Lost in Translation - Who's your king now?

John 18: 33-37 ~ Christ the King Sunday

A few years ago, there was an award-winning movie called “Lost in Translation.” The story is set in Japan, where an American actor is being filmed in a Japanese whiskey commercial. The actor does not speak or understand any Japanese, and the director speaks no English. One of the scenes goes like this:

On set to rehearse for the shoot of the advertisement, the director of the commercial speaks in Japanese to the interpreter:

“The translation is very important, okay?”

The interpreter responds, also in Japanese,
          “Yes, of course. I understand.”

Now the director addresses his instructions to the actor, “Mr. Bob.” He looks at the actor intently and begins to give his creative direction clearly and concisely, though of course, again in Japanese:

“You are sitting quietly in your study. And then there is a bottle of Suntory whisky on top of the table. You understand, right? With wholehearted feeling, slowly, look at the camera, tenderly, and as if you are meeting old friends, say the words. As if you are Bogie in Casablanca, say, "Here's looking at you, kid,— Suntory time!”

Now it is the interpreter’s turn to translate this important direction to Bob. He turns to the actor and in English says, “He wants you to turn, look in camera. Okay?” End of translation.

Bob blinks and asks, “...Is that all he said?” End of scene.

This illustration reminds us that a great deal can be and often is, “lost in translation.” Our everyday lives are filled with moments lost in translation – moments when meaningful details are entirely overlooked; moments when interpretive reflection misses the real point of a conversation;         moments when we talk past each other; when your words and my interpretation don’t quite match up; moments when what you think is most important is the one part of the conversation I dismiss as irrelevant.

In relationships, the fallout of this phenomenon is played out all of the time. Being lost in translation means missing important information, making false assumptions about a person or a group of people; what is lost in translation is often the missing piece of a puzzle that has the ability to complete a picture accurately.

Sometimes these missing details are innocuous. Other times, missing the point creates situations which can totally change the trajectory of a relationship, or even of history itself.

Missing the point or not “getting” the full message can create misunderstandings. It can even lead to me giving you bad information. When vital pieces such as these are lost in translation, dysfunction and division between people result.

In the movie, in addition to the meaning and detail lost in the translation of the director’s words, the central character in the film, Bob, is lost in other ways. On a basic level, he is lost in a culture which is alien to him, where he does not speak the language, and does not understand simple social cues – he is, after all, an outsider in Japan; he is a stranger in a strange land.

Our relationship with God is also, it would seem, filled with instances of this same phenomenon. Lost in translation. Missing the boat.

The disciples of Jesus are often mystified and confused by details which have been lost in translation. The gospels are full of instances where Jesus is teaching about the meaning of God’s love, about who he is, and about how he is in fact the perfect expression of God’s mercy and justice.

But Jesus’ words and motives are often lost in translation not only by those who oppose him, but by those follow him as well.

Today is a day in the church year when we celebrate the reign of Christ, but the claim that Christ is King is one of those realities that can easily be lost in translation.

So it was for Pilate, and in many ways, so it is, still, for us, today.

Because the kingship of Jesus is nothing like anything else in our collective experience. God’s way of rule is as foreign to us as the Japanese language and culture were to “Mr. Bob”.

If we look at our gospel text for today, Jesus has been taken to the praetorium – the headquarters of the Roman military governor,        Pontius Pilate. There, Pilate tries to get to the bottom of this “Jesus problem.”

I can only imagine Pilate’s frustration. Jesus is accused of claiming royal status and power. In a world where status and power were carefully measured, delegated and protected, Pilate wants to get to the bottom of this claim of his.

So, Pilate tries getting a straight answer out of Jesus.

“Are you the King of the Jews?” All Pilate wants is a yes or no. A simple answer. Then he can go home for the day.

But as we know, Jesus’ response is not so simple – Jesus knows what no mortal can fully understand. Jesus cannot answer Pilate with a simple affirmation or denial.

What Jesus knows, what Pilate and we struggle to understand is that our human, culturally, politically and economically driven ideas and understanding of kingship do not come even close to God’s reality as revealed by the Reign of Jesus.

Earthly kingdoms have boundaries and earthly kings have limitations. Mortal kings live and die, they come and go. The borders of earthly kingdoms and provinces, of finite nations and their leadership are constantly shifting.

The reality of the kingdom of God and the kind of royalty defined by Jesus is simply lost in translation because the kingdom of God is limitless and Jesus’ reign is eternal.

Jesus answered Pilate, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth.” And we collectively stand around and scratch our heads and wonder, is this a test?

Because that answer astounds and confuses us, even we who believe in Jesus. We know what is coming. We know about the passion and death of Jesus. And if Jesus is a king, our king, and we believe he is, then why doesn’t he just come out and say so? And if Jesus is truly king, and therefore in charge, why is the world in such a mess?

What is lost in translation between Pilate’s insistent question and ours, is the meaning and scope of kingship. Through his teaching and his ministry on earth, Jesus has been demonstrating the radical difference between the human concept of royal rank and the godly reality of God’s kingdom and rule.

While in the history of the world earthly kings have been people who have wielded great power, who have ruled over people and armies,       who have claimed ultimate allegiance and obedience from their subjects by sheer threat of force and violence, who have demonstrated giant-sized flaws to go along with their enormous egos, God does things differently.

Our God does things like send his son to earth in a humble, human birth. Our God provides a cross for a throne, so that we can live in everlasting relationship with God in the resurrected life Jesus has won for us.

Jesus was born into this world, but is not of this world. He and Pilate speak different languages. To Pilate’s question, “So, you are a king?” Jesus responds, “You say that I am a king.” But placed side by side as each man speaks, this word – king - is lost in translation.

Because unlike the “king” of Pilate’s understanding, the king God has sent us comes with a different kind of power – a power stronger than any mortal’s – for Jesus has the ultimate power to liberate us sin and death.

