Cuba Christian Church
Rev. Amy Wharton
Job 1:1; 2:1-10
Psalm 26
Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12
Mark 10:2-16
“Embraced by Love”
I could tell stories about how my family members have been effected by divorce and remarriage or how children in my family have been hurt in separations or even might have benefitted from an earlier divorce than what happened. But I don’t have to tell those stories because you have similar stories in your lives and families. Couples separate and we’ve grieved the loss and brokenness of those situations, when they happen for seemingly good reason and when we understand the situations and when we don’t.
Divorce, remarriage, and adultery . . . they are not topics for the faint of heart. The Pharisees asked Jesus that question for exactly that reason, it was a good challenge. But it wasn’t just a matter of entrapment, as we may believe; it was and is a topic that needs to be discerned and considered with ethical, moral and compassionate conversation, concern and prayer. My sermon today is my attempt to explore these issues with some knowledge of biblical background. I don’t know that I can or want to tell you the right answers—just give you some things to think about. From the start, I will say that each person must and will make decisions about these issues, hopefully from the point of view of love and compassion.
In the context of the first testament of the bible, divorce meant a man sending away his wife—it was a privilege belonging only to men at that point in Jewish culture. Though in Roman society there may have been situations where women could divorce, Jesus’ audience that day knew that he was talking only about men. There are many varieties and examples of marriage and family within the biblical example—men married to many women at once, families that included concubines or women who were not married to men with whom they shared a bed. And we know stories of women who were married to several men over time, sometimes brothers.
We can read and understand that in the First Testament, that men were married to many women at the same time. Isaac was married to Rebekah, but his son Jacob or Israel was married to Leah, Rachel and their servants also produced sons for him, though he was not married to them. Divorce would have meant sending one away—he was married to them all at the same time.
The situation was different depending on gender. Jacob, though he was married to many women, was not guilty of adultery according to the law because he did not belong to one of them to the exclusion of the others. If his wives had gone to another man, however, they could have and would have been charged with adultery. And before Jesus’ birth, Joseph considered quietly putting away or divorcing his betrothed wife, Mary, away because of her pregnancy, supposed evidence of her guilt. Adultery, in our day and age, means sexual infidelity; adultery, in the bible, meant any act of disloyalty from a wife to her husband—a protection of male lineage.
The response to the questions, problems and crises surrounding human relationships are complex—and must be tempered by the love and compassion of God. Even if we have not been in the situation of divorce in our own relationships, we know what it means to be in broken relationships of all kinds. Conflicts between siblings are painful; sisters and brothers of all ages know very well how to fight with one another. Parents and adult children come to conflict on any number of important issues that can cause breaches lasting for years. Breaks in important relationships of all kinds cause pain that we’ve all experienced. It’s not the same as divorce within the relationship of a married couple, but brokenness of any kind causes pain and is inevitable among human beings.
What kinds of answers do we hear in the bible about these kinds of brokenness? What word does Jesus bring that sheds light on these perennial problems of humanity?
The gospel lesson reveals Jesus’ response of pain at the idea that divorce is a necessity for covenants made between two human beings. Yet, it seems that he realized that necessity—“because of your hardness of heart, Moses made it permissible.” When Jesus’ disciples asked him to say more about it, he actually expanded the possibility of divorce to women, though he held them to the high standard—if a man or a woman divorced and remarried then they would be committing adultery, leaving one for another.
In our reading of this text where Jesus quotes scripture, ““For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife,* 8and the two shall become one flesh;” we hear an ideal of humanity. Yet God, through Christ, as well as Moses realizes that we can honor the human journey with all its twists and turns, mistakes and triumphs, as one author put it.[1]
I heard a story this week about a marriage within a culture and nation that arranges marriages between the young people in families. One young couple knew one another for 3 weeks before marrying—and had just that time to get to know one another. After 4 children and 10 years in the United States, she divorced him for good reasons. He often flew into rages, was inconsiderate of what she needed in a relationship and she felt trapped. After a time, when neither of them found love in other places, he had been in treatment for emotional problems and she had grown as well. They decided to try again and after getting to know one another again, through counseling and dating for a full year, again got married or, one could argue, were really covenanted to one another for the first time. Not all arranged marriages are like this, but if divorce and separation are not an option for both parties in a marriage, each day a husband and wife must choose to keep the covenant, so that the covenant is valued each day.
