Epiphany

Ornery Jesus & Good Trouble

Mark 1:21-28

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


A friend of mine from college had an interesting way of filling his free time: he would climb up the exteriors of various buildings on campus. This all happened at Valparaiso University, so one of his climbing adventures took place on this building: the 60’-high Chapel of the Resurrection (see image below).

VU_Chapel.jpg

His attitude towards life was engaging, fresh, and often quite different from mine. I rode a bike, always with a helmet firmly attached; he had a skateboard. I played cards and video games; he came up with crazy pranks to pull off on campus. I was concerned about following the rules; he pushed boundaries. I kept my feet firmly on the ground; he...did not. Well, I kept my feet firmly on the ground until the day I finally went with him to climb a building on campus. I didn’t attempt it until our senior year. In all reality, it was little more than an attempt to impress the girl I had recently started dating. We all made it up to the roof and back down without falling and breaking any bones. And she must have been impressed because we kept dating and eventually married.

I asked my friend if he was ok with me talking about him and his campus climbing adventures for my sermon illustration. He joked that he wasn’t aware of the story of Jesus climbing the temple. However, I reminded him there is a story about Jesus climbing the temple. It’s found in Luke 4:9, which reads: “The devil...placed [Jesus] on the pinnacle of the temple.” It all makes sense now...the devil made him do it!

I’m not advocating for anyone to go scale the facades of buildings. That’s not exactly what inspires me about him. I am inspired by his impulse to push against rules, norms, and expectations in order to serve others. This same friend graduated and went down to Guatemala to work with people who lived in landfills. That takes a serious boundary-pushing impulse.

I hope you are blessed with a friend like this; someone who helps you see new possibilities. A friend like this keeps you on your toes. A friend like this helps you understand that some rules are made to be broken.

In this way, my friend modeled an aspect of Jesus’ life that is often overlooked by Christian churches in the West today: Jesus was ornery. This is evident in the miracles he performed, the wisdom he taught, the friends he made, the freedom with which he lived his life, and the way he understood and related to God. All of it clashed against the customs and rules of his time.

Ornery Jesus reserved his most radical and controversial actions for the Sabbath day–the day no work was to be done. I imagine Jesus was pretty low key throughout the week, but as soon as the sun goes down on a Friday night, Jesus would get a look in his eye that suggested he was ready to break some rules...because some rules are made to be broken.

In the gospel story for today, Jesus is teaching in the synagogue on the Sabbath. He’s not teaching like everyone else teaches...this guy is impressive! He’s engaging, authoritative, and exciting. He’s pushing boundaries. He’s the skateboard-riding, thrill-seeking, excels-at-everything guy captivating a room full of rule-followers wearing safety glasses, pocket protectors, and bike helmets...or whatever the equivalent was 2,000 years ago.

He is addressing an assembly of people whose power is perfectly preserved by the rules they impose and enforce. But here they are, eating up Jesus’ every word. They begin to see that the rules should ensure that all people thrive. Maybe someone other than a priest can forgive someone’s sins in God’s name. Maybe people should be allowed to be healed on a Sabbath day. Maybe sinners, tax collectors, and prostitutes are worthy companions with whom to sit down and break bread.

And then someone in the assembly recognizes what Jesus is doing and calls him out on it. “I know who you are. You will destroy us!” Scripture says this is the voice of an “unclean spirit.”

The unclean spirit has found a compatible host in this religious man preoccupied with his own power. This unclean spirit is threatened by anyone suggesting there is a life to be lived beyond the rules, regulations, and structures that preserve the power and privilege of the elite. The voice insists what matters in life is to follow the rules so that you can keep your cupboards and treasure chests full, even if those same rules mean others are denied their fair share.

Jesus does not sit quietly and listen to the concerns of the unclean spirit. He does not allow the voice of lies, deceit, and unbelief to utter another single word. He has no time to waste rationalizing with such narrow-mindedness. Instead, Jesus commands this unclean spirit to be silenced and remove itself from the man. It does. All are amazed.

I like to think that all those who witnessed this event in the synagogue that Sabbath day left feeling free and emboldened to push the limits of society, ready to treat people with more respect and compassion than they had before. However, there were some whose hearts were hardened against the new gospel they were hearing and witnessing with their own eyes. They saw Jesus as an ornery rule-breaker. And when your identity, value, and salvation is tied up in maintaining the rules even if those rules oppress others, then ornery rule-breakers must be stopped at any cost. These men would conspire with other powerful people to rid themselves of this rebellious Jesus once and for all. They would, of course, fail.

Fortunately for human civilization, history is full of examples of people who have been in touch with the rebellious nature of the universal Christ and have gotten into “good trouble,” as the late Georgia Representative John Lewis liked to refer to it. John Lewis, leading the crowd of black southerners across the Edmund Pettus bridge to register to vote. Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, raising the world’s awareness of the sin of apartheid in South Africa. Malala Yousafzai, shot in the head for demanding girls be given the right to be educated in Taliban-occupied Pakistan, only to survive and find an even louder voice. These are just a few of the stories most of us know well. But each day there are people who challenge rules and assumptions that only serve to preserve the power of the privileged. They get into good trouble.