And, unlike Pilate’s king, the greatest weapon in Jesus’ arsenal is love.

The Christ who claims our allegiance demands that we do as he does. When asked what is the greatest commandment, what does Jesus respond?

Jesus tells us that the greatest commandment of all is that you should love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and love your neighbor as yourself. And then Jesus says that if we love him, if we truly love him, we will keep his commandments.

We will follow his way.

We will seek the truth, that God is love, and we will cling to it and allow it to permeate our being and our behavior.

Micah 6:8 expresses God’s will and command for us beautifully:

          “He has shown you, O Mortal, what is good.

                   And what does the LORD require of you?

                             To act justly,

                                      and to love mercy,

                                                and to walk humbly with our God.”

Here is God’s mandate for us, lived by Jesus himself, who put love, mercy and justice for those in distress above his own needs and security and indeed, even above his own life.

For those under the reign of Christ, these are words to live by.

My dear Jesus followers, we are reminded that love is not an affliction of the heart but is a way of living and being - love guides and is evident in our actions.

Jesus says, “I came to testify to the truth.” To testify is to act as a witness.  Jesus himself witnessed to the love of God for humankind. This is the truth Jesus himself demonstrated for us:

The same Jesus who ate with tax collectors and sinners asks for the same kind of compassion and love from us.

The same Jesus who drank at the well with a woman of questionable morals, who supped with and loved even – especially - the one he knew would betray him, asks us to testify to the truth – that what God desires from us is that we act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly, as Jesus did.

The same Jesus who, soon after his birth found himself an alien and refugee, calls for us to open our hearts to those who suffer, to show mercy to the vulnerable, the homeless.

The tragic events and the aftermath of the past couple of weeks call us more than ever to show ourselves to be Jesus followers   who are truth-tellers in a world spinning frighteningly out of control, knowing that there is but one king who rules our hearts, our lives and our love-driven actions.

There is but one king whose reign is absolute.

          There is but one king who can calm our fears,

                   proclaim peace,

                             call for justice,

                                      cry for mercy, and who loves us

                                                from the depth of his being,

                                                          from the height of the cross.                                            

This king, our king, the Christ who reigns over all requires that we demonstrate by our very lives that our kingdom is not of this world, thanks be to God!

Amen.

Chaos, Clutter, and Cost - Attachment Issues

Mark 10:17-31

            I was in a local store last week, and I just couldn’t keep from smiling to myself, though I was probably the only one around doing that. NOT smiling were the parents of a toddler, a little boy who was absolutely, heartbreakingly, and very noisily expressing his displeasure as his parents explained to him that no, he would not be getting anything from the store today. They were there for another reason. No, no toy; no Power Ranger; no ball, and certainly no candy.

            I smiled because I knew that struggle - I could remember enduring similar scenes, especially with the youngest of our three children. While our other two children saw him as the spoiled and indulged baby of the family, the “one who gets everything,” the one “who got to do the things we never got to do,” or at least got to do them sooner, he saw himself as the disadvantaged youngest. He was the one who got the leftovers. He was the one who got left behind when the other two got to do the really cool stuff. He got the hand-me-downs. He never got what they got.

            Maybe it was this sense of relative depravation that caused this child, more than either of our other two, to have melt-downs like the one that I witnessed in the store. Could that child wail! He just couldn’t help himself.

            His distress was so keen, his disappointment so deep, his grief so profound that it just poured out of him. I remember once he actually blurted out between sobs, “but I have to get something! I just have to!” He didn’t even care what it was. He just had to have. Some. Thing. Fortunately, that particular stage of development passed, and both our son and his parents survived it.

            Having been so recently reminded of those days, however, I thought of the children’s honest struggle and the stress and grief “needing to have things” caused them (and us) when I read the gospel lesson for today. Because, for the man in our story, his attachment to what he thought he needed was a real stumbling block for him, wasn’t it?

            So much so, that for the first and only time in the Gospel of Mark, the person offered healing and relief by Jesus rejects it. “Jesus looked at him and loved him.” In love, Jesus offered this man healing.

            What kind of healing does the man need? Perhaps he needs to be freed from the possession of his possessions – the power they hold over him. He needs to be freed from his idea of what is important in life, and what it means to be faithful.

            Jesus offers to free him of what possesses him, to cure him of what binds him. “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” But the man walked away, grieving. He just doesn’t get it.

            Jesus brings a reorientation of understanding of what is essential to life. The first few commandments on the tablets Moses brought down from Mt. Sinai had to do with our relationship with God. What followed, the ones Jesus lists now for this eager, seemingly sincere young man have to do with our relationships with others. It is what Jesus has been telling us all along. “Do not keep the little children from me.” Relationships matter. “Go, sell what you have. Give the money to the poor.” Relationships matter. “The last shall be first and the first shall be last.” Relationships in the kingdom of God matter – and they won’t look like what we cling to so tenaciously as what we “need” or “want.”

            Our notice and engagement with others in our community and in our world matter. Care of the poor is essential for those who follow Jesus.

            But the man in our story doesn’t understand. He goes away grieving, because he can’t imagine giving up the life he is currently clinging to – even for the true life that Jesus offers. His “stuff” got in the way of life.

            I can relate to this man. I get the thing about how attachment to things and to my own ideas of what is important can get in the way.

            My husband and I are getting ready to move to a new house soon. So, I’ve been spending a lot of hours going through the house and the garage doing the hard work of purging.

            While I am not a hoarder – I do have clutter. Our adult study group talked about clutter during one of our conversations this summer; about how it enters our lives and how hard it is to get it to leave. Of course, part of the problem is in most cases it doesn’t leave on its own. Which means we have to be intentional about getting it out, and keeping it out.

