Messages, Meditations, and Musings on the Life of Faith by Rev. Dr. Scott E. Olson, Interim Pastor, Our Savior's Lutheran Church, Faribault MN

Sunday, January 31, 2016

"Divine Doggedness" - Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

Divine Doggedness
Epiphany 4 – Narrative Lectionary 2
Grace, Mankato, MN
January 31, 2016
Mark 6.1-29

We have three seemingly unrelated stories today, but Mark has presented us another “sandwich” for us to sample. The stories of Jesus’ homecoming reception and the beheading of John the Baptizer portray negative receptions to Jesus and the message of the kingdom, all wrapped around the mission of the twelve disciples who are sent out to preach the very same thing. Let’s take a few moments each to look at the stories, what they might say to us and then tie them together.

After winding up a successful road trip where he’s cast out a demon, healed a woman with a flow of blood and raised a girl from the dead, Jesus arrives home to what could be charitably described as mixed reaction. The astonishment of the townspeople quickly moves to offense; the original language for “offense” means they are literally scandalized by Jesus and his message. In essence, what we have is an ironic “un-miracle story.” Why are they scandalized by Jesus and his message? First, they know (or think they know) about Jesus’ questionable paternity. Was Joseph really his father or someone else? Second, it was because of his vocation as a carpenter. They couldn’t see how a tradesman could be so wise and learned. Finally, and worst of all, they were offended because of their familiarity with him. All in all, these hindered their openness to who Jesus is and what he has come to do.

I get it. I have to admit that I’ve always been leery of reunions, mostly because I’ve been away from home so long and lost touch with so many people. I’ve not attended any college reunions and only a few high school reunions. Those I have attended have been difficult for me. It’s similar to how I’ve come up with this definition of family: those who knew you before you became the person you are now, and don’t let you forget it. Interestingly, the dynamic has been reversed for some people when I became a pastor: sometimes they also expect too much of me. I think this story is another warning that we may think we know Jesus (and others) but we probably don’t.

Yet, when we touch the past but are open to the present, great things can happen. This last August I attended a “mini-reunion” of a few of my buddies from high school. We hadn’t all been together for decades. I was nervous, because I thought we might relapse into some of the behavior patterns from long ago. However, I was please to see that, although we traded memories we also opened up to each other about our struggles and blessings along the way. It was a rewarding afternoon of deep sharing.

So Jesus and his followers shake the dust from their feet and move on. Jesus changes up the game plan, takes them off the bench thrusts them into the action. Jesus sends them out, two by two, to do what he has been doing: teaching, preaching, and healing. In a disconcerting fashion, he sends them without the proper equipment and I can imagine the whining that comes from them.

The reason I can imagine the whining is that I’ve lived it. During seminary, we are required to complete unit of Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE), which involves learning to give pastoral care in a clinical setting, such as hospital or nursing home. I chose to do CPE in a nursing home because I had little experience with older people. The first day of CPE, after an all too brief orientation, the supervisor, Jim Winjum, sent us out to start meeting the residents. I was paralyzed with fear. That’s what I was there to learn and Jim just through me to the wolves. He was supposed to equip me.

Well, we had conversations about that and Jim explained to me that he trusted the seminary had done sufficient work to screen us and know we had what it took. I learned through that experience and others that Jesus gives us everything we need. I learned that I don’t bring God anyplace because God is already there. I learned that God does the heavy lifting and works in ways I can’t always see. And I’ve also learned that for some crazy reason God invites us to be a part of this process and join in the kingdom work.

Just when things start looking up Jesus and the kingdom mission, we get a sobering reminder that the gospel is not good news for all. So now to the beheading of John the Baptist: a story that rivals anything in real or imaginary life. Abuses of power run rampant in our world, and those who blow whistles often have them shoved down their throats. Having one’s head handed to them is not just a figure of speech. Mark wants us to be honest about life, that this is the way of the world. But Mark also wants us to know that it’s not all there is. The death of John the Baptizer by manipulated powers foreshadows Jesus’ death in the same way. Mark wants us to know that this is corrupt world is the same world that God gave himself for. It’s a world that God loves deeply and is doggedly determined to make better.

I couldn’t help making connections between these texts and our annual meeting today (not that I expect any beheadings). As we talk about mission and ministry in the meeting, can we open ourselves to seeing Jesus in unexpected ways? Can we not assume that we know what God is up to? Can we rely on God, realizing God isn’t looking for perfect people, but rather those willing to trust? Can we be assured that God will give us what we need while inviting us to kingdom work? Can we see that God wants more for us than survival? Can we see that there is more than persistence or even success? And can we see that the “more” God wants for us is abundant life, life that is more than we can possibly imagine? I believe in our mission statement, that through God’s abundant love, we will indeed live and work to serve others. Amen.

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