like a guard standing watch
over our home at night.

Psychologists tell us
that we see faces and shapes
in lit up branches
and billowing clouds
and folds of drapes
in our childhood bedrooms,
not because they are there,
but because they aren’t there.

And when we encounter
unknown and unfamiliar patterns
our minds try to make sense
from the confusion by imposing
the known and the familiar
upon the chaos.

There is nothing we know better
than the basic shape of a face.
For most of us,
the features of a caregiver,
perhaps a mother or father,
were the first shapes we saw
with any clarity from our infant eyes.

So, it’s no surprise that faces
look back at us from the turbulence
of the world that swirls around us.

Sometimes that churn threatens us,
but sometimes the changes
wash over us as a natural and expected
part of our lives.

Right now we are all living
amid such a time of change.
You have known
that your pastor was retiring,
and so he and you prepared
for his departure.

This was a natural step
along the journey in the life of a parish
as a part of the people of God.
You knew he was leaving,
and could prepare for it.

But no anticipation,
no playing out the scenarios
in the mind beforehand
can actually take the place
of living through the changes.

The last day of June came and went,
and now he has retired,
and you are here,
facing the first days
of the next leg of your journey
as the people of Holy Cross Lutheran Church.

You’re still here,
and now I am here too.
A few of you know a little about me,
and I know a little about several of you.
But for the most,
we are unknown and unfamiliar
to one another.

And so, quickly, without our needing to ask,
our minds go to work
to make sense of the new people
in our lives,
to seek some familiar pattern
amid the changes.

A part of this search
is to seek help
in making sense of the change.
So when we hear today’s readings,
we might be led
to believe we are hearing
three texts that speak spot-on
to our needs.

And we might just as quickly wonder
if we hear those messages
just because we need them to be there,
and not because they really are there.

But God’s Word is not at all like
a random fold in the curtain,
or the billow of a cumulus cloud,
or the dappling of light on leaves.

His Word is not random or chaotic.
Instead, God’s Word is purposeful,
packed with meaning,
deliberate, inspired,
intended to speak to us
precisely because we need to hear it,
telling us exactly what we need to hear
to help us make sense
of the changes in our lives.

All of us, gathered here today,
are faced with changes from the familiar
that challenge us to ask ourselves
deep and significant questions:
“What is God calling us to do?
What is his desire for our ministry?
How ought we respond in faith to his summons?”

These are the questions that
swirl and churn in our thoughts,
that perhaps weigh heavily on our hearts,
or that hold our guts in their grasp.

And then we hear God speak to Ezekiel,
we overhear his commissioning,
God sending him on a mission,
to witness among the chosen people.
“Mortal, I am sending you to the people of Israel…
and you shall say to them, ‘Thus says the Lord GOD.” (Ezekiel 2:3a, 4b, NRSV)

In some way, this is God’s mission for us too.
And in the weeks and months ahead,
we will be blessed to be able
to figure out together—
prayerfully, deliberately, faithfully—
where God is sending us,
to whom he sends us,
and what he desires for us to say and to do in his name.

Then as we turn our attention
to Saint Paul,
we hear his admittedly strange description
of his own encounter with God.
I don’t think anyone really knows
what he means by “the third heaven,”
or what it was like to be
“caught up into Paradise and [hear] things
that are not to be told,
that no mortal is permitted to repeat.” (2 Corinthians 12:2, 4, NRSV).

But even so,
we can make sense of his honesty,
of the clear and unwavering gaze
he brings to looking at himself,
his basic makeup and personality,
his tendencies and habits,
his gifts and wounds.

And so, he stands among us,
as one of us, when he says,
“…but on my own behalf
I will not boast, except of my weaknesses.
But if I wish to boast,
I will not be a fool,
for I will be speaking the truth.
But I refrain from it,
so that no one may think better of me
than what is seen in me or heard from me,
even considering the exceptional character
of the revelations.” (2 Corinthians 12:5b-7a, NRSV)

Paul struggles with his calling,
he finds himself wondering
what God desires of him
and how he is to respond to that divine summons.
Paul faces a conflict within himself,
where he feels tempted to boast,
to bask in his own elation, his own experience.

But then he finds himself
knocked down by a thorn in the flesh.
And again, we don’t know for sure
what he means by that.
But we can understand him crying out to the Lord,
asking for release from his discomfort,
to be set free from his circumstances,
for the grace of God to calm the chaos,
to still the swirling currents in his life
and bring him calm and peace.

Then, he hears an answer from God,
an answer that speaks to us as well.
“My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NRSV)

This is a word from God that we can trust.
We can cling to the hope it offers us.
It does not matter, in the end,
that we are weak,
because God promises, by his grace,
to care for us, not because we are strong and deserving,
but because we are weak and in need.

What does power perfected in weakness look like?
What shape will our lives take
when God’s sufficient grace
washes over us?

We can’t know for sure
exactly how God will mold us,
how he will take us and use us
for his purposes.

But we do know that power perfected in weakness
looks like a man crucified,
like the Son of Man dying on a cross,
but in dying, conquering death,
and then rising to life
through the power of his Father’s love
poured out through their Holy Spirit.

So, as we seek together to know
how God asks us to serve him,
we can trust that this love and grace and power
that say “no” to hate and sin
through the perfect weakness of the cross
is God’s gift to us.

This is enough for Paul,
it has been enough for the Church,
and it is enough for you and me,
not because any of us says it is,
but because God promises that it is.

“My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NRSV)

In Mark’s Gospel too,
we hear the same assurance,
this time in Jesus’ words to his disciples.
He speaks with power,
“…[giving] them authority over the unclean spirits,”
so with his blessing,
they “…[go] out and proclaim[] that all should repent.
They cast out many demons,
and anoint[] with oil many who [are] sick and cure[] them.” (Mark 6:7,12-13, NRSV)

Jesus sends each of them out almost empty-handed,
with only a staff, a tunic, and a pair of sandals.
But just as was later to be true with Paul,
the disciples discover
that their ministry’s power is made perfect in weakness,
because Jesus’ grace is sufficient for them.

So the disciples go and tell others
about Jesus’ message to repent.
Many hear it and turn from their sins,
and then they tell others,
and so on, until finally
by God’s grace,
you and I are gathered here today,
turning daily from our sins
and finding God’s grace sufficient
to give us strength in our weakness.

God wants to share that grace with us,
he wants to bring order to the chaos in our lives,
to help us discern the path of our journey,
to lead us to discover how he calls us to serve.

None of this is new because our lives are changing.
but perhaps we see from a fresh point of view
because change has come to our lives.
That’s what opens our eyes of faith
to see God’s face in the confusion of our days.
That’s what attunes our ears of faith
to hear his voice calling calmly
amid the clatter of our waking hours
and the chatter in our heads as we try to rest.

We don’t need to fear or to worry
or to wonder whether he cares,
because he says to us,
“My grace is sufficient for you,
for power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9, NRSV)

He sets his table for us and invites us
to come, to eat, and to drink.
These are his gifts of grace, sufficient for us.
They will give us the strength we need
to embrace this day and to step out in faith,
walking together on the journey before us. Amen.