The Foolishness of Holy Wisdom

Third Sunday in Lent: Exodus 20:1-17; 1 Corinthians 1:18-25; John 2:13-22

For God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength.

Have you heard the saying – if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.  It’s a Buddhist (obviously) koan.  A koan is teaching tool kind of like what we call a parable.  The intention of both is to “shake-up” rational thinking – to turn conventional wisdom on its head.

For instance – one of Jesus’ parables in Matthew is – the kingdom of God is like a man who finds a pearl of great price and sells everything he has to acquire that pearl (Matt 13:45) On the surface that sounds ok – but if you apply reason – it doesn’t make sense.  You sell everything you have for a pearl?  What are you going to do with just a pearl – you can’t eat it or live in it or wear it.  To sell everything you have for one pearl is foolish.  That’s the point of parables.  Jesus uses foolishness to upend our thinking – because the kingdom of God – the kingdom of radical grace, love and acceptance is indeed pure foolishness, and giving up everything to acquire it is anything but rational.

A koan serves a similar purpose.  And this one – if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him – doesn’t sound reasonable does it?  Why would a Buddhist kill the one they follow? The Buddha is the Enlightened One – we might say, what Jesus is for us, the Buddha is for Buddhists.  Your life is the road, it’s a fairly straightforward metaphor.  So the teaching is - if you meet what you think is Enlightenment – in yourself, in another teacher, in a concept you learn or devise – kill it.   Because if you think you know it all, if you think you’ve finally got it – that’s an idol.  Destroy the image, let go of the concept and focus back on the road, the journey, the practice.

Jesus is killing idols and concepts in our gospel.  In fact in all the lessons this morning I pick-up on a theme of God wanting God’s people to understand our relationship with God is ever-evolving, just like our understanding of who/what God “is”.  And when we think we have finally got “it” – when we think we have it all figured out – that is its own stumbling block.  That can be the downfall of the religious.

In John’s gospel this story of Jesus overturning the temples takes place right at the beginning of his ministry.  We’re only in the second chapter when Jesus has this outburst in the temple.  And if you don’t find my mixing of religious metaphors too blasphemous – than I submit that the Temple is the proverbial Buddha on the road and Jesus knows to destroy it.

You see, Jesus isn’t mad about the fees the priests are charging.  Jesus is not angry about temple mismanagement – he does not call them a “den of robbers” as he does in the other gospels.  His actions are a literal overturning of a fixed concept of God.  The temple system had its run, but it’s finished.  It’s become to constricting, access to God controlled by the religious authorities.  But God does not need the temple system and God wants people to worship the living God to be met on the road.  The relationship with God is evolving.  It’s been evolving since the beginning, and at this point, God is incarnate right there in front of them – in the person – the living breathing power of humanity – that is Jesus Christ.

Remember later in John’s gospel, just a few chapters later actually – when Jesus meets the woman at the well?  Remember that story?  He asks the woman for some water from the well and they get to talking.  She says to Jesus – I can tell you are a prophet, and our ancestors said we are to worship on this mountain, but you say we are to worship in Jerusalem.  And Jesus replies – believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain, nor in Jerusalem – but you will worship the Father in spirit and in truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him (4:20-23).  That is who God wants to be in relationship with.

Not a people who have made a religious system their God.  Jesus is smashing that concept.  Jesus is enacting a new reality. Because God is doing a new thing in and through Jesus.

Do any of you remember back in 2003 when the then Chief Justice of the Alabama Supreme Court Roy Moore, was ordered by the federal appeals court to remove his 5,000+ pound monument of the 10 commandments that he had erected in the middle of the Alabama State Judicial building?  It got a lot of press.  And later when he was campaigning for another office, he took the monument on tour.

I remember reading an article from The Atlantic at the time that described how the monument was transported.  (http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2005/10/roy-and-his-rock/304264/)

Apparently it traveled on the flatbed of a large truck and would be hoisted aloft by a 5-ton crane that audibly groaned and visibly buckled with the weight of Chief Justice Moore’s concretized interpretation of God’s granite rules of law.