The scripture today are about the complexities of life and how we embrace them with the compassion and mercy that God has shown us—that we have learned from the life and death of Jesus Christ. Jesus was strict about marriage and divorce because he saw some men behaving toward wives with hardness of heart—they had the option to divorce if some small thing displeased them and sometimes they did. Mercy and compassion were not always considered as a part of the question—but he made the covenant an over arching quality of those relationships. He described marriage that had a quality that wasn’t always seen in marriages where men and women were not considered equal partners.
To most of us and to the laws of the society in which we live, adultery is sexual infidelity—to be unfaithful physically, carnally, with someone other than the marriage partner. But adultery can be both more and less than that today. Adultery is putting a barrier between one’s self and a loved one in a way that is practically impossible to cross.
The second situation in the gospel text for today also describes love and the barriers we erect to channel or funnel love. Parents have brought children to this holy man to be blessed. Jesus seemed to welcome the intentions of the parents and welcomed the children, but the followers of Jesus wanted to direct Jesus’ love in particularly productive ways. But sometimes people simply need to be embraced—and to embrace love—to offer mercy and receive mercy—to offer compassion and to receive compassion.
Sadly, Mark reports how the disciples themselves tried to thwart the Lord’s compassionate, healing touch for children. Jesus indignantly told them that the eagerness to trust him, which was being shown by [caregivers] and children alike, was the kind of faith needed to gain a passport into his kingdom. The disciples’ antipathy was acting on the families much as the threat of deportation affects genuine asylum seekers. No wonder he was upset. (Mark 10: 13-15)[2]
The gospel text tells me about opening to real relationship—in marriage we honor the promises, the covenants that we have made even when we are tempted or rejected at times. We are called by Jesus to allow love to embrace us—real love extended by those who care, extended by God through Jesus. We are called by Jesus to be embraced by love so fully that we can reach out to others. We have to be made vulnerable and trust so that love can embrace us fully.
Divorce, remarriage and adultery . . . they are difficult things to discuss without great emotion and turmoil. Consider these with the heart as well as the mind; consider them with love.
Let’s embrace the love we have, given to us through the grace of God, revealed to us in Jesus Christ and in the relationships that are strengthened by the Spirit. Amen.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] Seasons of the Spirit, Congregational Life, Pentecost 2, August through November 2009
[2] http://admin.cmf.org.uk/pdf/helix/spr05/31comforting.pdf Janet Goodall is Emeritus Consultant Paediatrician in Stoke-on-Trent, Christian Medical Fellowship. Spring 2005. p. 16
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Sermon September 27 2009
Cuba Christian Church
Rev. Amy Wharton
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Psalm 124
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50
“Courage for Community”
Communities often have a spirit that identifies them. Large cities are usually made up of many communities, some separated by ancestry: a Czech community, for instance, or Bosnian or Welsh. Some communities are brought together by common work—the background isn’t what matters as much as the source of the means of support for families: mines or factories or mills or farms or universities or insurance companies.
Communities are often created within people of common purpose—the workers in a particular industry and the managers of those workers, though they live near one another, may participate in different communities. People may work, eat, worship and play in the vicinity of each other without being a community. Community often arises, instead, from other similarities, such as a common direction in life.
What draws people together and makes them willing to stand up with one another moving together toward some common purpose? What kind of motivation is needed to unite people?
Esther and Mordecai, as the book of Esther tells us, found that their people had been forced to choose between paying homage to God—the only God—and bowing down to the king of Persia. This act—forced upon the people by Haman, the king’s aide—made it possible for Haman to build a gallows upon which to begin executing the Jewish people—and to begin with Mordecai, followed shortly by Queen Esther, one assumes.
The story in today’s selection from Esther, as the rest of Esther, does not mention God. But this book does reveal the results of a community drawn together without common action—simply drawn together by common enemy who threatened to destroy their community and perhaps create a corruption that would destroy others as well.
As I write this, I wonder if we think it’s easier to create community out of common enmity instead of common hope and love. At first reading, I can hear that in the text from Esther. As the story in the book of Esther opens, Queen Vashti has been deposed in some way—the king was displeased with her and wanted another woman in his life. Esther is one of many candidates. She is powdered and primped and sent into the king’s rooms to please him. Her position is one created as a result of the overthrow of the current queen. As the story continues, Esther’s position of relative power is used by Mordecai and others to protect their vulnerable people—the Jewish people who were in exile. And when Haman’s plot is unfolded that protection is more necessary than every. In some sense this is community built out of enmity
Yet I also hear in Esther’s story that life is a unifying power. While the Jewish people were not happy about their lives in exile, it seems that they have made the best of their existence. Esther, Mordecai and others were participating in the society where they found themselves; they were thriving, building for the future and storing resources in hopes of the eventual return to their homeland. They didn’t completely dissolve into the majority culture, but simply took advantage of the good things they needed there. Their purpose was benefitting in each situation how they could while keeping their identity as Jewish people of faith. While the book of Esther never mentions God, their identity as Jews is dependent upon their faith in the God of their ancestors and holding onto the traditions of that faith.