God did not send Jesus into the world to sanction our worldly preoccupation with preserving our sense of power and privilege. God sent Jesus into the world to expose the sin of humankind, teach us a more beautiful way for all people, and remind us that we are forgiven even when we fail to follow that more beautiful way. In the coming days and weeks, I encourage you to get to know ornery Jesus. Ornery Jesus calls out injustice. Ornery Jesus calls out the unclean spirits that tell us our salvation lies in our power and privilege. Ornery Jesus looks at an obstacle as intimidating as a 60’ brick wall and says, “We can make it up there.”

Amen.

The True Power of God's Love

Mark 1:4-11

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

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


On Wednesday we all witnessed a historic, unprecedented, and horrific event as fellow American citizens stormed the US Capitol building in a deadly attempt to thwart democracy. 

Also on Wednesday, the Western Christian church entered the liturgical season of Epiphany – a season dedicated to the idea that God’s presence and goodness is being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth. Light, in the midst of darkness. Order out of chaos.

The gospel text for the day of the Epiphany of our Lord this past Wednesday was the story of the magi presenting themselves and their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to the Holy Family. Their journey takes place under the orders and watchful gaze of an arrogant and entitled ruler who has received word that his political power will come to an end due to the birth of a new king. Herod’s solution to the threat of his power being taken away is a violent one: he has every male infant in the region murdered. He himself does not carry out the violence, but he entrusts his followers to use whatever violent means they see fit in order to accomplish this goal. They oblige. 

The wise men, upon finding the Christ Child, do not return to Herod with news of the child’s location, but instead went home by another road – a beautiful and brilliant act of nonviolent resistance. The magi, those “wise” men, did their part to disengage from a pattern of destruction and take some violence out of circulation – a brave decision with history-altering ramifications. 

The season of Epiphany begins with a warning about the horrific lengths that individuals intoxicated by worldly power will undertake when that power is threatened. The season also begins with the acknowledgment that nonviolence is the foundation of God’s kingdom.

The next Epiphany story – the next story about God’s presence and goodness being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth – is what we heard today. John the Baptizer is calling people to repent – to do a 180-degree about-face with their lives – in order to be ready for the coming of salvation. 

One among the crowd heeds the invitation and completely submerges in the cleansing waters of baptism. “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” His life would go on to prove that being loved by God is the true power of the universe and that love cannot be taken away.

I don’t remember my baptism, but I know without a doubt that water was poured over my head along with the declaration that God loves me. If you have been baptized, then you too have heard the words of God’s love for you. If you have witnessed the community gathered around the baptismal font and applauded as the baby, teen, or adult was presented to the community, then you have been reminded of the unique way that God’s love is expressed over and over again as those water drops fall off the forehead and return to the font. If you have experienced the pronouncement of God’s love for you, then you have within you the most powerful thing in the world and it is power that cannot be taken away.

Two Epiphany stories of two powerful men. Two totally different ways of reacting to God’s presence and offer of salvation. Herod was horrified; Jesus was humbled. Both were loved by God, but only one knew that God’s love was sufficient...that God’s love is the most powerful thing in the world and it is power that cannot be taken away.

World history is replete with stories of men who reacted violently when their worldly power and positions of privilege were threatened. The pages of scripture tell of scores of rulers, even God-fearing ones, who sought to preserve their power at all costs, even when it meant engaging in violence. Herod is simply one among many. 

But we don’t worship the leaders who react violently when their positions of power and privilege are threatened. Instead, what unites us is our worship and adoration of the one who was humble enough to be washed, who rejected worldly power and false idols, who identified with society’s outcasts and gave them hope. 

We worship the one who was executed by the violent power-hungry rulers and structures of the world. And we worship the one who rose from the dead, proving once and for all the complete futility of worldly power. 

Why, then, was Christian imagery referencing the prince of peace and the God of love found on the flags, clothes, signs, and lips of those who stormed the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday...those who express the sentiment that their worldly power and privilege is being stripped away? Why would the baptized and beloved of God resort to violence (or at least be a part of the mob that put others in harm’s way)?

As a representative of Christ’s church I have to publicly condemn not just their actions but the theology that contributed to their sense of right and wrong because it has more to do with Herod than Jesus. 

Many Americans (though, sadly, not all) were quick to condemn the violence and lawbreaking that unfolded in our nation’s capital on Wednesday. However, those who participated in the insurgency are not the only elements that are to be condemned. As an assembly of people who profess to follow Christ above all else, we must all take the time to reflect on the ways in which we, too, are prone to react with violence when we feel that our power and privilege is being threatened. This is what it means to remember our baptism – to daily put to death that which seeks to displace God in our lives and daily to rise to new life as we focus on God alone.

The events of this week and the lives that were lost demand that each and every one of us take an honest look at how our actions are contributing to the violence that seems so readily-accessible today. In what ways do we feel our worldly power slipping away? To what lengths are we willing to go to prevent that from happening? And if our honest answer to that question scares us, we can remember our baptism and our belovedness. We can repent and return home by another way.

These are the early days of Epiphany. God’s presence and goodness is being unveiled, revealed, shown to the nations of the earth. Light, in the midst of darkness. Order out of chaos. We keep watch together. We keep watch over one another. And we do all we can to remind one another of our belovedness. That is the true power that cannot be taken away. 

Amen.