That is not a helpful visual for Christianity.  We follow a savior who says, my yoke is easy and my burden is light.  Not a god who imposes written-in-stone restrictions that feel like a soul crushing 5-ton weight around our neck.  And when one person tries to impose their vision of God’s law…well, doesn’t that make them a god?  Doesn’t that create a stumbling block for people who want to be in a mutual, life-giving and loving relationship built on hope?  If that’s how people see organized religion, are we really surprised that more people these days prefer to be spiritual over being religious?

And what’s ironic to me (and it doesn’t take a Masters of Divinity or a degree of any kind), to see that the words God speaks, and God calls them words, not commandments – are intended to help us live and live well.  God’s words encourage rest. God’s words encourage respect for ourselves and for one another.  God’s words were given to God’s people – AFTER – God had granted them freedom and release – not before, as some sort of conditional contract.

And isn’t Jesus the Word of God?  The living, breathing, incarnate Word sent to release us from the burdens history shows we impose on ourselves when we let our time-based and culture-bound concepts become idols.  Our systems become gods.  When we think we completely understand God and God’s ways, we prevent God from overturning the tables and doing something new.  

So, this gets us to Paul.  This is what he is frustrated about.  Paul writes – the Jews demand signs and the Greeks desire wisdom – but we proclaim Christ crucified.  And the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us – it is the power of God.

We proclaim Christ crucified.  Does that make sense to you?  Is that rational?  How is a person, dying on a cross, naked, abandoned, and ashamed – a symbol of Almighty power?

It is the ultimate table-turning, idol-smashing divine act meant to upend any and all rigid concepts of God and God’s power.  And it is only that death of what we think God is, what we think power is – that leads to resurrection.

It is not reasoned – love never is.  It is not rational – forgiveness rarely is.  It is not an intellectual exercise.  For we believe God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.

What is the foolish act of love in your life that you keep reasoning yourself out of?

Where is the weakness in your life that you keep covering up because it is impossible and probably terrifying to believe that in proclaiming your weakness – God’s power will pull you through?

What rigid way of thinking on your road do you need to kill, let go of, break free from, so that you might know the liberating and foolish freedom of good news?  Because that – whatever that is – is something worth giving up for Lent.  Amen.

The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

Hope When Things Seem Hopeless

The Second Sunday of Lent
Romans 4:13-25
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

Have you ever hoped against hope? That’s what Paul says that Abraham did. Our lesson from the Hebrew Bible this morning tells us that Abraham was ninety-nine years old when God promised a son to him and Sarah. Having a baby when you’re ninety-nine, that’s probably the definition of hoping against hope, isn’t it? Abraham hoped against hope because the God in whom he believed gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. What kind of faith does it take to hope like that? Who since Abraham has ever believed that strongly in the promises of God, never wavering, but growing stronger in faith day by day? Not me, if I’m honest. How about you?

Sometimes, I wonder if we’re not in the business of hoping against hope as a church. That’s not something I want to write on my business cards: “hoper against hope,” but there are days when it feels like that’s what I do professionally. I was meeting with my spiritual director a few weeks ago, and as we’ve tended to do during our meetings for the past year, the topic of the number of funerals we’ve had at Good Shepherd lately came up. My spiritual director shared with me that the only other church she knew of that had had as many funerals as we have lately was the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen. I want you to let that sink in. We shouldn’t be in the same ballpark as Mary Our Queen on anything, but yet we are. It sure feels like I’m hoping against hope. I don’t know about you, but that’s what it feels like for me.

We had another funeral this past week. Afterward, Arianne and I were talking, and we realized that in the past year, we’ve both memorized the majority of the burial service. Neither one of us set out to do it, that’s not one of the parts of the Book of Common Prayer that they tell you to memorize when you’re training to become a priest, but that’s where we both are. When Irealized this, my first reaction was sadness. How sad it is that we’ve lost so many members of this community. And it is sad. But as I’ve thought about it more, I think memorizing the burial service has been a large part of what’s kept me going this past year. When I go to pray, the words that come to my lips are those great hoping against hope words that we say at funerals:

As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives and that at the last he will stand upon the earth. After my awaking, he shall raise me up; and in my body I shall see God. I myself shall see, and my eyes behold him, who is my friend and not a stranger.

For to your faithful people, O Lord, life is changed, not ended, and when our mortal body lies in death, there is prepared for us a dwelling place eternal in the heavens.