And the first step toward maintain the traditions would have been to stay alive long enough to pass it on. That’s how important the desire for life is in this text. Life depends upon community strength and community is made up of living beings—the people who know God and carry on that relationship with God.
The exile in Babylon and then Persia, as the Babylonian empire was overtaken by the Persian Empire, was a defining moment for the people of the Jewish faith. They had been known as the Hebrew people before, now they were Jewish because their land had become Judea. They had seen their God, Yahweh, as their God—living in the land where Yahweh had led them to live. Yet God had stayed with them in exile, so they had to rethink their existence in relationship to God and the relationship of their land to God.
In their exile, they felt the presence of God. And the people who were left in Israel or Judea also felt the presence of God. This realization is what led them to act courageously on behalf of one another—the need for one another for the mere survival of the people of God. Esther acted courageously, not only on behalf of Mordecai, but for her whole people. She saved one man’s life directly and immediately and her people’s lives because the law promoted by Haman was destroyed as Haman’s position of power was removed from him.
The situation was risky and complex—she never knew until she asked if her request would have been granted. She and Mordecai worried that her life would have been forfeit along with all the other Jews in Persia, but it was the chance they took. It was enough to do the right thing because that righteous act was in the service of all the people of God.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Do and dare what is right, not swayed by the whim of the moment. Bravely take hold of the real, not dallying now with what might be. Not in the flight of ideas but only in action is freedom. Make up your mind and come out into the tempest of living. God’s command is enough and your faith in God to sustain you. Then at last freedom will welcome your spirit among great rejoicing.”[1]
Bonhoeffer was a German pastor during the rise of the Third Reich in Germany. He watched as some churches were corrupted and turned a blind eye to the violence visited upon the Jewish people in Germany.
Martin Niemöller expressed the times through his own eyes. Though he had been a supporter Hitler prior to his taking power, he broke with the Nazis by 1933. But inside I can imagine the genuineness of his thoughts and feelings as he spoke these words.
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
Between these two men of faith, we can hear the words that push us to respond when we see injustice—when we see actions that promote the dissolution of community standards of kindness, hope and joy. We can also hear that people of faith are not perfect examples. Niemöller had misconceptions of Hitler, but changed his mind when he heard the destructive words of the Nazi party and of Hitler himself.
Bonhoeffer might be lifted up as a model for unambiguous righteous opposition to the Nazis and Hitler himself. He was pursued by the government of the Third Reich from very early and came to the United States to escape, but soon returned to fight the fight that he believed God had called him to fight. Eventually he was arrested for participating in an assassination plot against Hitler, which he did, and executed for it. His dogged pursuit of writing, preaching, and plotting against injustice is admirable, in my eyes. Yet most of us fall somewhere along a spectrum of standing against injustice. We have been taken in by some along the way and come to realize our mistakes.
We often find ourselves in the midst of that poem by Niemöller. We look the other way and say “I am not a woman—I am not chronically ill—I am not a black man—I am not a child—I am not a felon. . .” We say I am not, until we realize that “I am a human being, so I must stand up.” Or we realize “I am a part of this wondrous web of creation and sustenance, so I must stand up.”
I often am in great awe at those whose lives have expressed such wonderful “Christ-like” actions, yet they do not embrace the Christ of faith that I have taken as my Lord and Savior. I have seen a Jewish mother and professor of New Testament stand up and bravely say to Christian pastors, “Unless you can imagine yourself preaching your sermon without reservation in the presence of my 12 year old child—unless, in the light of the Holocaust you can speak these words, reconsider your words. Don’t wait until it’s your child that feels threatened, imagine your words in the ears of my child.”[2] It took courage—and the pastors around me were taken aback by her statement, many disagreed, but I was impressed by her and her willingness to stand up for her community.
The words of Jesus are important to the world—no matter what each one believes. The actions that Jesus took to reveal his love and the love of God to all those who hear his words and the stories of his life reveal how important that love and the relationship within his community of disciples—as well as the relationships that we share with all of our companion human beings on this journey of life. We are all members of community—communities of geography: municipal, county, state and nation; communities of faith: Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, etc.; communities of association: Lions, Elks, Girls Scouts, Boy Scouts, choirs, bands, universities, colleges, teams, etc.