            We discussed the ways clutter affects us physically, emotionally, relationally, and spiritually; about how it can hold us back and impede our well-being in every one of those areas.

            After that conversation, I decided I was going to go through our house and purge us of all our clutter. I was going to free our lives for other, better, more important things, more godly things. Oh, the ambitious goals we have….

            The thing is, it’s not easy. I may not be screaming and crying and hollering like those children in the stores did about letting go of the stuff we have accumulated, but I am finding this hard, exhausting work.

            Am I possessed by my possessions too? Probably. Am I clinging more tightly to this “stuff” than to the relationships Jesus is inviting me into having with him? With others? Most certainly.

            Am I refusing to be healed by Jesus?  What can I do to inherit eternal life?

            Here’s the rub. That’s the wrong question. The answer to that question is, “nothing”.  We know that on our own there is nothing we can do or say to earn eternal life and forgiveness of our sin. We know that the camel has nothing over us in level-of-difficulty for earning eternal life. It is impossible.

            For human beings earning eternal life is indeed impossible. But it is not impossible for God. With God all things are possible. Neither wealth nor the divestment of wealth saves us. Only God can do that. Knowing our weakness, God has done in Jesus Christ the only thing God could do to raise us up to new life.

            In Jesus is the eternal life we seek. But that is not all. The eternal life we neither earn nor deserve is freely given to us by Jesus on the cross. It is assured through our baptism. We are reminded of it powerfully each time we gather around the table and hear the words, “….given for you……shed for you for the forgiveness of sin.”

            Perhaps the question we should be asking, then, is “how can I live a life more reflective of the love and values of Jesus?”

            In calling us his own through Jesus, God reorients us to the life to which God calls us. The grateful response to the gift of that life requires putting our hearts, our minds, our behaviors, our choices, and our relationships before our ideas or possessions.”            

             Jesus makes it clear that our relationship with the rest of God’s children is at the top of what concerns disciples of Christ. To follow Jesus means to love what Jesus loves. Jesus loves and calls us to love the least, last, lost, little and lifeless - those who lack the economic opportunities we have; those who live in poverty; those who are the cast aways of society – Jesus calls us to joyfully love and share our bounty with these.

            Our possessions blind us to the needs of our brother and sister. Jesus invites us to take off the blinders – “go…sell”. Sometimes they make us want to erect barriers between ourselves and others to keep out those who might compete with our ability to amass even more wealth. Jesus responds, “…sell what you have…give to the poor.” Dependence on our stuff keeps us from realizing our true dependence on God. Jesus invites us, “Come, follow me.”

            In our gospel text, the man thinks he is ready to commit, to do whatever Jesus tells him to – perhaps he thinks there is a simple exercise to complete, or some parchment that needs to be signed, or some final steps to be checked off a list. Because if he can just do something, then he is home free. “…tell me what to do, I’ll do anything you want, just give me this thing I want or need.”

            Like many Jews of Jesus’ time, the man probably thought of his wealth as a sign of God’s blessing. Not only a sign for him but also a sign to those around him. “Here I am. Blessed by God.” We are not all that different.

            What do you love so much that you might put it above relationship with God and all that God is offering you?

Rather than blessing, Jesus sees this thing as the impediment it truly is.

                At the heart of this gospel, we remember that Jesus looked at this man, and loved him. Love is a way of seeing, and in loving the young man, Jesus sees him as he truly is, but in a way that the man is not yet capable of seeing for himself. Jesus loves him AS HE IS, while this man seems to think there is more he must do.

            Jesus wants him to have life, but lets him know that it is his own attachments that prevent him from finding fullness of life.

            What is it in your life to which you might be clinging? What is the sword upon which you would fall, the thing you just can’t imagine giving up? What might you be tempted to turn away and pursue, rather than accepting Jesus’ invitation? Is it material? Intellectual? Relational?

            Jesus is inviting us, too, to let go. Whether we do or we don’t Jesus is still loving us, still caring for us, always desiring the best for us, and continuing to call us to follow. Jesus looks lovingly at the young man, at us, and awaits for us, waiting for us to know the joy and full life of discipleship.

           

Christmas Creche, Creatures, and Stewardship

Mark 10:2-16, Genesis 2:18-24

I have to confess that I am a fan of St. Francis of Assisi. I mean, who wouldn’t love a man who gives up the benefits of class and wealth in order to have a closer relationship with God? What is there not to admire about a man who commits to a life devoted to healthy relationship with God and neighbor? Who wouldn’t love a man who purportedly spoke to the birds, made friends even with wild animals, and embraced a God-centered ethic of love and peace?

Most notably, in case none of that impresses you, who wouldn’t love the man responsible for Christmas pageants and the Christmas crèche – those nativity scenes we display at Christmas? Though I must say the Francis who embraced a life of simplicity and even austerity would probably be stunned and horrified by many of the garish, commercialized offerings of the nativity already on display in stores this first weekend of October.

Today is the feast day of St. Francis of Assisi, a man who is identified as a renewer of the faith, and is also known for his great love and care for creation.

While we Lutherans do not worship the saints, nor do we pray to them as intercessories, we do honor them for the vision they offer of what the life of faith might look like. We consider what they can teach us about how a living relationship with God and how faith-full life – within which relationship with God is at the core of our being and the center of our decisions and behavior - might be experienced.

We remember the stories of the various named saints as their feast days approach and we recall that by God’s love and mercy, each of us is a saint of God too, named as such through our baptism, a fact that we will celebrate soon, on all Saints Day.

Francis of Assisi is a favorite among the saints, especially for peacemakers, tree huggers, and animal lovers. He is a frequent resident of both home and garden in statuary and artistic form. His gift to humankind was his love of God as he experienced God in all creation.

While we reflect on the themes of love and care for which God has created us, themes we see reflected in Francis’ life and work, we acknowledge those same themes working within the scripture readings we just read.