In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ…

This is what Paul is talking about. This is the faith we, like Abraham, have in the God who gives new life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. It’s right there at every funeral, when we, the people of God, gather together in the midst of our tears to celebrate the resurrection. When we pull out white vestments and flowers and alleluias—even in Lent!—and we proclaim that Christ is risen, and we will rise too. This is hoping against all hope. This is being the church.

I don’t just see this at funerals, for the record. If you look around, God is still calling into existence things that do not exist. Things are happening right here, at Good Shepherd. Go and talk to someone one the Outreach Committee about 1K Churches, a new ministry that is being piloted here at Good Shepherd to use our endowment to make micro loans so that people living in Baltimore can break the cycle of poverty. A year ago, this ministry didn’t exist. Not at Good Shepherd, not anywhere. But Bob Locke heard someone talking about this idea, and it made a spark in his heart, and he began to share this spark with other people, and God is calling a new thing into being at Good Shepherd. I could name many other examples of things like this: this Lent our Spiritual Enrichment Committee is partnering with other parishes to do Christian Formation together for the first time! We had more funerals in 2014 than any year in recent memory, but we also had more baptisms! God is still in the business of breathing new life into us and calling new things into existence! We are still here, and we still hope!

For the record, as much as I love the passage we heard this morning from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, Paul gets Abraham’s story wrong.Yes, Abraham hoped against hope, but his trust in God wavered, too. It wavered a lot in fact. If you read Genesis, Abraham spends as much time doubting as he does believing, if not more. Just like me. Just like you, I’d imagine. There are times when it’s hard for me to hope, but when they come, I catch just enough of a glimpse of God still at work in this world to keep me holding out hope just a bit longer. That’s what the Kingdom of God is like. Paul Tillich, a famous theologian, once said: “[t]he Kingdom of God does not come in one dramatic event sometime in the future. It is coming here and now in every act of love, in every manifestation of truth, in every moment of joy, in every experience of the holy.”

Our job, as the church, is to partner with one another in pointing out these glimpses we catch of God’s Kingdom, helping one another to hope against hope, sure that the God in whom we have believed is still in the business of giving life to the dead and calling into existence the things that do not exist.

Amen.

The First Step is Admitting that You Have a Problem

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

Ash Wednesday

2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10

I am going to be perfectly honest: part of me dreads Ash Wednesday each year. The words which we will soon hear spoken to each of us are hard words to hear: Remember that you are dust, and to dust shall you return. They are hard words because they remind me of my own mortality; they are a reminder that no matter how hard I try, I am ultimately not in complete control over my own life. I dread being told that. I don’t know about you, but I am addicted to control. I am addicted to that rush I feel when I am in control of my own life. And if I’m not in control, I at least want to project an image that will make other people think I am in control. But Ash Wednesday and its reminder that I am dust tells me that I am not ultimately in control of my own life. That is hard to hear.

But there is also a relief that comes when I hear those words. Remember that you are dust, and to dust shall you return. Remember, in other words, that there is a God, and that God is not you.

That is what Ash Wednesday is about, after all. At their roots, the many things that we have each come to repent of this day are the same. Sin, however we might define its particulars in our lives, is a denial that God is in control of my life. Pretending to have that sort of ultimate control that only belongs to God is a way of making an idol out of myself. That is what sin is: usurping the place that properly belongs to God. That is what the serpent told Adam and Eve in the Garden: Eat of the fruit of the tree of which God has commanded you not to eat, and you will be like God.

The first step is admitting that I have a problem. Paradoxically, it is only in doing so that I will ever be free, free to be the child of God that I was created to be.

God is God, and I am not. Ash Wednesday is a hard day for us, but it is also, as St. Paul says, the day of our salvation. Because today, this one day out of all 365, I am called to be honest with myself, with all of you, and with God. I need that honesty, because it is only in admitting that I am not in control, in admitting that I need a savior, that I create the space in my heart for the Holy Spirit to come in and renew in me the joy of my salvation. The first step is always admitting that you have a problem.

Amen.