Yet within those communities we are always given the opportunity to express the values of the relationships that guide us as our more basic selves. In all of our relationship, what guides us more? Where are we given an opportunity to reveal Jesus in our actions, to preach that sermon with what we do, not what we say? Where will God give you a time to reveal your sermon of community and hope this week? Where will your courage make that possible?
In the gracious, understanding, free and flowing Spirit of God. Amen.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] From The Spiritual Formation Bible, New Revised Standard Version, copyright © 1999 by the Zondervan Corporation.
[2] Amy-Jill Levine, paraphrase, Festival of Homiletics, Chicago, 2000?
Rev. Amy Wharton
Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22
Psalm 124
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50
“Courage for Community”
Communities often have a spirit that identifies them. Large cities are usually made up of many communities, some separated by ancestry: a Czech community, for instance, or Bosnian or Welsh. Some communities are brought together by common work—the background isn’t what matters as much as the source of the means of support for families: mines or factories or mills or farms or universities or insurance companies.
Communities are often created within people of common purpose—the workers in a particular industry and the managers of those workers, though they live near one another, may participate in different communities. People may work, eat, worship and play in the vicinity of each other without being a community. Community often arises, instead, from other similarities, such as a common direction in life.
What draws people together and makes them willing to stand up with one another moving together toward some common purpose? What kind of motivation is needed to unite people?
Esther and Mordecai, as the book of Esther tells us, found that their people had been forced to choose between paying homage to God—the only God—and bowing down to the king of Persia. This act—forced upon the people by Haman, the king’s aide—made it possible for Haman to build a gallows upon which to begin executing the Jewish people—and to begin with Mordecai, followed shortly by Queen Esther, one assumes.
The story in today’s selection from Esther, as the rest of Esther, does not mention God. But this book does reveal the results of a community drawn together without common action—simply drawn together by common enemy who threatened to destroy their community and perhaps create a corruption that would destroy others as well.
As I write this, I wonder if we think it’s easier to create community out of common enmity instead of common hope and love. At first reading, I can hear that in the text from Esther. As the story in the book of Esther opens, Queen Vashti has been deposed in some way—the king was displeased with her and wanted another woman in his life. Esther is one of many candidates. She is powdered and primped and sent into the king’s rooms to please him. Her position is one created as a result of the overthrow of the current queen. As the story continues, Esther’s position of relative power is used by Mordecai and others to protect their vulnerable people—the Jewish people who were in exile. And when Haman’s plot is unfolded that protection is more necessary than every. In some sense this is community built out of enmity
Yet I also hear in Esther’s story that life is a unifying power. While the Jewish people were not happy about their lives in exile, it seems that they have made the best of their existence. Esther, Mordecai and others were participating in the society where they found themselves; they were thriving, building for the future and storing resources in hopes of the eventual return to their homeland. They didn’t completely dissolve into the majority culture, but simply took advantage of the good things they needed there. Their purpose was benefitting in each situation how they could while keeping their identity as Jewish people of faith. While the book of Esther never mentions God, their identity as Jews is dependent upon their faith in the God of their ancestors and holding onto the traditions of that faith.
And the first step toward maintain the traditions would have been to stay alive long enough to pass it on. That’s how important the desire for life is in this text. Life depends upon community strength and community is made up of living beings—the people who know God and carry on that relationship with God.
The exile in Babylon and then Persia, as the Babylonian empire was overtaken by the Persian Empire, was a defining moment for the people of the Jewish faith. They had been known as the Hebrew people before, now they were Jewish because their land had become Judea. They had seen their God, Yahweh, as their God—living in the land where Yahweh had led them to live. Yet God had stayed with them in exile, so they had to rethink their existence in relationship to God and the relationship of their land to God.
In their exile, they felt the presence of God. And the people who were left in Israel or Judea also felt the presence of God. This realization is what led them to act courageously on behalf of one another—the need for one another for the mere survival of the people of God. Esther acted courageously, not only on behalf of Mordecai, but for her whole people. She saved one man’s life directly and immediately and her people’s lives because the law promoted by Haman was destroyed as Haman’s position of power was removed from him.