The stories of Francis and the biblical record work together to remind us not only how very much God intends good for us, but also how God uses us to serve the good of all within God’s creation.

God provides for abundant life for all that God loves. In the creation story from Genesis today, we are reminded that in the midst of God’s great works of creation, God determined that it was not good for the human to be alone, and so God gave him a partner, but not before God created the animals and birds, bringing each one to the first human for their naming.

This is a significant part of our story, because in the Hebrew Bible, the very act of giving a name is important and fraught with meaning. Giving a name is an act of love; giving a name is an act of bonding; giving a name is relational - it is an act which takes place within what is meant to be a lasting relationship. To underscore the importance of the bond and relationship of humanity and the creation, God gives Adam this privilege and duty.

Likewise, in the Hebrew Bible, when God calls you by name, it means that God loves you. When God calls you by name, it signifies that God is already in intimate relationship with you. Each of us, in our own baptism, is in fact called by name as well as given the name, Child of God.

In our reading from Genesis we learn that God engaged Adam, this very first human, in the naming exercise in the garden. To be human, is to be loved by God and to be drawn together in intimate relationship with all the others that God has created and loves. This text gives us the story of how God provides for the companionship and relationship at the very beginning.

In the gospel story, the Pharisees come to Jesus seeking an answer to a relationship question. In actuality, Mark makes it clear from the beginning that their question is really not a concern about relationship at all.

The Pharisees aren’t really looking to Jesus to clarify or teach them about love, marriage and divorce. They aren’t looking for clarity about how the laws address relationships and how the law of God applies to divorce. Not really. Rather, they are there to trip Jesus up. Having already begun an agenda to destroy this troublesome rabbi, they ask the question to test him hoping to cause him to stumble. It is really a trick question. Maybe they can discredit him.

But Jesus is wise to their ploy, and uses this opportunity to teach about the broader issues at hand; issues like our relationship with all that God has given us – most especially the people - all the people - God has placed in our lives.

These texts serve us well as stewardship texts, inasmuch as they truly speak to the way we consider, treat and care for one another and for all that God has given us.

It is in the broad spectrum of relationships that we define what we truly care about. God wants us to value and care about what God values and cares about. If we value what God values and has placed in our lives, we will have the kind of healthy relationships and world that God desires, and the kingdom of God demands.

God has given us so much, and our relationship with each of these gifts of God matters. The relationships God has established – between humankind and the works of God’s creation, between those whom God gives to love one another in loving union, with the neighbors God gives us and the communities in which God places us, communities like this one – are all gifts from God. And, as God has created and given for their care, God desires that within the scope of our relationships, we care for them too.

So in our gospel text, Jesus first makes it clear that the reason for the law God passed on through Moses and every law since has had at the heart of it God’s desire to fix a problem. The problem is that the lure of power, control and selfishness which result in  this hardness of heart that Jesus refers to - corrupts the goodness and purity of God’s intention for humanity.

In God’s goodness and love, God gave the law to support and nurture healthy relationships on earth. Jesus makes clear that God’s hope is that our relationships are more than legal matters but instead holistically provide for abundant life within relationships of mutual dependence and vitality.

This week is a week in which it has sometimes been difficult to see the cherished relationship God desires for us existing at all.

We have been surrounded by evidence of the brokenness of humanity and the persistent hardness of the human heart in the continuing refugee crisis and the fighting in Syria and Afghanistan; stories of executions and stays of executions; the ongoing issues of poverty and racial inequality and tensions here and elsewhere; and further upheaval on the political stage.

By week’s end we were confronted with yet another shooting, yet another school turned into a bloodbath, yet another massacre fueled by hatred or mental illness, either way igniting yet again the question of why exactly we hold more dearly to a law which holds the sanctity of gun ownership over the sanctity of life and protection of our citizens and children, who are too often the tragic, innocent victims in gun-related violence.

We know true brokenness in a world not only torn apart by war but a world in which international institutions of medical assistance are dismissed as “collateral damage” in combat action.

We know this brokenness not only from world events. We experience this brokenness when once-loving relationships do end in divorce; in everyday acts of jealousy and hostility; in the times we find ourselves caring too much about our status or power and too little about what is at the heart of our relationships.

The strong connection between today’s Old Testament reading and the Gospel story are timely, coming as they do during a week in which our weariness over the heartbreaking brokenness of this world and the disorder in our own lives is so present and overwhelming.

“Stewardship” refers to the management and care of something. The kind of care that God calls us to is a stewardship matter. Good stewardship reflects the kind of love and care that God first built into God’s creation even to the naming of creatures.

Good stewardship in marital relationships requires ongoing care, work, flexibility and compromise. Good stewardship in community means that we listen well to the other, engage in critical thinking and problem solving and look for the welfare of the other.

Good stewardship as citizens given a place in a particular society ensures that the most vulnerable and needy in our society are cared for, valued, and protected; That children grow up nurtured physically, spiritually, emotionally, educationally, with opportunities for growth and life. Good stewardship of our resources provides that each person has a place to go home and a bed to sleep in, and good nourishing food to support good health.

All stewardship comes from a place of gratitude. St. Francis saw all that God had done in creation and more specifically at the cross of Christ as God, in solidarity with the suffering and the poor and for those yearning for love and care, became as one of us in order to bring us everlasting life.

In gratitude for God’s love and generosity, may we be blessed to look upon our families, children, the church, the poor, the environment, the neglected, the prisoner, the refugee, are all given to us as gifts from God. They are each given over to our care in gratitude for the richness of God’s mercy. May our care and service to what God has entrusted to us be experienced as both duty and delight.

In or Out!