The Glory of God

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs
The Last Sunday after the Epiphany
Mark 9:2-9

Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 

I love Mark’s account of the transfiguration because it is so honest in portraying the disciples’ terror. Matthew omits their terror, and Luke tries to minimize it, but not Mark. Mark is honest. The transfiguration was terrifying, but not because it was miraculous. There are plenty of miracles in Mark’s Gospel, but we are never told that they’re terrifying. We’ve heard stories of Jesus healing and casting out demons these past few weeks, and people were amazed and astounded by these miracles, but not terrified. There are only three occasions in Mark where we are told the disciples are terrified. The first is in Mark 6, just after the feeding of the five thousand. The disciples are in a boat, trying to cross the Sea of Galilee to go to Bethsaida. It is night, and there is a strong wind that is frustrating their efforts to row across. Jesus had stayed behind on the other shore to pray, but suddenly they see him walking across the water, and they are terrified. We heard the second occasion of the disciples’ terror this morning: how, when Jesus took Peter and James and John up a high mountain, presumably to pray, as was his custom. Suddenly, Jesus’ clothes are bleached dazzling white, the word in Greek means to flash like lightning, and beside him are Moses and Elijah, who were promised to return to herald the messiah’s arrival. And Peter begins to babble, because the disciples are terrified. The third occasion comes after the crucifixion, when Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome went to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body with spices. When they get there, they find the stone rolled away, and a young man in a white robe tells them, “He has been raised; he is not here.” And they went out and fled from the tomb in terror.

No one is ever terrified by the many miracles in Mark’s Gospel, but these three stories (walking on water, transfiguration, and resurrection) terrify the disciples. Why is that? To us, they seem equally as miraculous as healing someone’s withered hand or casting out demons, don’t they? After all, healing, exorcism, miraculous feedings, walking on water, transfiguration, resurrection, aren’t we just giving many different names for impossible? But for the disciples, these three actions belong to a different category from mere miracle. They were all divine acts that could not be explained. They could explain healings and exorcisms and miraculous feedings. Elijah and Moses and the prophets had done those things. If you just knew the right spells, you could do them too. In fact, there are ancient depictions of miracle stories from the gospels where Jesus is shown holding a magic wand. Clearly, there was a category in the ancient world that could explain these things.

But not walking on water, or wearing clothing that flashed like lightning, or being resurrected. These were things that gods did. In Greek and Jewish literature alike, these acts were reserved to the Gods. Only Hermes or the Spirit of God could move across the waters, as God’s Spirit did in creation. You knew when you saw a god or the Most High God because of their clothing, which was like nothing that human beings could make. And for the Greeks and Romans, resurrection was a sign of being exalted to godhood. These moments in Mark’s Gospel are moments when the disciples are allowed to clearly see Jesus’ divinity, and it terrifies them.

And that is why Peter wants to make three dwellings. He is terrified, and he wants to find a way to accommodate the divine into his categories. He wants God to fit into the way that he understands the world to work. But that is not what God does. Instead of changing to fit our categories, God changes us to fit God’s categories. That is why we began our worship this morning with a prayer that God might changed into Christ’s likeness from glory to glory. From glory to glory. From the transfiguration to the resurrection.

It’s no mistake that we are hearing this Gospel reading today, the last Sunday after Epiphany. On Wednesday, we will begin our Lenten fasts, seeking to allow God to work in us through the individual disciplines we each will choose, so that we might be made more like Christ. I don’t know about you, but I have tended to think about Lent as a journey to the cross, to Good Friday. But that is too small an understanding, like Peter’s attempt to make dwellings on the Mountain of Transfiguration. Our collect this morning gives us the clue that this is the wrong idea: we are journeying from glory to glory, because the Lenten road is a journey to Easter and the resurrection. It’s a journey that leads us beyond our theology and our categories, all of which are ultimately too small to contain God.

As we heard this morning, our God is a transcendent mystery, infinitely above all our attempts at understanding. At the same time, in Jesus Christ, our Lord and Creator became our brother, like us in every way. I don’t understand this, any more than I understand the transfiguration. But I do know this, and I believe it, even as I do not understand it: God breaks into our world in incarnation, in walking on water, in transfiguration, in resurrection, in bread and wine, so that we might become like God.

Amen.

Be Lifted Up - Demons et al

Mark 1:29-39

There are three major events that take place in the excerpt we heard from Mark this morning – our 3^rd Sunday in the first chapter of the gospel – and I’d like to draw out each one, then draw some conclusions on how these very first century, ancient world stories – like exorcisms – still have meaning in our 21^st century lives.

