Mark 1:29-39

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

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

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

I have been wondering when or how or if I would ever find a way to tell you all about this thing I saw on HULU a couple of weeks ago. I call it a “thing” very deliberately, because I don’t know exactly how to describe it. It is a beautiful, compelling, experience of a “thing” – a piece of performance art, for sure. It is a series of stories told from one man’s perspective and also includes actual magic – card tricks, illusions, sleight-of-hand, kind of stuff – which is why I thought about it when I read about Jesus and this morning’s miracles and healings.

Anyway, this “thing” I’m talking about is called “In and of Itself,” and it was produced by Stephen Colbert and his wife, and created by Frank Oz – the master of The Muppets – and it was written and performed by some guy named Derek DelGaudio, who you’ve probably never heard of until now. And the thing about it all is that that’s about all I can tell you about this “thing,” this “show,” this “movie,” this “performance.” Because if I were to tell you any more I would spoil the magical, psychological, spiritual, mysterious experience of it and I don’t want to do that. So, consider this a pastoral public service announcement to give yourself 90 minutes – the whole 90 minutes – of uninterrupted time to see what I’m talking about. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. (If you are disappointed, I’ll beg your forgiveness later.)

But again, all of this – “In and of Itself” and the magic and the mystery of it all – had me thinking about Jesus and his miracles – about his curing the sick and casting out demons like he was wont to do. And it made me think about how we live as Christians in the world in relationship with and in reaction to these stories of Jesus and his mysterious, magical, miraculous ways.

Unfortunately, it seems we Christians sometimes feel like we have to pick a side and figure things out when it comes to such things. For some, whether you believe the magic of it all, or not, determines the strength or weakness of your faith. Maybe you buy it – hook, line, and sinker – the magic and the miracles of Jesus. Maybe you’re more cynical and skeptical and certain there’s a logical explanation to all of that. Maybe you’re somewhere in the middle – like me – and the strength of your faith in those miracles comes and goes, if you have to be perfectly honest.

Whatever the case, it seems clear Jesus didn’t want our faith to rest entirely on the presence of magic or in the practice of miracles. (He wouldn’t have asked people to keep his miracles and healings quiet, as he often did, if that were the case.) Of course, he didn’t want faith to be lost in the absence of that sort of mystery and miracle, either.

So, I like to think Jesus was as amazed and as surprised and maybe even a bit confused about what was happening to him and through him back in Galilee. He wasn’t a magician or a performer, after all, so I wonder if he expected that fever to leave Simon’s mother-in-law when he touched her. What if he was just trying to comfort his friend’s mother-in-law by taking her hand in his? And I wonder if he expected the demon to leave the possessed man we heard about last week when he spoke to him in the synagogue. What if he was just trying to offer a calming voice, and some comfort, to someone who was unsettled and unsettling to everyone around him?

I wonder if what everyone was calling “miracles” were just as curious and just as unexpected and just as awe-inspiring to Jesus himself, so that he was driven out to deserted places – like he was in this morning’s Gospel story. And I wonder if he was as skeptical or cynical or terrified and uncertain, perhaps, about what was happening that he just had to be alone to wonder and pray about what in the world God was doing with him.

Jesus never seems to be as consumed or as wrapped-up in or as concerned with how God was working miracles in the world like Simon and his companions, who hunted him down in this morning’s Gospel, might have been; or like “everyone” in Capernaum who was searching for Jesus that next day; or like we – so many generations later – still seem to be so consumed so much of the time. It seems to me we worry too much about WHO and HOW and not enough about WHY when it comes to Jesus and his miracles and the way these stories are told in the Bible.

See, more than miracles, more than healings, more than casting out demons, Jesus was about telling God’s story to whoever would hear it. He was about proclaiming and promising the love of God for all people. He was about sharing grace and mercy and compassion and good news. That is, after all, the message to be found in and through and because of every one of his miraculous acts of healing, I believe: the promise of forgiveness, the offering of compassion, the expression of mercy, the gift of new life.

What Jesus couldn’t wait to tell people is that we are loved and forgiven and welcomed in the face of our fevers and in spite of our fears; even though we have demons and diseases; and whether we’ve witnessed or received a miracle or not. That’s why he didn’t want to sit around Simon’s house. That’s what – I imagine – kept him up nights, what woke him early some mornings, what drove him out to pray in deserted places … and what inspired him to hit the road.

Jesus knew that his charge – that the call of every disciple and every one of his followers – was to get up and go out and to proclaim that message in synagogues, in homes, in marketplaces; at bedsides, to family and friend and neighbor and stranger…

Because for every fever that breaks – there’s one, somewhere, that doesn’t.

For every cure that comes – there’s another that will not.

For every demon that leaves or is quieted or cast out – there are legions that stick around and seem to win the day for too many.

And for my money, that’s why Jesus showed up – and why God calls us to show up – for the sake of the world, too: To care for the ones who don’t get the cure they’re after… To comfort the ones who are beset by burdens that never seem to get lifted… To be the answer to prayer for someone who would never expect such an answer to be shaped like you or me.

Which brings me back to that “thing” I told you about earlier – that show, that movie, that performance, whatever it is, called “In and of Itself,” on HULU. I don’t want to tell you too much more about it, not just because no one likes a spoiler but because it’s hard to explain and something you just have to see and experience to understand.

And the Good News of God’s love can be the same way. Which is why we’re called to speak of it, to share it, to become and to embody it – like Jesus did for our sake – so that others might know… and be blessed… and better… and loved in surprising, transforming, life-giving ways because of the grace we share.

That, in and of itself, is the stuff of miracles, if you ask me. And it’s holy work to which each of us is called in Jesus’ name for the sake of the world.

Amen

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).

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.