Mark 9:38-50

This, for me, anyway, has been a fascinating week. An enormous amount of energy, focus and press has surrounded the historic visit of Pope Francis I to the United States, so much so that it has been hard not to be caught up in or at least curious about the travels, the speeches and the activities of the head of the Roman Catholic Church.

If your week found you having to travel in the direction of Washington, D.C., New York or Philadelphia, or anywhere else along the Northeast corridor, you may have found yourself in “deep doo-doo” as my mother used to say. It simply isn’t easy to move millions of extra people into and out of our cities.

While I wasn’t able to be personally present or even to observe firsthand the broadcasts of Francis’ speeches and activities, I have read reports and some transcripts of what the pope said, followed, of course, by the endless commentary about everything he did – commentary which heavily weighed in the positive, I must say.

Since he was elected to the papacy on March 13, 2013, the appeal and the fan base of this pope has grown far beyond the reaches of the Roman Catholic Church. I was not alone this week as an “outsider” who was listening, watching, and weighing the words of the pontiff.

Leaders and members of many other world religions and Christian denominations have watched his movements as have political leaders from across the globe. Along with the masses who have thronged his appearances, I have watched with growing respect and appreciation the consistent message the pope delivers regardless of his audience.

Francis has built up quite a fan base, to the extent that without the careful planning, added security detail, and massive crowd control employed this week, we might have faced a disaster similar to that which faced pilgrims to Mecca this week, where people were trampled and hundreds were killed.

Instead, millions of people crowded the cities and millions more gathered around television sets around the world to watch history being made. Yet, as poet John Lyndgate once said, in words later adapted by President Lincoln, “You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you cannot please all of the people all of the time.” The pope has his detractors, too.

For as much good and positive press the pope has garnered, there are also those who don’t like him, who question his decisions and teaching, who find him too radical and too honest and too convicting in his opinions. Yes, there are those who would like to give him the boot right out of the Vatican and back to Argentina.

As we know from the gospels, Jesus received the same kind of positive and negative attention and response during his lifetime. As we have read from the gospel of Mark over the past few months, Jesus has been traveling all around Galilee. And as his ministry has grown, his reputation for shining a new light for God’s people and new hope on those who truly walked in darkness, those who were so long waiting and yearning for just such a word, the crowds grew. So did the determination of his opponents.

People wanted to hear more from this Nazarean. They brought their diseased and disabled for healing. The poor came to be fed. Everyone was looking for a little something from him. People came out of the woodwork and as other gospels testify, even out of the ceilings to touch and be touched by him.

Watching the frenzy which surrounded Francis this week, I could only imagine what it might have been like for Jesus during his own travels around Galilee, followed by crowds from which there was no escape.

Jesus’ ministry had grown to such a point that like Moses in our first lesson this morning, disciples were chosen to help and then himself Jesus sent them to teach and preach and heal in his name. He appointed them to this ministry and made them part of the vast work of sharing God’s love and mercy in the world. But then the inevitable happened. They began to think of themselves in competitive and exclusive terms.

Like Joshua in the Old Testament text, the disciples were afflicted with forgetting – yet again – that God’s call and anointing comes in many forms to those whom God chooses.

In the gospel just before today’s story, upon hearing Jesus’ second passion prediction, some of the disciples distracted themselves along the road by arguing which of them was the greatest. Jesus had to remind them that to follow him means to take up one’s cross. Jesus he told them those who are the “last” among us will be the “first” – in God’s eyes and in God’s kingdom.

It’s part of the problem with humankind, with all of us, isn’t it? Sooner or later, no matter how pure our motives and intentions to follow in the way of Jesus, we set up walls – barriers which separate us from one another.

We create lists of who is on the inside and who is on the outside, who is in the right and who is in the wrong, who has power and is deserving, and who is powerless and undeserving, who is the greatest or most important and accomplished, and who just doesn’t matter quite as much, who is “one of us” and who is “one of them”.

The disciples come to Jesus complaining that someone who isn’t “one of us” is casting out demons in Jesus name.

But Jesus sets the record straight. “No one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me.” Or, as The Message translation puts it, “Don’t stop him. No one can use my name to do something good and powerful, and in the next breath cut me down. If he’s not an enemy, he’s an ally. Why, anyone by just giving you a cup of water in my name is on our side. Count on it that God will notice.”

Even among the Christian denominations we struggle with Jesus’ words here, because you know, there are the Evangelicals and the Charismatics; There are the Conservatives and the Moderates; There are those who read and understand the Bible as the literal, historically factual and inerrant Word of God and those who believe that the Bible is the authentic, living, and inspired Word which must be read contextually. There are Reconciling in Christ congregations who not only welcome but desire to help heal the hurts of the LGBT community and individuals and there at congregations which adamantly shut them out. And we fight one another and disregard the legitimacy of the faith of the other.

The thing is that Jesus tells us that he welcomes all who believe in him. Jesus calls many from different walks of life, from different backgrounds, cultures, and social strata to serve him. The kingdom of God is inclusive not only of whom it serves but in whom it calls to serve.

What is it that has people today talking about and following and listening to the man who was at the center of the news cycle this week? What is it about Francis that draws both crowds and praise but also deep criticism? And let me set the record straight. Unlike Jesus, Pope Francis is neither saint nor divine. So what is the draw?

Is it that he, through word and deed reflects the teachings of Jesus and in so doing is giving people who hunger and thirst for good news the hope which is for them both precious commodity and life-giving good news? Is it the down-to-earth manner of a man whose every action is scrutinized, weighed and judged by the world yet seems to be pretty consistent with the Jesus who places love and mercy ahead of politics and agenda? Is it that the man who now has our attention and is seen by so many as being radical somehow reflects the humble walk Jesus commands of all his followers as they take up their cross to follow, but which we find so challenging?

Is it the ways in which he is reaching out and urging unity and acceptance of diversity in this kingdom life and kingdom work as Jesus does in our gospel today?