So – we’re on the same day as we were last Sunday.  In the morning on that Sabbath – Jesus went into the synagogue and wowed everyone with his teaching – teaching not as a scribe but having authority.  Jesus knows who he is and whose he is – and the people can see that.

And it was that authority – that sense of self-knowledge – that compels him to break the rules.  In the midst of that Sabbath worship he healed a man of an unclean spirit.  We can assign all sorts of modern day maladies to what that might mean – unclean spirit – but Jesus sets the person free – releases him – unbinds him.  Jesus casts out whatever it is that it keeping that person from being the child of God he is meant to be.

And – that gets noticed.  It’s noticed by the people in authority – they don’t have authority, they are just in the right position – because Jesus broke the rules.  It gets noticed by the people – who are amazed at his teaching and healing.  And, as we see again this morning, it gets noticed by the demon.  A recurring theme of Mark’s gospel is that until the very end – until the crucifixion – the only ones who recognize Jesus as the Holy One of God are the demons!  We’ll get to that.

So – Jesus then leaves worship – I’m sure he stayed for coffee hour, though…and goes with his disciple to visit Simon’s mother-in-law.  And it’s annoying she doesn’t have a name – so let’s just call her Esther.  Women weren’t important enough when the scriptures were written to always be given a name – BUT – amazingly – they are important enough for Jesus to talk to, eat with and to heal.  Jesus and Simon go into the house – Simon says, Esther is really sick – can you help?

Another important point of context. In the time of this gospel – when you’re sick there are major societal ramifications.  Just like a person who is considered “unclean” because they have a demon – a person who is sick is shameful, a disgrace.  Remember in John’s gospel, the blind man – and everyone around him is arguing over who sinned so badly that this man went blind?  Was it his fault?  His parents?  To be sick was to be at fault – to be deserving of your illness.  This reflected badly on you – and your family.  We still have that, with some illnesses, don’t we?

Being sick also kept you from being able to fulfill your role in the family.  Look – it’s old fashioned to us now – but the role of the woman in the household was to serve – and we can’t take that in a pejorative sense.  Esther being sick meant she not only brought shame onto her family from the outside – but inside the family, she couldn’t do her job.  None of us like it when we are in that state do we?  Work gives us purpose – makes us feel like a contributing member of the world. None of us want to be a burden, right?

 

So what does Jesus do?  Don’t forget it’s still the Sabbath – not supposed to do any healing – but just like that man bound because of a demon – Esther is bound by her fever – and Jesus wants to set people free. 

And notice how he does so…Jesus came, he took her by the hand and lifted her up.  Picture that for a minute.  Picture the tender action of Jesus gently taking her hand and lifting her up.  I doubt that was how he cast out demons – but Esther was a different person with different needs. 

Jesus takes her by the hand, lifts her up – and THEN the fever leaves her.  Jesus isn’t one of those charismatic preachers who needs an audience to put on a show of healing.  He meets individual people and relates to their particular needs – always with the purpose of restoring them to wholeness in themselves – AND – within their community.  Jesus lifts people up.  Jesus sets people free.

Which allows her to turn and follow.  Someone cared for her – so she turns and cares for Jesus.

And then, forget about it – its been a busy day and word has gotten out!  So S’maltimore.  And droves of people surround poor Esther’s house wanting to be lifted up and set free – and who could blame them? 

But – notice what it says – all who were sick and possessed came – the whole city – but – not all were healed.  Many were.  Many demons cast out – many healed with various diseases – but not all. 

Why?  I don’t know.  Just like today – I don’t know why some are healed and some are not.  Go back and reread what we heard from Isaiah – another reminder about the mystery, the incomprehensibility of the Holy One.  But it’s important for us to remember – Jesus did not heal every person he met in the way that they wanted.  And even those he did – they had the same mortal life that we do.

Moving on – as Jesus did.  The next morning – he gets up goes and prays.  Look I don’t do it every day either – but I do it, fairly regularly – and it makes a difference in my life – and I know I’m not the only one here who has that same awareness.  To start our day connecting with the Holy One – matters.  It certainly mattered to Jesus.