The situation was risky and complex—she never knew until she asked if her request would have been granted. She and Mordecai worried that her life would have been forfeit along with all the other Jews in Persia, but it was the chance they took. It was enough to do the right thing because that righteous act was in the service of all the people of God.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Do and dare what is right, not swayed by the whim of the moment. Bravely take hold of the real, not dallying now with what might be. Not in the flight of ideas but only in action is freedom. Make up your mind and come out into the tempest of living. God’s command is enough and your faith in God to sustain you. Then at last freedom will welcome your spirit among great rejoicing.”[1]
Bonhoeffer was a German pastor during the rise of the Third Reich in Germany. He watched as some churches were corrupted and turned a blind eye to the violence visited upon the Jewish people in Germany.
Martin Niemöller expressed the times through his own eyes. Though he had been a supporter Hitler prior to his taking power, he broke with the Nazis by 1933. But inside I can imagine the genuineness of his thoughts and feelings as he spoke these words.
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
When they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
When they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
When they came for the Jews,
I remained silent;
I wasn't a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out.
Between these two men of faith, we can hear the words that push us to respond when we see injustice—when we see actions that promote the dissolution of community standards of kindness, hope and joy. We can also hear that people of faith are not perfect examples. Niemöller had misconceptions of Hitler, but changed his mind when he heard the destructive words of the Nazi party and of Hitler himself.
Bonhoeffer might be lifted up as a model for unambiguous righteous opposition to the Nazis and Hitler himself. He was pursued by the government of the Third Reich from very early and came to the United States to escape, but soon returned to fight the fight that he believed God had called him to fight. Eventually he was arrested for participating in an assassination plot against Hitler, which he did, and executed for it. His dogged pursuit of writing, preaching, and plotting against injustice is admirable, in my eyes. Yet most of us fall somewhere along a spectrum of standing against injustice. We have been taken in by some along the way and come to realize our mistakes.
We often find ourselves in the midst of that poem by Niemöller. We look the other way and say “I am not a woman—I am not chronically ill—I am not a black man—I am not a child—I am not a felon. . .” We say I am not, until we realize that “I am a human being, so I must stand up.” Or we realize “I am a part of this wondrous web of creation and sustenance, so I must stand up.”
I often am in great awe at those whose lives have expressed such wonderful “Christ-like” actions, yet they do not embrace the Christ of faith that I have taken as my Lord and Savior. I have seen a Jewish mother and professor of New Testament stand up and bravely say to Christian pastors, “Unless you can imagine yourself preaching your sermon without reservation in the presence of my 12 year old child—unless, in the light of the Holocaust you can speak these words, reconsider your words. Don’t wait until it’s your child that feels threatened, imagine your words in the ears of my child.”[2] It took courage—and the pastors around me were taken aback by her statement, many disagreed, but I was impressed by her and her willingness to stand up for her community.
The words of Jesus are important to the world—no matter what each one believes. The actions that Jesus took to reveal his love and the love of God to all those who hear his words and the stories of his life reveal how important that love and the relationship within his community of disciples—as well as the relationships that we share with all of our companion human beings on this journey of life. We are all members of community—communities of geography: municipal, county, state and nation; communities of faith: Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, etc.; communities of association: Lions, Elks, Girls Scouts, Boy Scouts, choirs, bands, universities, colleges, teams, etc.
Yet within those communities we are always given the opportunity to express the values of the relationships that guide us as our more basic selves. In all of our relationship, what guides us more? Where are we given an opportunity to reveal Jesus in our actions, to preach that sermon with what we do, not what we say? Where will God give you a time to reveal your sermon of community and hope this week? Where will your courage make that possible?
In the gracious, understanding, free and flowing Spirit of God. Amen.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
[1] From The Spiritual Formation Bible, New Revised Standard Version, copyright © 1999 by the Zondervan Corporation.
[2] Amy-Jill Levine, paraphrase, Festival of Homiletics, Chicago, 2000?
Sermon September 20 2009
Cuba Christian Church
Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37
“The Paradox of Humility”
For years, servanthood ministry has been a term for the kind of service and ministry that we do for one another as Christians—and it’s a good term. But sometimes, servanthood and leadership combined makes servanthood showy or conceited. For example, a person I knew many years ago who was in leadership within our denomination borrowed the words and symbols that pointed to servanthood, but seemed to carry that servanthood as a mantle of glory. In other words, that person’s humility became a place and time for boasting.
Instead, perhaps we can practice a humility of friendship—egalitarian servanthood rather than hierarchical servanthood. People in relationship serve one another—not because one has more or less resources—or is respected more or less. We serve because we are all the same on the inside—created by God in God’s own image.