In his address to Congress, Francis said, “In this land, the various religious denominations have greatly contributed to building and strengthening society. It is important that today, as in the past, the voice of faith continue to be heard, for it is a voice of fraternity and love, which tries to bring out the best in each person and in each society. Such cooperation is a powerful resource in the battle to eliminate new global forms of slavery, born of grave injustices which can be overcome only through new policies and new forms of social consensus.”

We confess that the kind of cooperation of which Francis optimistically speaks is the kind of cooperation that the disciples struggle with in the text today and is the kind of cooperation that can be a struggle for us, each and every day.

Yet the grace of God, experienced through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus is God’s way of stripping away barriers, and it encourages us to look at one another through the lens of this gospel.  

Through the incarnation of Jesus, the enfleshment of God’s own spirit for the kingdom of God, the dividing lines, the barriers that separate people and disadvantage those who are seeking, struggling, and searching are removed, knocked to the ground, and obliterated.

What does it mean to really believe that God works through all denominations?

What does it look like when cooperative ministries unite in common cause for the sake of people in need?

I suppose it looks something like hundreds of people having their homes rebuilt and life restored by a wide variety of faith groups, working cooperatively following a disaster like Superstorm Sandy as we saw happening just down the road almost three years ago, or a hurricane like Katrina or so many disasters since which have found various faith groups working cooperatively to restore lives and communities.

I suppose it might look like an Interfaith Hunger Coalition providing food for scores of people right here in Easton; I suppose it might look like a homeless shelter served by volunteers from the Jewish temple alongside members of the Quaker Meeting house, in partnership with members of Grace each and every month. These are but a few of the large network of partnerships and ministries serving the needs of this kingdom of God.

The good news of God in Jesus Christ comes to us not through the group, denomination, class, race or gender we belong to nor through the particular call that Christ has called us to, but is made manifest in God’s creative, redeeming, inclusive love for all, which draws us together, working and serving God’s kingdom.

Plot Twists and Hairpin Turns

Mark 8:27-38

          I’ve been reading a book lately that I have had such a hard time putting down – I finally, thankfully, finished it last night. The storyline has held me captive, especially in the last half of the book, as the plot has taken many twists and hairpin turns. It’s the kind of book where, even if you are not crazy about the storyline, you just have to know where it will end up. Do you know what I mean? So, this sermon may be a bit on the short side because, you know, I had a book I just had to attend to this week.

          Some of the best and most entertaining or captivating books and movies are the ones that have huge plot twists. These are the ones where you just don’t see that particular turn in the plot coming.

          You become fascinated by the unexpected –

                             or perhaps you are unnerved by it,

                                      and either way, you just have to reconcile the

tension that is created.

          Perhaps a major character is revealed to possess some personality flaw – like the fact that though you have grown to love them it is revealed that they really are a serial killer           or are otherwise leading a secret double life. They are just not the person you thought them to be.

          Or maybe tension in the storyline keeps you perched on   the edge of your seat, fingernails digging into the cushions because there are so many unexpected twists and turns that, like the book that I just finished, you just have to find out how it will end: people aren’t who they seem to be; their motives are false; there is a conspiracy underfoot that you misread of missed entirely.

          Something in the story keeps us coming back for more, however, even though we may not be necessarily crazy about the story itself.

          I feel a bit like that when I read the gospel of Mark.

          Now I know that some of you are probably thinking, “Really, Pastor Karen, the Gospel of Mark? (Maybe you should get a life!),” and you would be right. Or – “but we’ve heard these stories so many times, how could you be surprised by anything you read in this gospel?” And of course, you would be right there too, because the truth is that I have read this gospel many, many times.

          Yet as I contemplate its meaning at each reading, I still do find myself surprised, intrigued, often confused, and scratching my head – as I do with this text we read this morning.

          Along with the disciples, I find myself amazed and wanting to get at the heart of what in the world is going on as I observe the exchange that occurs between Peter and Jesus.

          This story marks the midway point in the narrative in this gospel of Mark. Jesus has been traveling throughout Galilee. Already there have been some minor twists here and there.  Jesus has been healing and driving away the demons and the crowds of people following him are growing. What could be better than that for a fledgling mission? But these actions and miracles also attract the attention of the leadership of the temple – and not in a good way. They set out to trap Jesus by various means.

          Jesus has been teaching his disciples and sends them out to do the same   and they bring back stories of great success in preaching, teaching and healing in his name. What teacher could ask for more? Yet at the same time, Jesus warns his followers to keep his works and even his identity to themselves – they mustn’t reveal too much too soon.

          Jesus has been performing works of wonder all around the region –yet things turn ugly when he returns to his own hometown of Nazareth, of all places - so that there, in that place, he can do little.

          In our gospel today, in a confession to Jesus, Peter speaks the words that we’ve all been waiting to hear. Because after all, we who are here, gathered together by the Holy Spirit as confessing Christians know who Jesus is. We have been waiting and watching and hoping that soon everyone will know who Jesus is, beginning with these first twelve disciples, and that the Good News of this revelation will cover the entire earth. Finally, Peter gets it!   Peter says the words we have been longing to hear. Words that I can imagine Jesus has been longing to hear.

          This disciple, with whom Jesus has a deep abiding relationship and friendship, responds to the question, “Who do you say that I am,” with the correct answer: “You are the Messiah,” Peter says.

          Now maybe Mark, who is notably short on words, who often cuts to the chase and seems to leave things out as a result, skips part of Jesus’ response to Peter in order to highlight what is surprising and important to him in this story. We don’t know for sure. But I find it frustrating that here, when someone finally gets it and states the truth about Jesus, the wonderful earth-shattering truth about our Savior, Jesus immediately tries to hush him up. Because what is Jesus response? It is not “good work, my good and faithful servant,” nor is it “High fives! Right answer Peter!” nor “Excellent deduction, my friend.” No. Jesus does none of these.