But check out this phrase – Simon and his companions go “hunting” for Jesus.  Hunting?  Yep – that is a direct translation – they aren’t just looking, they aren’t eagerly seeking – they are on the hunt.  Because Esther’s house is still surrounded by people clamoring to be set free, to be lifted up.  Which makes Simon and his companions anxious and nervous.  Just like the disciples surrounded by all those hungry masses in the feeding of the 5,000 story who turn to Jesus saying – what are we supposed to do about this?

We get anxious when there is a crisis of some kind and we don’t know how to solve it or fix it, immediately.  So we hunt for someone to give our anxiety to – because we have this not always true notion – that there is always something “to do” – sometimes there isn’t.

Anyway – probably because Jesus connects daily with God, probably because Jesus knows who he is and whose he is - Jesus doesn’t react, doesn’t give in to their anxiety.  He did what he could do in Capernaum – and it’s time to move on.  Some were healed, some weren’t – he can’t do everything.  He doesn’t do what they want – he lives into his calling - let us go on to the neighboring towns to proclaim the good news – because that is what I came to do – Jesus tells them.

And – if I may be so bold as to reference my sermon of two weeks ago – the good news is this – the time is now.  God is here.  Turn and trust.  Jesus knows that when some people hear that message they will be set free – they will be lifted up.

Wait – the demons.  I believe in demons that want to thwart the power of God in us and in the world.  As individuals – the demons are those things that keep us bound – they are the addictions – not just to vices – but to anxiety and fear, to basing our sense of who we are on what other people think.  Those critical demonic voices in our head that cut us down.  The demons are also the voices of our own pride and maybe even guilt – that keeps us from going into the neighboring towns and cities – to help lift people up.  Keep us from going into our own hearts to ask Jesus to turn and lift us up.

That’s why they always know Jesus – darkness never wants to let in the light, because anxiety and shame are the fears that keep demons alive. 

The good news is the same then, now and always – we hear it again and again because it doesn’t always get through, it doesn’t always lift us up, it doesn’t always encourage us to turn and serve in grateful response.  But many times it does.  Be grateful for the good news today – God is here, the time is now, turn and trust – for maybe just in the hearing you will be lifted up – and you in turn will go and lift up another.  Amen.

 The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

When Paul Isn't Really Talking about Idols

The Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany
1 Corinthians 8:1-13
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

Taken at face value, this morning’s epistle hardly sounds like the basis for a relevant sermon, much less an interesting one. After all, when was the last time someone offered you food that had been sacrificed to an idol? This is not a pressing issue in the church today. At the same time, though, it is. Paul is talking about specific issues within a specific community at a specific time, but the conclusions he draws are still things that we should pay attention to today.

To appreciate those conclusions, though, it’s helpful to know a bit about the specifics Paul was addressing. In Paul’s day, whenever you went to a temple to present an animal as a sacrifice, you didn’t sacrifice the whole animal to the god whose temple it was. And this was true whether the temple was the Temple of the Lord in Jerusalem, or the temple of Zeus in Corinth. You’d give the animal to the priest, who would slaughter it and cook it on the altar. Some parts would be given to the god, wholly consumed by fire. But the priest would take a few cuts of meat for himself, as well. And you’d get some of the meat for yourself, too. And in cosmopolitan Greek cities—like Corinth—the civic guilds would sponsor these sacrifices, and would have a huge feast for their members. This would be like the Maryland Club or the Engineers Club sponsoring a sacrifice today. To be a member of those civic guilds, to enjoy the prestige that went along with that membership, you had to participate in the feast. Paul is asking all of the Corinthian Christians to resign from the L’Hirondelle Club.

But Paul, the well-connected in the church at Corinth said, you’ve told us that there are no such things as idols. When you came and converted us, you made it clear that there was no Zeus or Artemis or Hera. So since the idol doesn’t actually represent anything, what’s the harm in participating in the Hopkins Club’s sacrifice next Tuesday?

We heard Paul’s response this morning. Knowledge puffs up, put love builds up. It doesn’t matter what I told you, he says, it doesn’t matter that you’re right. What matters is that there are other people in your church, the Johnsons in the pew in front of yours, and these people don’t understand that. They’re not as sophisticated as you, Paul says, and you are causing them to sin by participating in idol feasts. It’s not a sin for you, because you know an idol is nothing, but Johnny over there is afraid that Zeus is real, so it’s a sin for him.