Mark’s gospel was written—and Jesus taught—within a society of incredibly strict social hierarchies. These power relationships were seen as permanent—unchangeable. Romans had more power than Jews, unless they were inside the temple itself. Men had more power than women, whose status was based on their husbands or fathers. Children and slaves had little to no power and could be killed without penalty in most cases. Each had very little real worth—though they were obviously loved within family relationships. An egalitarian relationship was rare because most people had differing status even within close relationships. When Jesus said his life would be forfeit and then brought a child to their attention as a model of personhood, he was striking at the very heart of their understanding of power.
Teachers and leaders like Jesus were supposed to wield power in an obvious way—holding authority like a sword or scepter of a king. Even though they recognized Jesus’ power, it was often difficult for the disciples to really understand what it was that he was doing with it. Yet Jesus was different—he used his power to uplift others rather than rule them. He had confidence in the power of God, so that he didn’t have to defend it or prove it, he simply relied upon it.
The gospel text today begins with Jesus’ second affirmation of his death and his resurrection. He stated it plainly, “Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” But such confidence in his own submission and God’s power was so outside of the normal way of doing things that Jesus’ disciples continued to be confused by it.
We look back at those disciples and wonder that they didn’t trust Jesus’ obedience even to death and submission to God’s purpose for him, but I don’t think we understand that kind of humility any better than they did. We may have a clearer idea of equality in our society, but humility has never been the way of the western world.
Humility, in my mind, is becoming so accustomed to serving others that we do it naturally, without thought. However, we have to realize that serving others takes time to become a habit in most cases. And we have to realize that that service is not to be coerced—it is not a matter of fear, but a matter of power given to another.
Humility comes from the choice to be humble—humility is not require of someone without the opportunity to choose. It’s a paradox. We are called to humility—and we are called to empower those without power so that each one can choose humility and service for oneself.
There are people all around us who have no voice—some of us feel that kind of powerlessness at times. And there are times when those who have no voice to speak need to be given the power and the voice so that we can hear about humility.
When the gospel of Mark was written, the Roman Empire was the cultural power of the world. The structure and government of the Romans was the tool by which most of the western world was ruled; the disciples and Jesus’ followers within the Roman world were powerless in the face of the Empire. The message of humility was given to people who may not have had power over their surroundings, but needed humility in the midst of day to day relationships. They needed to realize that with power came the responsibility not to destroy people using it. At times in Jesus’ teaching he reminds them of this, but it takes a long time to understand. Human beings often have to live that kind of humility and understanding a long time before they can really live it.
Jesus explained that people who had power were going to arrest and kill him—and that he would come out on the other side of death. That death was not the irreversible defeat it was assumed to be. He was trying to show them that God was still God of all, even death. Their conversation revealed their misunderstanding.
He first told them, “I will live this message of God, revealing my love for all creation to the point of inevitable death. I will show you that my love is not overcome by death.” And then they turn around and argue about who was the greatest among them. He said, “I will be your salvation because I will die and you fight and argue over status and power? I will live the mission that God gives me even though God and I both know it will be violently rejected and you wonder who has more status in the kingdom of God? Listen to me and watch what I do.
“I serve others. I heal their wounds and take away their illnesses. I absorb their brokenness and give them wholeness. I take what you have called impurity and uncleanness and give them a status within their relationships again. Every moment I choose to follow the mission I have been given. Yet you think that one of you will be great and rule over the others.
“If you have no more worth and status in society than this child, then you can count on greatness. . . if you follow God’s mission to you expecting no more than death, as I do, then you are one of the kingdom. If you realize that kingdom doesn’t mean ease of living or power over anyone, then you might be seeing it in small part.
Even today misunderstanding is often the case. We are told that unless we take power, wealth, status or praise, none will be given. Yet in scripture after scripture, God resists that kind of power—power over others instead of the humility of power shared among equals.
Honestly, I have watched this church reveal that kind of understanding over the years in many ways—we aren’t perfect, but it has been done in some amazing ways. That doesn’t mean that we are wealthy or powerful or have a guarantee of success, the reward for humility is knowing that humility is God’s will.
We have refused, at times, and maybe without conscious realization that the approval of the community is not a good way to make a decision. We have gone ahead with our choices for leadership at times when there were murmurs from other quarters about those who lead us. We don’t always speak clearly of our choices—we humbly continue on about the journey.
And we aren’t perfect about our humility—but I think that’s important, too, because it helps us understand what we need to stand up and say and when we need to simply stand and let our actions speak for us. Humility sometimes means being misunderstood—as I’m sure Jesus could have told us as he heard his disciples speak of power and greatness even as he contemplated the results of his own obedience to the mission that God had given him.
Whenever we bring people to the center of influence that we hadn’t formerly listened to: in church, in other times and places, like family conversations or in work situations, then we embrace humility. When we acknowledge that within our relationships as a mother or father, grandmother or grandfather, teacher, preacher, husband, wife, adult or grown child that we don’t know all the answers and can listen and act on others’ words or wisdom, we embrace humility. As adults, we can listen to children. As teachers, we can hear what students are saying in bits and pieces through action and conversation. As parents, we can hear what children of different ages say and do, truly taking it seriously, realizing our mutual humanity. As husbands and wives, we can look to one another with respectful recognition of one another’s actions—knowing we are equal partners, though not exactly the same. And as a pastor, I can recognize real humility and try to live up to the examples I see.
A faithful life, as Jesus lived it, meant embracing the paradox of God’s own wisdom as God released humanity to live in relationship with one another. God taught and spoke through many people, who were imperfect and sometimes not so humble. God walked in the life of Jesus in completion, showing us that humility wasn’t about being ashamed of who we are as woman or man, husband or wife, adult or child—but embracing what God has made us to be and living it within God’s will, not more or no less.
We are called to be humble—yet be all that God has created us to be. As the epistle to James teaches, we are called to live the kindness that comes from wisdom, not allowing abuse toward us or another, but healthy humility, not more than we are, but certainly not any less. We are called to be humble within the purpose and mission that God calls us to live—not to be humiliated because another wants power.
Jesus’ triumph over humiliation and abuse to the point of death reveals that that is not God’s will—that death is to be defeated by life given as a gift of God.
Let us take the voice of purpose that we are given—let us live the life of intentional kindness and gentleness that God gives—not because we are no better than slaves, but because we are called to take our places within the kingdom of God as servants because that is the high and humble place to which we have all been called as disciples of Jesus Christ.
In the name of God: Author of life, Redeemer from death, Sustainer of living. Amen.
Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37
“The Paradox of Humility”
For years, servanthood ministry has been a term for the kind of service and ministry that we do for one another as Christians—and it’s a good term. But sometimes, servanthood and leadership combined makes servanthood showy or conceited. For example, a person I knew many years ago who was in leadership within our denomination borrowed the words and symbols that pointed to servanthood, but seemed to carry that servanthood as a mantle of glory. In other words, that person’s humility became a place and time for boasting.
Instead, perhaps we can practice a humility of friendship—egalitarian servanthood rather than hierarchical servanthood. People in relationship serve one another—not because one has more or less resources—or is respected more or less. We serve because we are all the same on the inside—created by God in God’s own image.
Mark’s gospel was written—and Jesus taught—within a society of incredibly strict social hierarchies. These power relationships were seen as permanent—unchangeable. Romans had more power than Jews, unless they were inside the temple itself. Men had more power than women, whose status was based on their husbands or fathers. Children and slaves had little to no power and could be killed without penalty in most cases. Each had very little real worth—though they were obviously loved within family relationships. An egalitarian relationship was rare because most people had differing status even within close relationships. When Jesus said his life would be forfeit and then brought a child to their attention as a model of personhood, he was striking at the very heart of their understanding of power.
Teachers and leaders like Jesus were supposed to wield power in an obvious way—holding authority like a sword or scepter of a king. Even though they recognized Jesus’ power, it was often difficult for the disciples to really understand what it was that he was doing with it. Yet Jesus was different—he used his power to uplift others rather than rule them. He had confidence in the power of God, so that he didn’t have to defend it or prove it, he simply relied upon it.
The gospel text today begins with Jesus’ second affirmation of his death and his resurrection. He stated it plainly, “Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” But such confidence in his own submission and God’s power was so outside of the normal way of doing things that Jesus’ disciples continued to be confused by it.
We look back at those disciples and wonder that they didn’t trust Jesus’ obedience even to death and submission to God’s purpose for him, but I don’t think we understand that kind of humility any better than they did. We may have a clearer idea of equality in our society, but humility has never been the way of the western world.
Humility, in my mind, is becoming so accustomed to serving others that we do it naturally, without thought. However, we have to realize that serving others takes time to become a habit in most cases. And we have to realize that that service is not to be coerced—it is not a matter of fear, but a matter of power given to another.
Humility comes from the choice to be humble—humility is not require of someone without the opportunity to choose. It’s a paradox. We are called to humility—and we are called to empower those without power so that each one can choose humility and service for oneself.
There are people all around us who have no voice—some of us feel that kind of powerlessness at times. And there are times when those who have no voice to speak need to be given the power and the voice so that we can hear about humility.
When the gospel of Mark was written, the Roman Empire was the cultural power of the world. The structure and government of the Romans was the tool by which most of the western world was ruled; the disciples and Jesus’ followers within the Roman world were powerless in the face of the Empire. The message of humility was given to people who may not have had power over their surroundings, but needed humility in the midst of day to day relationships. They needed to realize that with power came the responsibility not to destroy people using it. At times in Jesus’ teaching he reminds them of this, but it takes a long time to understand. Human beings often have to live that kind of humility and understanding a long time before they can really live it.
Jesus explained that people who had power were going to arrest and kill him—and that he would come out on the other side of death. That death was not the irreversible defeat it was assumed to be. He was trying to show them that God was still God of all, even death. Their conversation revealed their misunderstanding.
He first told them, “I will live this message of God, revealing my love for all creation to the point of inevitable death. I will show you that my love is not overcome by death.” And then they turn around and argue about who was the greatest among them. He said, “I will be your salvation because I will die and you fight and argue over status and power? I will live the mission that God gives me even though God and I both know it will be violently rejected and you wonder who has more status in the kingdom of God? Listen to me and watch what I do.
“I serve others. I heal their wounds and take away their illnesses. I absorb their brokenness and give them wholeness. I take what you have called impurity and uncleanness and give them a status within their relationships again. Every moment I choose to follow the mission I have been given. Yet you think that one of you will be great and rule over the others.
“If you have no more worth and status in society than this child, then you can count on greatness. . . if you follow God’s mission to you expecting no more than death, as I do, then you are one of the kingdom. If you realize that kingdom doesn’t mean ease of living or power over anyone, then you might be seeing it in small part.
Even today misunderstanding is often the case. We are told that unless we take power, wealth, status or praise, none will be given. Yet in scripture after scripture, God resists that kind of power—power over others instead of the humility of power shared among equals.
Honestly, I have watched this church reveal that kind of understanding over the years in many ways—we aren’t perfect, but it has been done in some amazing ways. That doesn’t mean that we are wealthy or powerful or have a guarantee of success, the reward for humility is knowing that humility is God’s will.
We have refused, at times, and maybe without conscious realization that the approval of the community is not a good way to make a decision. We have gone ahead with our choices for leadership at times when there were murmurs from other quarters about those who lead us. We don’t always speak clearly of our choices—we humbly continue on about the journey.
And we aren’t perfect about our humility—but I think that’s important, too, because it helps us understand what we need to stand up and say and when we need to simply stand and let our actions speak for us. Humility sometimes means being misunderstood—as I’m sure Jesus could have told us as he heard his disciples speak of power and greatness even as he contemplated the results of his own obedience to the mission that God had given him.
Whenever we bring people to the center of influence that we hadn’t formerly listened to: in church, in other times and places, like family conversations or in work situations, then we embrace humility. When we acknowledge that within our relationships as a mother or father, grandmother or grandfather, teacher, preacher, husband, wife, adult or grown child that we don’t know all the answers and can listen and act on others’ words or wisdom, we embrace humility. As adults, we can listen to children. As teachers, we can hear what students are saying in bits and pieces through action and conversation. As parents, we can hear what children of different ages say and do, truly taking it seriously, realizing our mutual humanity. As husbands and wives, we can look to one another with respectful recognition of one another’s actions—knowing we are equal partners, though not exactly the same. And as a pastor, I can recognize real humility and try to live up to the examples I see.
A faithful life, as Jesus lived it, meant embracing the paradox of God’s own wisdom as God released humanity to live in relationship with one another. God taught and spoke through many people, who were imperfect and sometimes not so humble. God walked in the life of Jesus in completion, showing us that humility wasn’t about being ashamed of who we are as woman or man, husband or wife, adult or child—but embracing what God has made us to be and living it within God’s will, not more or no less.
We are called to be humble—yet be all that God has created us to be. As the epistle to James teaches, we are called to live the kindness that comes from wisdom, not allowing abuse toward us or another, but healthy humility, not more than we are, but certainly not any less. We are called to be humble within the purpose and mission that God calls us to live—not to be humiliated because another wants power.
Jesus’ triumph over humiliation and abuse to the point of death reveals that that is not God’s will—that death is to be defeated by life given as a gift of God.
Let us take the voice of purpose that we are given—let us live the life of intentional kindness and gentleness that God gives—not because we are no better than slaves, but because we are called to take our places within the kingdom of God as servants because that is the high and humble place to which we have all been called as disciples of Jesus Christ.
In the name of God: Author of life, Redeemer from death, Sustainer of living. Amen.
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