          Jesus sternly tells Peter and the other disciples not to tell anyone about him. It is not yet the time to let loose this information. Jesus then goes on to tell the disciples what is coming – that he, the Messiah, will – in fact must undergo horrific suffering and a torturous death. We go from high to low.

          Poor Peter. Poor disciples. Poor reader.

          We go from what seems like the greatest climax possible in this narrative - identifying the one we follow, the one we love, the one who has been teaching us, making us promises, calling and gathering us for godly work in the kingdom and we enter into the deepest hairpin turn of all, followed by a stomach clenching plunge into despair.

          Peter and his companions are likely picturing thrones and successful military campaigns and the overturning of the oppressive powers of the earth; they picture Jesus seated in earthly glory, they probably see themselves all as being part of a wonderful movement and kingdom in which Jesus is crowned and enthroned and worshiped and adored but they hear from his own lips shocking, shocking news. Jesus is going to be rejected. Jesus is going to be taken away in the most awful circumstance imaginable. He will be killed.

No – it’s actually unimaginable – what Jesus is saying.

          Can we blame Peter when he chastises Jesus? “Stop! Say no more!

It can’t be true, don’t tell us these things. It is not possible!”

          But Jesus is not finished teaching these disciples – and us – what his messiahship means. He is not finished describing how God’s love for humanity will require the greatest sacrifice from the Son.

          Jesus has much to teach these friends, these followers, these disciples, about what it means for the world that God sent the messiah to be born in human flesh, to dwell in human brokenness, and to raise those who are have been destroyed by sin and death into new life.

          The story suddenly slows down a bit. Jesus is now talking not only about how he will suffer and die, but how those who follow him, who serve him, will also know suffering; will also know pain; will also know mortal death – but will at the same time receive abundant everlasting life.

This is the mystery of life and faith, and it is the key to the kingdom of God.

          Frankly, I suspect most of us find our grasp of this message elusive most of the time. We have to admit that we find Peter’s definition of “messiah” the one we prefer as well. We consider ourselves “blessed” when we are successful, happy, healthy, prosperous, and enjoying the good life. We want a strong God, a God who heals our illnesses in ways we recognize, a God who provides ample prosperity, a God who guarantees our security, a God who ensures victory for our military (and perhaps our sports teams) and generally gives us the happily ever after we seek.

          What Jesus offers with all this cross-bearing talk and demands to “lose our life” is a plot-twist we didn’t see coming and one we have little understanding of.

          And yet, as the saying goes, we do not always get the God we want.

We get the God we need. Jesus points to a God who meets us in our vulnerability, suffering, and loss.

          God meets us in those moments of astonishing twists and turns in the storyline of our lives; those moments when we go from high to low in the moment the phone rings, or the test results come back, or the car is suddenly careening out of control.

          God meets us in the falling of buildings built with human hands, in the crashing down of cranes, in the storm and drought and fear of everyday life, the plot turns that permanently change the trajectory of our well-planned lives.

God meets us in those moments when all we have worked for,

          striven for

                   and hoped for

has fallen apart and we realize that the goal we thought we were headed for is not the goal within our grasp. God meets us in that pivotal moment of mortal need, when we realize that we are incapable of saving ourselves and desperately need a God who knows our every thought, our every breath, our every sin and failure, joy and triumph, and discover that God, our God, is already here – surrounding us with love, support, and comfort through the extraordinary means of a savior who has born the cross for us, and the simple means of friends and strangers who reach out in compassion for all who are in need.

          Among the twists and turns of the gospel is that God is here and present not only in the moments when we are most in need but also in the moments when we are most needed.

          For God is here when we pick up the cross of Christ and walk with others, discovering new purpose through the sharing of our own scarred and treasured hearts, when we serve the world, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, forgiving the despairing, sitting with the lonely, loving the forsaken, and sharing the cross – and love of Jesus. Amen.

Skip the Whitewashing - Let's Paint With Color

Mark 7:24-37

How often we strive to soften the edges of what we find uncomfortable.

I wonder: Have you ever found yourself trying to fix a story that casts someone you care about in a somewhat unflattering light? You describe the person in favorable terms, you paint them in glowing colors, you emphasize or even exaggerate their positive attributes, while minimizing their faults or ignoring them altogether.

Have you ever rearranged the details of a story to make the main actor – whether it is you or someone you know – a bit more sympathetic, a bit more palatable?

In Martin Luther’s explanation to the 8th commandment, the one about bearing false witness, Luther goes on to explain the spirit of the commandment this way: “we are to come to (our neighbor’s) defense, speak well of our neighbor, and interpret everything they do in the best possible light.”

The Woman of Canaan by Michael Angelo Immenraet,
 17th century

Well, if Martin Luther said it, then we must be on the right track when we whitewash certain – let us say – aspects of a person’s behavior – especially when that person is Jesus.

That is what we often do when we read gospel texts like the one we read this morning. We interpret Jesus’ shocking words and reaction to the Syrophoenician mother’s request in the best light possible.

By “dogs” surely Jesus was referring to cute little puppies, not to the fact that the woman was a Gentile nor suggesting that she was a morally inferior person.

Or, we make excuses for Jesus. He’s been traveling a lot. Surely, he’s hot and tired. After all Mark makes sure we know that Jesus was wanting to have some quiet time. Some down time, perhaps. He didn’t want anyone to know he was there in that house. So, the woman caught him at a bad time, in a bad place. Surely, cranky Jesus just needs a nap. He is human after all.

Better yet, we translate Jesus’ brush off as a test. It’s intentional. It is a teaching stratagem. Jesus was simply testing the woman and doing so in such a way as to pass along to his disciples something about the importance of faith, maybe even persistence in faith.

Jesus is the great teacher, after all. And that’s what teachers do. They teach; on the clock, and off the clock. As for the woman, it seems she passes the test.

Maybe all of these things do play a role in the emotional state of Jesus and in his response to the woman’s request. But I wonder if we don’t actually miss something important when we sweep this story and cranky Jesus under the rug.

Because frankly, while all of those explanations may serve to help us feel better about the words Jesus uses, no matter how you slice it, this story is still hard to understand and uncomfortable to read. It’s like a hunk of bread stuck in the throat, - a hunk that just doesn’t seem to want to go down.

Why is it that in that house in Tyre that day, Jesus seems so unkind, so dismissive, so discriminatory?

We are living in an age where we are particularly sensitive to the kind of name-calling we see here, - as well we should be. So a red flag goes up. We disparage this kind of derogatory labeling, we condemn it as just not acceptable. And we know about such labeling.

Truth be told we’ve probably engaged in it ourselves, whether in thought, word, or deed.

But lately, derogatory names, images and ideologies have become flash points for angry protest in our politically correct world. Think about all the signs of protest that have surrounded us lately:  #Blacklivesmatter; #alllivesmatter; #equalopportunityforall; and this one that I saw yesterday, “treating refugees as the problem is the problem.”

So, trying to make sense of Jesus referring to a desperate mother who comes to him pleading for relief from suffering for her young daughter as a dog is confusing and disconcerting.

Is it possible that Jesus himself really just had a lesson to learn, and that this woman helped him learn it?

My friends, context matters.

The gospel of Mark has been illustrating the tension building as background is laid for Jesus’ ministry, revealing, bit by bit, “God’s kingdom has been inaugurated, but is not yet fully realized…” Perhaps even Jesus himself does not yet fully understand the extent and radical nature of the kingdom he proclaims, which is nothing less than God’s far-reaching plan for history.

Jesus lives in a land that is deeply divided, where fellowship between Jews and Gentiles historically has been forbidden; where historically, the Jews of Gallilee have been oppressed and subjugated by foreign powers, even powers from the region of Tyre. Wheat from the Galilean fields, produced from the hard labor of Galilean farmers makes the bread that fills the baskets that sit on the tables of prosperous Tyreans, while many Jewish peasants go hungry.

As he tries to rest in the house in Tyre, a house which sits in Gentile territory, perhaps Jesus himself is still learning something that the woman pleads for and hopes for – that the mercies of God extend even now beyond the boundaries of ethnic Israel.

As we have collected the stories early in the gospel of Mark, they illustrate the growth of Jesus’ ministry – his authority in teaching and preaching being questioned and affirmed; all those miracles Jesus has performed – healing, casting out unclean spirits and demons; his feeding thousands of people with just a couple of    fish and a handful of loaves of bread; his walking on water - and we have grown in our understanding of Jesus as the Son of Man who has come into this world to transform lives and hearts.

Now it seems that Jesus’ mission must break down the boundaries observed throughout the centuries between God’s Chosen people of Israel, and the Gentiles.

In an episode just before this story, Jesus articulates a reorientation of the religious law and traditions, as he and his disciples argued with the Pharisees over the ceremonial practices and the social mores surrounding the consumption of food – mores that in fact create separation.

Jesus said that it is not what is on the outside of a person that defiles them but what is on the inside. What is in the heart of a person is then what really counts and is made evidence by their actions, the words they say – the things they do.

We don’t know what the woman thought about her own worthiness of God’s attention or Jesus’ time. But she demonstrated through her actions, absolute conviction that her beloved daughter was deserving of Jesus’ healing.

Whatever Jesus may have meant by his initial response to her in today’s gospel text, we know that one way to disarm criticism is to agree with the critic.

So the woman doesn’t express outrage at Jesus’ statement, nor does she argue with him. "I am a dog,” she agrees, “but even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters table."  In other words, perhaps, "I know I don't deserve a thing from you. I am no better than a dog in your world, but even dogs receive better treatment than you're giving me. Can't you spare a few crumbs of grace? I'm not asking for myself, but for my daughter."

This woman may not fully understand the nature of Jesus’ mission either, but for herself – for her daughter - her hope and her trust in Jesus is all she has and all that matters. And with a word, Jesus performs the healing she requests.

The change this encounter provoked within Jesus calls us to reflect on the power our own encounters with people who are ‘other’ can have on our own understanding of the Kingdom of God and who it includes. This woman teaches us about the power—and influence— encounters with strangers, ‘foreigners’, and newcomers can have. They can influence our own understanding of the limitlessness of God’s grace.

Folks we don’t yet know, people from different walks of life and backgrounds, and peoples of all nations have the ability to stretch our perspective, and teach us about ourselves, themselves, the world, and God. Jesus himself shows us the way to allowing our hearts and our actions be softened and swayed by the hope and the need of strangers.

We remember that each and every person on this earth, even those we don’t yet know, are created in God’s image, and therefore bear God’s image in the world.

While Jesus may have a change of heart in an instant, our hearts—at least my heart—tends to need a bit more work.

But, it is my hope, my trust, my experience, and God’s promise, that our encounters with the Gospel, and with Gospel-bearers who come to us as “the other”, do change us, little by little, more and more into Christ’s likeness.

Just as Jesus was changed by His encounter with the Syrophoenician woman, by the grace of God, these encounters with “the other” teach us about the radical nature of God’s love and grace.         

The Gospel is more than just a whitewashed image of Jesus as God’s promise to makes us feel better: The Gospel is an encounter that changes. It is the living Word of God through which God blesses us.

Through it and through the strangers and neighbors who challenge us by their otherness, may God grant us eyes, hearts, and minds open to transformation, that, more and more, we may understand and live the radical nature of God’s Kingdom, as we share God’s Good News of love and grace with all the world.