You know, I think we could substitute any number of issues in the space of “food sacrificed to idols,” couldn’t we? What would you substitute? What isn’t a sin for you, but could be an occasion to stumble for your neighbor? Or turn it around: what isn’t a sin for your neighbor, but would be for you? The fact is, Paul isn’t really talking about food sacrificed to idols. That’s merely the example that is closest to hand in Corinth when he wrote this letter. Paul’s really talking about how do you live in Christian community. We still need help figuring that out today, don’t we?

Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. That’s Paul’s advice for us today. You’re not saved by what you know, in other words. Do you notice what Paul doesn’t do? He doesn’t try to correct the person with the weak conscience. He doesn’t really attempt any explanation at why eating food sacrificed to idols isn’t a sin, not really. What he does do is say, if this thing that I am doing is something that destroys my sister or brother in Christ’s faith, then I will never do it again.

And oh, but that’s hard to preach to all of you today, because I really want to be right, and Paul says that that doesn’t matter. Paul says that concern with being right, the one that we all have, the one that is displayed every second of every day by the talking heads on the 24-hour cable news channels, that concern with being right that our society is sick with, that doesn’t matter at all. Being right doesn’t save us. Love saves us.

And love is really what Paul is talking about all the time in First Corinthians. It’s easy to get distracted by all the bits about fornication and prostitutes that we’ve heard in the Lectionary for the past few weeks, but if you sit down and read First Corinthians through, Paul is talking about love. Remember, this is the epistle of Paul that has that most beloved of wedding passages: Love is patient, love is kind. That’s the climax of the letter. That’s what Paul builds to. That’s what Paul wants us to remember this morning, and every morning. That’s how he ends the letter, in fact: Let everything that you do be done in love. (1 Cor 16:14)

How do we focus on loving one another, instead of being right? God only knows. God only knows. That’s what Paul would tell us if he were here today. None of us have this love thing figured out, but God does. God, who in Jesus Christ, loved us to the end. Who showed us how to walk in love, and gave himself for us, an offering and sacrifice to God. A better sacrifice than what was available in the temple of Zeus. Probably still a better sacrifice than what’s down at the club of your choice today. And I don’t have this walking in love thing figured out, but I do know how it starts for me this morning: right up those steps to that altar. To stand there and to receive the bread and the wine, to hold Love Himself in the palm of my hand, to receive strength to let go of the need to be right, to receive grace to love my neighbor as myself.

Amen.

What is Your Good News?

Epiphany 3, Year B
Mark 1:14-20

Together we prayed for God to give us what we need to answer readily the call of Jesus and proclaim the good news.

Together we just listened to two stories of God issuing a call and in one story – Jonah – we have a prophet who eventually – and with great reluctance – finally proclaims good news. And in the other story we have some fisherman – Simon, Andrew, James and John – who drop what they’re doing and immediately answer the call, to follow.

Here are the questions these stories raise – Why are we sometimes reluctant? Why are we sometimes ready? What is the good news?

Let’s work our way backwards. What is the good news? Take minute and think about that – what you would say the good news is? Would you say you proclaim it? Would you say you live it?

Gospel translates as good news. Well, we have four. Which one is it? At the top level we can say – the good news is simply Jesus. We believe that the revelation of God was made known in the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus is the good news.

Which takes us down a step to the question – who is Jesus? Well, each gospel presents a different portrait. Here we are in Mark and he is pretty particular about what the good news is. We’re in chapter one this morning and Mark’s gospel begins like this – The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ. Everything that the writer of Mark is about to make known in these brief 16 chapters – is good news.

But just a few sentences later, we hear this – Jesus came to Galilee proclaiming the good news of God by saying – the time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God has come near, repent, believe.

The time is now. God is here. Turn and trust. (21st c. English) That is quite a powerful prayer. That is quite a starting place. Simon, Andrew, James and John are starting out. And guess what, they will start again and again and again.

I was once engaged in a friendly, albeit heated, debate with a family member about poverty and education. He was arguing from the position that everyone in this country had equal opportunity for education and if they didn’t do well in life, it was because they weren’t smart enough to take advantage of it. I was arguing from the position that the random fact of our birth family meant our opportunities for education are not equitable. My family origin afforded me privileges I didn’t earn, they were simply inherited. It was not a fruitful debate and finally I said, I guess you either start from the position that those who have, are called to help those who don’t – or every person for themselves. To which he replied – exactly.

For every decision, every choice we think about or make – we start from a particular vantage point – a specific value system.

This morning, Jesus offers, God offers a starting place. The time is now. God is here. Turn and trust. Simon, Andrew, James and John are starting. This act of dropping their nets and following doesn’t mean they are finished, souls are saved and they are done (cheap grace theology).

Dropping their nets demonstrates the choice is in their hands – we see the same with Jonah. A change of heart is only real if it changes our behavior.

From now on, for the rest of their journey – every circumstance they evaluate – every problem they wrestle with – starts with the good news. Starts at the truth the time is now. God is here. Turn and trust. Being born again is not a one-time event – it is simply starting from that trust again and again.

And then what does Jesus tell them to do? Is it something specific like, grow the church, feed the poor, solve all the problems in the world? No – Jesus simply says, follow me. If you believe - the time is now, God is near, turn and trust – then follow me, Jesus says. Follow me.

Mark’s gospel then goes on to describe what following looks like. They follow Jesus into the synagogue where he breaks rules that get him in trouble. Following Jesus means upsetting the apple cart to heal people and liberate them from systems that are sick, systems that oppress.

The follow Jesus into the crowds of hungry people who want to hear some good teaching where Jesus has compassion and finds a way to feed the masses. Following Jesus means going to those who are hungry and figuring out how the hungry can be filled.

They follow Jesus out onto the water in the midst of a storm and totally freak out. But Jesus is there. Following Jesus means setting out in our proverbial boats on rough seas, when things are stormy, and trusting that Jesus is right there with us too.

They follow Jesus early in the morning into the darkness to learn to pray. Following Jesus means taking time out of the busyness of our lives to be quiet before God and pray.

They follow Jesus into homes and places where he teaches them in private. He tells them weird stories we call parables to explain what the kingdom of God means. Following Jesus means the Christ-centered community takes time to be together (like we’re doing right now) to grapple with these same teachings and figure out what the kingdom of God looks like in our time.

So if you’re wanting to follow Jesus – take a look at the back of your bulletin. Our “announcements” are really invitations. If you want to follow Jesus to support a family in their grief, help us support the Palermo family.

If you want to follow Jesus to where people are hungry and waiting to be filled, help us increase the volunteer team that serves the people of Paul’s Place.

If you want to follow Jesus to be with God, then consider meditating on scripture or a story from your own life and share that story with the people of this place in our Lenten book.

If you want to connect with others who are seeking Christ, then meet your fellow parishioners at our coffee hour this morning. Get to know the people of this Christ-centered community.


Delving into new “things” can be a little scary, but in Mark’s good news pretty much every time the disciples follow Jesus they are – amazed and terrified. When God’s reign breaks into our world – it is incredible and it is scary. There isn’t always a clear plan. Following Jesus is accepting the unknown and repeating to yourself – it’s ok, because the time is now. God is here – so I’m going to turn and trust.

God helps us with the following. But the starting place, the change of heart – is up to us.


Someone said something really interesting to me this week – she said, there is a difference between something being finished and something being complete. What do you think about that? For me, it really resonated. I can have a finished sermon – but that’s really different from having a complete sermon. I can finish my dinner – but that’s different then eating a complete meal. And in the more profound sense – I have been with people who feel they are finished – and I have been with people who feel they are complete. Personally, that’s what I crave in my life of trying to following Jesus. And I think our starting place has a lot do with our sense of completeness.

What is your starting place? Can you proclaim it? Is it good news? Do you believe the time is now – God is here – turn and trust? And if so, do you hear Jesus’ invitation to follow? This morning do you want to? Or are you feeling more like Jonah – reluctant to accept the good news of God’s love and forgiveness for everyone?

One last thing – the good news of Mark’s gospel doesn’t finish – the original ending – chapter 16 has the woman following Jesus to an empty tomb where an angel says – hey! Get going. Jesus is ahead of you, he has gone to Galilee (i.e. he has gone back to where this whole thing started). And it says they left terrified and amazed. But they must’ve done what was told them because this good news got told and has been catching people in God’s net for thousands of years.

God is here. The time is now. Turn and trust.  Amen.

- The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks