"Wrong Kingdom," Jesus Said.

Brad Sullivan

Proper 25, Year B

October 25, 2015

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

Mark 10:46-52

“Wrong Kingdom,” Jesus Said.

We heard in Mark’s Gospel this morning, that Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem by way of Jericho.  Y’all remember a rather famous story involving Jericho and a young man named Joshua who led the Israelites to glorious victory against the people of Jericho.  Joshua fought the battle of Jericho, and the walls came tumbling down.  That was the beginning of Israel’s conquest of the land of Canaan, the land which God had promised to Israel through Abraham.  Eventually, Israel conquered all of the land of Canaan and set up their capital in Jerusalem where David reigned as king.

Now, we have Jesus, the son of David, going to Jerusalem by way of Jericho.  Interestingly enough, Jesus’ name in Hebrew is Joshua:  Jeshua, Iesus, Jesus.  So we have Jesus, who is the new Joshua and the new Davidic king going to Jerusalem by way of Jericho, and yet his actions are decidedly different from his predecessors.  Jesus doesn’t conquer Jericho; he heals a blind man there.  Jesus doesn’t set up his kingdom in Jerusalem by winning military victory over his enemies; he lets his enemies kill him. 

Jesus was inaugurating his new kingdom, God’s kingdom here on earth, and he did so through peace and healing rather than through war and killing.  Jesus gave his life for the sake of his people.  Jesus’ kingdom is not one of domination, but of service, of giving up one’s life for the sake of others. 

That sounds good in theory, doesn’t it?  With so many school shooting lately, I’ve heard and been a part of several conversations regarding what we would do if a gunman came to wherever.  Some say they would profess their faith if it meant being shot.  Some say they wouldn’t.  Some plan on having a gun with them to shoot the bad buy, while others say the way of Jesus is not to kill, but to lay down one’s life for the sake of the Gospel.

I used to have my very clear answer worked out:  I’m a disciple of Jesus, so I’d let myself be killed.  I had an easier time with that prior to being a father and a husband.  Now, my faith in Jesus tells me not to kill, but to show even the gunman love by valuing his life more than he values mine, but I also think, “I don’t want to leave my kids without a dad.”  There’s a conflict between what I believe Jesus teaches about life in his kingdom and my fear for my children’s well being.  I believe good would come from following Jesus’ teaching to lay down one’s life for the sake of the Gospel.  I trust that.  I have a hard time trusting that my kids will be ok without me.

That makes me a bit hypocritical.  Another question has come up along the same lines as the gunman question.  Can we truly be a church of Jesus’ disciples and also own guns as means of safety?  Can we claim to follow Jesus while intending, in certain scenarios, to kill people?  Does that make us hypocrites?  Maybe, yeah, it might just make us hypocrites.  The truth is, we’re all hypocrites, and we’re all striving to be less and less so.  The bigger problem is not being a hypocrite, but in not realizing the ways in which we are one.

In healing Bartimaeus, Jesus highlights again the point he made to James and John.  “whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (Mark 10:45).

See, Bartimaeus’ request of Jesus was in stark contrast to James’ and John’s request of Jesus just before this.  James and John were unaware of any healing they might have actually needed (and we all need healing of some kind).  Instead, James and John asked for power and position in God’s kingdom.  After years of learning from Jesus, their request was not, “Lord help me follow you more nearly,” or “let me serve others more compassionately.”  Their request was, “make me powerful and mighty.”  Make me like Joshua and David of old.  “Wrong kingdom,” Jesus said.

Bartimaeus’ blindness highlights James’ and John’s spiritual blindness, emotional blindness, discipleship blindness.  They thought they had it together enough to request power and authority in Jesus’ kingdom, but they were blind to what Jesus’ kingdom was; they were blind to what they needed.  Bartimaeus knew not only that he needed to see, but once he could see, he knew he wanted to follow Jesus.  While Bartimaeus’ ailment was rather obvious to him, this passage highlighting the spiritual blindness of James and John reminds us of how often we fail to recognize or fail to admit what our ailments are and what healing we need from Jesus. 

What if Bartimaeus hadn’t admitted he was blind?  He was calling for Jesus and then when Jesus asked “what do you want me to do for you?”, what if Bartimaeus had said, “oh, I’m really ok, I’ve just got a head cold right now, or it’s probably just allergies or something; do you have a Benadryl, or any…you know what, it’s ok, I’m sorry I bothered you.”  He’d have stayed just as he was and just where he was.  He couldn’t follow Jesus until he admitted what was obvious, that he was a mess and needed healing.

That’s kinda what we do sometimes, when we don’t admit to ourselves or to one another, or to Jesus that we even have problems.  We stay just as we are and we stay just where we are.  Sometimes it’s just too tough or scary to give up our life, right?  If I admit to Jesus or even to myself that this part of my life needs fixing, and if I ask Jesus to fix it, well then I really do have to fix it with Jesus’ help.  I might have to give up some part of my life.  That’s what Jesus calls us to do, to give up our lives and follow him.  As Shane Claiborne wrote in Red Letter Revolution, subtitled What If Jesus Really Meant What He Said, “Jesus didn’t come for folks who have it all together, but for folks who are willing to admit they are falling apart.” (Shane Claiborne, Red Letter Revolution, p. 29)

Jesus came for folks willing to admit where our hypocrisies are.  As Christian author and sociology professor, Tony Campolo, says when people claim he’s a hypocrite, “yeah, I am a hypocrite. Come to my church, you’ll fit right in.”  He doesn’t mean this in a snarky way, but in an honest open invitation kind of way.  We’re all hypocrites in some way.  Ultimately, hypocrites are the only people that need to come to church.  The ones who do are the ones who know they are blind and are asking Jesus to heal them.  We pray to Jesus, “grant us the faith and the peace to know what is right and good in your Kingdom, and give us the grace and strength then to live out your kingdom way.” 

Regarding “what would we do” scenarios with gunmen…ultimately, we have no idea what we’d do.  We don’t know how our brains would react.  Peter knew he would kill for Jesus.  As Jesus was being arrested, Peter even started to, pulling out his sword to fight and kill for Jesus.  “Put away your sword,” Jesus said.  Peter was willing to lay down his life, sword in hand, in battle.  Then he found that he wasn’t willing to risk laying down his life by being arrested and killed without the chance of fighting back.  Of course years later, he did lay down his life, acquitting himself quite well, being crucified for following Jesus.

So what is our “lay down our life” plan?  Let someone kill us for the sake of Jesus Kingdom, for the sake of being a servant of peace?  Yes, I believe that should be my plan.  If the gunman scenario ever happens, then I’ll find out what I’ll do.  In the mean time, we all have plenty of chances to give up our lives for the sake of Jesus’ kingdom.  We have plenty of chances to sacrifice, to be servants, to let the needs of others come before our own needs.  We have plenty of chances to ask Jesus to heal us, and to give up those portions of our lives that keep us from living out Jesus’ Gospel.  We have plenty of chances every day to shine the light of the Gospel into the lives of those around us.  So we pray, “Lord Jesus have mercy on us sinners not only by healing our blindness and hypocrisies, but by showing us where our blindness and hypocrisies lie; grant us the faith and the peace to know what is right and good in your Kingdom, and give us the grace and strength then to live out your kingdom way.”   Amen.

More Compassion, Less Correctness

Brad Sullivan

Proper 24, Year B

October 18, 2015

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

Job 38:1-7, (34-41)

Mark 10:35-45

More Compassion, Less Correctness

“Then the LORD answered Job out of the whirlwind: ‘Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?’”  Prior to this, Elihu, one of Job’s friends had been defending God to Job.  Job and his friends all had a pretty basic understanding of the universe and the causal relationship between human sin and human tragedy.  If something really bad happened to you, it was because you had done something really bad.  Job questioned how it could be so, since he hadn’t sinned in some terrible way.

Elihu, Job’s friend, on the other hand, defended God to the hilt, telling Job how bad he was and how righteous God was.  There was no compassion with Elihu, or very little.  There was no question in Elihu’s mind that he was right.  He used scripture to pack his arguments, and he gave platitudes and simple answers to Job’s misery.  I think when it comes down to it, Elihu basically made himself feel better – the world was still flat, God still never allowed anything bad to happen to anyone good (and therefore Elihu was safe), and everything was in its place.

“Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge?”  God responds.  You don’t understand all that is, Elihu, nor for that matter, do you, Job.  The world is far more complex and mysterious that you allow, and simple answers to complex questions don’t actually help.  Thanks for trying to defend my sovereignty, God was saying, but my sovereignty really doesn’t need your defense.  Try instead for some compassion towards your friend.  Remember, Elihu, it’s love God and love each other, not defend God’s sovereignty at the expense of each other.

Imagine if Elihu had simply continued to sit with his friend Job, as he had when he first arrived, grieving with him, and when Job began to question, he had said, “I don’t know why all this terrible stuff happened to you, my friend.  You were a really good guy, and this totally sucks.  I don’t think you deserved this.”  What if when Job had begun questioning God, Elihu had not been afraid to allow Job to question God?  What if he had simply said, “Yeah, I get why you would questions God’s fairness right now; it doesn’t seem right what happened to you.  I love you Job, and I’m with you.”  What if Elihu had been willing to question and wonder with Job?  They may not have become so entrenched in being right that they ended up “darkening counsel by words without knowledge.”

We’re going through a difficult time right now in the Episcopal Church with folks divided over a difficult issue, some folks rejoicing that marriage has been extended to include homosexual couples, and some folks deeply disturbed by the same.  At the heart of this issue on both sides, is people, and people on both sides of this issue are hurting.  There are people within our congregation on both sides of this issue, people we love, who are hurting. 

I think one desire many of us share is for everything to be settled and done.  Let’s just quiet messing with it, let’s just quit talking about it.  There’s a desire just to know with absolute certainty all of the correct answers, or at least to be able to put the issues and the others out of our minds.  One key lesson I find in the book of Job, however, is that the Kingdom of God desires compassion more than it desires correct answers.

Folks on both sides of this issue often don’t understand what folks on the other side of the issue are going through.  Sometimes even believing on one side of the issue is hurtful to folks on the other side, and yet we often don’t see that or understand that.  When people we love are going through difficult times that we don’t understand, Job teaches me that a good response might be, “I don’t quite understand what you’re going through, but I do understand that it is extremely difficult and painful for you.” 

I think that might have been a response more pleasing to God that Elihu could have given to Job, compassion more than correct answers, God’s grace more than theologically righteous grandstanding.  We’re reminded in Hebrews, after all, that Jesus is not unable to sympathize with us in our weakness, but knows exactly how hard it is to be human in this world.  Jesus gives us grace precisely because it is so darn hard to be human in this world. 

Like James and John, we often want power and glory to make our way a bit easier in the world.  With enough power and glory, you can pretty well have things go the way you want them to and get people to do what you want them to do, but Jesus wasn’t offering power and glory.  Jesus was offering grace. 

When James and John ask in a new way for power within Jesus’ kingdom, he tells them that that place of authority and power is not his to give.  That’s a pretty kind answer at that point, “sorry guys, it’s just not mine to give.”  I have a feeling if it had been me, I’d have been pretty frustrated with James and John at this point.  “Good Lord, guys” I might have said to James and John, “I’ve been teaching you for over a chapter of Mark’s gospel now that the kingdom of God is not about seeking power and glory, and here you two are at it again.”  That’s a bit more like what the other disciples were thinking anyway.  They were angry at James and John, saying, “dude, I can’t believe you tried to pull that over on us, getting power over us,” secretly thinking, “whew, glad you built up the gumption to ask before I did.”

The disciples were angry, and Jesus gave them grace.  Jesus simply offered another moment of teaching for his beloved disciples.  “Guys, the gentiles seek power and glory over each other, and they become tyrants over each other.  That’s not who we are.  Among us, greatness comes from serving each other.  Among us, greatness comes from risking losing everything for the sake of the beloved.  I’m not going to squander my life,” Jesus taught, “by seeking power and glory for myself.  I’m going to live my life and give my life for the sake of all humanity, giving up myself for the sake of my beloved.  I know how hard it is for you all, my beloved disciple, my beloved humanity,” Jesus was saying, “so I will give my life so that you may receive grace.”   

We are called by Jesus to give each other that same grace.  “Feed my sheep,” Jesus told Peter.  Peter was a bit hurt during this conversation, remember?  “Lord, you know all things,” Peter said, “You know I love you,” as Jesus asked him three times, “Do you love me.”  “Then feed by sheep Jesus told Peter.”  In this short exchange, Jesus showed great compassion for Peter and gave him great grace.  Jesus knew Peter’s heart was breaking over denying Jesus three times, so Jesus gave Peter three opportunities to profess his love for Jesus.  Rather than just keep it quiet and let Peter assume, “I guess everything’s ok; we’re having a fish fry; I guess everything is ok.”  Rather than let Peter assume all was forgiven, Jesus gave Peter the grace to know that all was well.

Then, “feed my sheep,” Jesus told Peter.  You don’t know everything.  You get things wrong about as much as you get them right, and I want you to feed my sheep.  You don’t need to be powerful and mighty, Jesus was saying in today’s Gospel.  I don’t even want you to be powerful and mighty, Jesus said.  I just want you to feed my sheep.  I want you to serve others.  I want you to give compassion to others.  I want you to offer grace to others. 

When we feel threatened by others, or when we are disturbed by disagreements over deeply held and difficult issues within our church, we tend to want to be able to exercise power and authority over the other, making sure things go our way.  Looking at God’s response to Elihu and Job, looking at Jesus’ response to James and John, I think Jesus has taught us to feed each other with compassion, rather than with correctness.  I think Jesus has taught us to offer grace to each other when we hurt each other, rather than ignoring the problem and hoping it will eventually just fade away.  Grace and compassion are what Jesus gives to us, and then he tells us to feed each other with the same.  Amen. 

Possessed by the Demon of Our Possessions

Brad Sullivan

Proper 23, Year B

October 11, 2015

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

Hebrews 4:12-16

Mark 10:17-31

Possessed by the Demon of Our Possessions

The movie Fight Club came out when I was in my early twenties, and like most guys in their early twenties at the time, I loved that movie.  I still do, truth be told, and not because there were violent fight scenes.  I loved the movie because of its sharp social commentary and its insightful critique of what we value and what is truly important to us.

Early on in the movie, Brad Pitt’s character, Tyler Durden, says, “The things you own end up owning you.”  This certainly seems to be the case for the man in our Gospel story this morning who wanted to inherit eternal life, but wasn’t willing to get rid of his things in order to do so.  We might think him foolish, but then the truth of the Fight Club quote comes in.  “The things you own end up owning you.” 

The more stuff we have, the more responsibility we feel to maintain and care for our stuff.  Sometimes we find great generosity from those who have very little.  They don’t have enough for their stuff to matter all that much.  They don’t have enough possessions for their possessions to provide them with security or help in time of need.  Rather, they rely on people, on friends and neighbors in times of need.  They are focused not on maintaining their stuff, but they are focused on the people around them.   

That’s what Jesus encouraged the man in our Gospel passage to do.  Get rid of your stuff, and actually notice the people around you.  All of your stuff is just man-made things.  The people around you, they are made by God, in God’s image.  You want to inherit eternal life?  You want to live with God’s life dwelling in you, guiding you?  You want to walk with God like Adam and Eve did?  “Here’s how,” Jesus said, “get rid of all your man-made possessions that have ended up possessing you, and focus your attention on the God-made people all around you.” 

After the man left, downcast because he was too possessed by his possessions, I believe Jesus pitied him.  How hard it will be for people who are possessed by their possessions to enter the Kingdom of God, to want to live with God’s life dwelling in them, guiding them, and to walk with God in this life like Adam and Eve did.  How hard it will be for people who rely on their possessions rather than rely on each other.  Jesus pitied the man who went away, remaining possessed by the demon of his possessions rather than following Jesus’ advice and asking Jesus’ help to cast out that demon.

So the, Jesus taught his disciples again about the first being last and the last being first in God’s kingdom.  The first time Jesus mentioned this was when the disciples were arguing about which of them was the greatest, and Jesus showed them a little child and told them, “whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” 

In the kingdom of God, don’t seek power, Jesus was telling them, but rather, like a child, seek to acknowledge and live out your dependence upon other people.  Of course as adults, we have a much higher level of independence than children, and yet we are still made to be interdependent with each other.  God made Eve to be the helper and support of Adam.  Realizing humans can’t live our lives all alone, realizing that we all need help and support, God gave humans other humans to be our help and support.  God gave us each other.  

God’s kingdom is not found in power and wealth and stuff.  God’s kingdom is found in the needs of people being filled by the love of other people.  Remember Matthew 25, verses 31-46 when Jesus told the righteous that they took care of him in his times of need?  “What, no, we never took care of you, Jesus.  We didn’t care for anyone near so important as you.  We just took care of some of the people down the road.” 

Jesus then told them, that when they took care of those people down the road, they took care of Jesus.  When they took care of regular old unimportant human beings, they lived out the Kingdom of God.  They lived God’s eternal life when they fulfilled the needs of others. 

That’s where Jesus was found, in the needs of those asking for help.  That’s where eternal life is found:  human need met by human love.  We are meant to depend upon each other.  We are meant to lower our defenses and actually ask others for help when we need it.  We are meant to be vulnerable, like little children.   

It is to ones such as children, Jesus said, that the kingdom of God belongs.  Ones like children inherit eternal life. 

Remember last week’s story, when Jesus was in a house, and the disciples were there, trying to keep a bunch of kids away from Jesus, and Jesus said, no, let the kids come, for the Kingdom of God belongs ones like these kids.  In fact, you need to receive the kingdom of God, like a little kid, Jesus taught. 

Now imagine if in that house where Jesus was, there were thousands of breakable or highly polished items that little fingers weren’t allowed to touch.  Imagine the homeowner saying, “um, Jesus, it’s great that you like kids and all, but I’ve got a lot of nice stuff here.  Those kids have got to go.”  The things we own end up owning us.

Jesus didn’t seem to have a whole lot of stuff.  He was so unencumbered that when a bunch of kids came up to him seeking his blessing, he didn’t think twice – sure, let the kids come, let me bless them.  The kingdom of God is not about power or status or wealth.  The kingdom of God is about loving people, about weakness, about needing one another, about not being self sufficient. 

We can end up possessed by our possessions every bit as much as the man from Gerasa from whom Jesus cast out a legion of demons was possessed by those demons.  I don’t know that we need to throw all of our possessions into a lake, like Jesus did with the demons who entered the herd of swine and rushed into the lake. 

We do need to break the grip that our possessions have on us.  We do need to seek wholeness and security in people, rather than in stuff.  We do need to be vulnerable enough allow our needs to be met by people, not by things.  When we expose our needs and allow our needs to be met, Jesus is there.  God’s kingdom is there.  Eternal life is there.  Amen.

Sinners In the Arms of A Loving God

Brad Sullivan

Proper 22, Year B

October 4, 2015

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12

Mark 10:2-16

Sinners In the Arms of A Loving God

Jesus’ teaching on divorce was more than the Pharisees wanted to hear and more than Jesus’ disciples wanted to hear.  The disciples were even so miffed by it that they were kinda in a bad mood afterwards, so when some kids came up they were like W.C. Fields, “Go way kid, you bother me.” 

All they really heard was “divorce is bad, don’t do it,” and if that’s all we take from the Gospel today, “divorce is bad, don’t do it,” then we’re missing Jesus’ teaching.  It would also be easy to say, “hmmm, but we allow divorce; we allow for resurrection after the death of a marriage…I guess we’ll just put this passage out of our minds.”  Neither response takes Jesus seriously.  Neither response takes seriously Jesus’ teaching, his love for us, our broken and sinful nature, and the depths of God’s grace. 

Of course Jesus said not to get divorced.  In marriage, the two people become one flesh.  They are united body, soul, and life.  In adultery, that unity is ripped apart.  In divorce, that unity is ripped apart.  Flesh is torn, there is blood, and the unity made in the marriage is killed.  And so we need God’s grace.

We need God’s grace because some marriages should end.  Sometimes the unity has been destroyed long before there is a divorce.  Then we need God’s grace to heal after that tearing apart in divorce.  We need God’s grace to heal.  We need God’s to be reconciled.  We need God’s grace to eventually trust another if we’re going to seek remarriage after divorce, and then we need God’s grace to be brave enough to remarry. 

Is there any question that we need God’s grace?  I need God’s grace every day when I’m not the father my kids need me to be, when I’m not the husband Kristin needs me to be, when I’m not the priest y’all need me to be.  Every day, I need God’s grace.  Anyone else need God’s grace every single day?

We heard in Hebrews today, “What are human beings that God cares about us?”  Sometimes we might wonder, “why would he care for us?” 

-          We’re people that kill each other randomly.  We had another shooting at another school campus last week.  Yet again, young people were killed randomly, their parents never to see them again.  Yet again, social media was rife with people arguing for stricter gun laws and other people arguing for more guns in peoples’ hands 

-          We’re people who often seek our own temporary happiness at the expense of others.

-          We’re people with bad tempers who shout and get angry and have a hard time forgiving...I’m talking about myself here. 

-          We’re also deeply loving people who seek and desire connection with one another more than anything else on earth.

-          We’re kind people.

-          We’re people who need to cut things off or out of our lives in order to live the way of Jesus, to live lives in which we seek every day to love God and to love people.

-          We’re people who sacrifice at times our joy and fun for the sake of others.

-          We’re people who get so shaken and saddened by tragedy of people we don’t even know, that we cry to the heavens, “how long, O Lord, how long?”

What are human beings that God cares for us?  God’s grace tells us that we are people who are beloved.  God’s grace tells us that after a death, there is resurrection.  God’s grace tells us that we are fallen and broken and we hurt one another and we hurt ourselves, and God still loves us.  God’s grace tells us that he has redeemed our sins and our hurts, that Jesus has taken them all and redeemed them and turned them into his blessedness for our sake.  God’s grace tells us that we are sinners in the arms of a loving God. 

We try our darnedest to live well, to do the right thing, and then we mess up and sin and hurt each other, and God forgives us and blesses us, and offers us new life.  Then when we continue to sin and hurt each other, God continues to forgive and bless us and offer us new life.  God’s grace given to us through Jesus tells us that God is not interested in raging against us and killing us for our sins.  Rather, God wants to heal us from the pain and destruction our sins cause.  As Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber said, we believe in a God, “who from cross did not even lift a finger to condemn the enemy but instead said I would rather die than be in the sin accounting business anymore.” 

    

God is in the grace business, and so we need to take seriously our sin.  We need to take seriously our sin, because without doing so, we delude ourselves into thinking that we don’t especially need God’s grace, or that we only need it once we’re dead.  We don’t think that “were good” because we believe in Jesus and so we’ll go to heaven when we die.  That’s not taking sin seriously.  Simply saying “I’m good because I have Jesus,” leaves us blind to the pain we cause rather than leaving us healed and redeemed by God’s grace. 

In order to take grace seriously, we need to take our sin seriously.  It’s easy to take other peoples’ sin seriously.  We rally and rant, and rail, and know what the right thing to do is and know we’re on the right side of an issue, but I’ve found that sometimes, my being on the right side of an issue is more about me being right and guarding my own righteousness than it is about actually caring for and loving other people.  I may think I’m right and others are wrong, but as Bishop Doyle pointed out last week, Jesus didn’t say to cut someone else’s hand off if it causes them to sin.  He said cut your hand off if it causes you to sin.  Sever the behaviors within you that cause harm to yourself and others. 

Then rely on God’s grace.  Rely on God’s grace because God’s grace says that we mess up and harm each other, that we are broken and sinful, and yet God still calls us beloved.  God’s grace says the world is terribly broken with war, and tragedy, and terrible suffering, and God will ultimately redeem all of it.  God’s grace says he would rather redeem us and heal us from our sins that punish us for our sins.  God’s grace says his purpose is to restore all of creation, and he invites us to join him in that work of redemption.  God’s grace says that flawed as we are, we are beloved, and we are enough to join him in the work of redemption.  God’s grace says that unlike Jonathan Edwards’ 1741 sermon, we are not “sinners in the hands of an angry God.”  We are sinners, but we’re sinners in the arms of a loving God.  Amen.

Like Water for Those Dying of Thirst

Brad Sullivan

Proper 20, Year B

September 20, 2015

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

Mark 9:30-37

Jesus’ disciples must have been pretty darn disillusioned and disheartened by the end of today’s Gospel.  Jesus had just told them for the second time that he was going to die.  This was not long after they had failed to cast a demon out of a little boy.  “Why could we not cast out the demon?”  They asked Jesus.  He replied that the demon could only come out through prayer.  Perhaps the disciples were relying on themselves and their supposed power, rather than relying on God.

So, they’ve got this question of power and greatness already brewing.  Then, when Jesus told them that he was going to die and on the third day rise again, they still didn’t quite understand, at least not about him rising again after three days, but they did seem to understand that he would die because they seemed to be working on a succession plan.  They were arguing about who was the greatest among them, and in light of Jesus’ declaration that he was going to die, it seems that they were trying to figure out who was going to take over once Jesus was gone.  Who would be the new messiah?

They didn’t think of messiah in terms of being God’s co-eternal Son who spoke the world into existence.  They were thinking of messiah in terms of military might and a king like David to drive the Romans out and conquer everybody else.  To this, Jesus replied that they needed to be last of all and servant of all.  Welcome a child in my name, and you welcome me.  Welcome a child in my name, and you welcome God. 

Well that probably didn’t make a lot of sense to them.  We see children as wonderful, innocent, delightful, the apple of God’s eye.  We see Jesus dwelling within all of us, so if you welcome a child you welcome God, ok we get that.  I don’t think the disciples understood.  “God is all powerful and mighty,” the disciples were likely thinking, “and children are not.  How can welcoming a child be anything like welcoming God?” 

Again, they were likely looking for Jesus to be a messiah to rule through military victory.  They were wondering who among them was mighty enough to carry his mantle.  Children weren’t going to win battles or rule, and so we have the disciples’ disillusionment.  Rather than glorious victory, Jesus is telling them that the way of discipleship is the way of the cross, the way of Jesus’ crucifixion, and that welcoming the least important in their society was like welcoming God.  Was God even mighty anymore?

In thinking about Jesus’ words about the cross, his teaching that welcoming children is like welcoming God, and his steady march toward Jerusalem and crucifixion, I thought of a lyric from Leonard Cohen’s song, Hallelujah. “Love is not a victory march.  It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah.” 

If only following Jesus meant victory over every battle and struggle we have, but it doesn’t.  We fail, we fall short, we know defeat.  We know the cold and broken Hallelujah that comes in those moments.  As Jesus’ disciples, we don’t always choose or even seek victory.  We seek to serve, to heal, to restore the brokenness of the world.  We seek to love, but love is not a victory march. 

Love, Jesus teaches comes from being like children.  If you want to be great, Jesus said, then be least of all.  Children were least of all, and yet he taught that welcoming a child was like welcoming God. 

Children love unreservedly.  They’ll abandon what they’re doing when they see someone they love in order to run over to that person, sometimes shouting with delight.  Children trust.  When children love and trust their parents, it takes a lot for them to lose that trust, far less than it takes adults to lose our trust in people.  Children also forgive.  They’ll be terribly upset with another kid one minute and playing joyfully with that same kid the next. 

You really want to be great and mighty, Jesus was telling his disciples, then forget about power and might.  Greatness in God’s kingdom comes from loving deeply and unreservedly.  Risk opening your heart to others, opening your heart to love.  Love is not a victory march.  Love is risky.

To love another person means that we might not be loved back. It means letting ourselves be naked and vulnerable to another person.  Letting our hearts and our souls be bare to someone else and knowing full well that we might get hurt.  That is the risk of relationship.  We know how to hurt those we love.  We know just what to say to our spouses to tear them down. We know the things that our children fear and the things that will break their hearts.

Every day we make a choice to go out into the world either letting our heart be vulnerable or hiding it away.  Hiding it away is safer and easier, but it is also not taking the risk of being loved back.  Not taking the risk of letting someone else cherish us, is a life that lacks the depth of love that God intends for us to live.  Risk love in this world, and live God’s kingdom.

If you really want to be great and mighty in God’s kingdom, then trust in God.  You may have felt let down before when things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to.  You may have felt the sting of a cold and broken Hallelujah, but continue to trust in him.  Trust in God doesn’t mean we trust him to make outcomes happen how we want them to.  That’s not trusting God.  That’s directing God, something we’ve all probably done at times.  Trusting in God means we don’t necessarily know the outcome, and choose to put our trust and faith in God anyway, realizing we are little children, and he is God. 

If you really want to be great and mighty in God’s kingdom, then forgive, over and over.  Forgive people.  Forgive yourself.  Offer forgiveness like water to people dying of thirst for our brokenness kills us every bit as surely as lack of water.  In the marriage ceremony, we have a prayer for the couple which can really apply for everyone and anyone.  “Make [our lives] together a sign of Christ’s love to this sinful and broken world, that unity may overcome estrangement, forgiveness heal guilt, and joy conquer despair. 

Risk love, trust, and forgiveness, Jesus told his disciples. Risk facing the cross.  It may not be a victory march.  It may be a cold and broken Hallelujah, but it is a Hallelujah nonetheless.  Amen.

We've Got More than Enough for the Dogs Under Our Table

Brad Sullivan

Proper 18, Year B

September 6, 2015

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

James 2:1-10, (11-13), 14-17

Mark 7:24-37

Jesus didn’t want to heal a little girl who was possessed by a demon simply because she wasn’t Jewish.  That’s a hard point for us to accept, and this is a difficult passage to wrestle with.  Many have said that Jesus was just testing the Syrophoenician woman’s faith, and that he really intended to heal the woman’s daughter all along, but that doesn’t really seem to follow the story. 

Jesus had traveled north of Israel to the region of Tyre.  This was gentile country, and the woman is named as a gentile.  There was no reason to test her faith.  I think we can take Jesus’ dismissal of the woman on face value.  “Let the children be fed first,” Jesus said, “for it is not fair to take the children’s food and feed it to the dogs.”  I was sent for Israel, Jesus told her and that’s not you.  Jesus didn’t want to heal the woman.  She wasn’t his problem.  Don’t ask me to heal you, Jesus was saying, have your little demigod idol thing heal you. 

Then, Jesus healed her anyway.  Jesus dismissed and insulted her, and the woman does not respond with anger, but takes his insult because her love for her daughter was greater than her pride.  I think in that moment Jesus saw this woman’s humanity.  No longer was she a gentile who wasn’t his problem.  She was a woman and a mother who loved her daughter. 

I don’t think that’s sinful on Jesus’ part.  He likely grew up being told that the gentiles were not their people and not their problem.  So, that’s probably what Jesus believed.  Then he met the Syrophoenician woman and realized that she was part of humanity.  No longer was she not his problem, and no longer was he here only for Israel, but for all mankind.

There has been an ongoing humanitarian crisis in Syria which has been growing since the uprising in 2011 aimed at ousting president Assad.  Since then, civil war has engulfed the country, both sides have targeted civilians and used them as shields, and the self-proclaimed Islamic state has taken territory and begun their brutal tactics of maiming and killing Christians, Muslims, and anyone else they deem unworthy. 

This has left over 11 million people displaced from their homes, and over 4 million Syrian refugees have fled the country, seeking asylum in surrounding nations and even up into Europe.  The crisis of refugees has caught the world’s attention recently because of pictures of little children who died trying to escape, their bodies washing up on the shores of Greece.  Folks leaving Syria said it was worth the risk because they were dead there anyway. 

This may seem like it’s not our problem.  It’s a world away.  There are so many people here who are in need.  Why give our help and our prayers to folks fleeing Syria when there’s so much to do here?  It’s not our problem, but then like Jesus with the Syrophoenician woman, we eventually see their humanity and realize it is our problem.  They are people, and as Body of Christ, we are called to seek and serve Christ in all persons.  We’ll also find, as Jesus did, that there is more than enough help to go around. 

After Jesus healed the Syrophoenician woman’s daughter, he healed a deaf man in the largely gentile region of the Decapolis, just east of Israel.  We don’t know if this man was Jewish or Gentile.  Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.  Jesus healed him.  Not long after that, Jesus multiplied food so that from enough for a couple of people he fed 5000 people.  There was plenty of food to go around and plenty of food left over, crumbs enough for all the dogs under the children’s table. 

While believing himself to be limited in his mission, Jesus found that his mission was not limited only to Israel, and he found that he had more than enough healing to go around.  As Jesus’ body, we too have more than enough to go around.  The Syrian people are fleeing the threat of death from three different armies in their country, each of which have shielded themselves behind civilians and targeted civilians.  We have more than enough to help people this humanitarian crisis, which is one of the worst we’ve seen.    

We can give to organizations like World Vision who are helping to provide food and shelter for Syrians fleeing their country.  We can petition our government to allow more refugees into America.  We can learn more about the crisis and learn about other ways to help.  We can pray for the people of Syria, the refugees, those taking them in, and those in danger of dying during their travels. 

Perhaps more than pray for them a few times, we may still not really want to do much to help.  There’s too much to do here.  It’s not our problem, but even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.  We may want to do more to help here instead, but there’s no reason why we can’t do both.  As Jesus found after he healed the Syrophoenician woman’s daughter, he still had plenty left to heal a deaf man and then feed 5000 people with 5 loaves of bread and two fish.  We may just find that if we give help to Syrian refugees, that there’s also a deaf man who needs healing here, or 5000 people who need food. 

We have more than enough healing and resources to go around, and like Jesus, we find that people half a world away are our problem because they are human beings made in God’s image, and through Jesus, we have more than enough love to give and we have more than enough help to give.  Amen.

Deep, Honoring, Passionate Love

Brad Sullivan

Proper 17, Year B

August 30, 2015

Saint Mark's Episcopal Church, Bay City, TX

Song of Solomon 2:8-13

James 1:17-27

Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

“Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.”  We got to hear from the Song of Solomon today, a series of poems and writings of passionate, unabashed love, the kind of love experienced between a newly married couple on their honeymoon and a long-married couple for whom that passion and unabashed love remains.  Interestingly, God is nowhere mentioned in the entire book of Song of Solomon.  Many in the church have tried to allegorize Song of Solomon to make it about Jesus’ love for the church, and that’s a valid interpretation, God’s passionate love for humanity. 

If we stop there, however, and don’t allow this book also to be about what it truly is, a writing about passionate love between people, we’d be missing out on some of the beauty of this writing and the beauty of the love we have as passionate, sexual people.  Passionate love and even sexual desire that men and women feel for each other is part of the image of God in which we were made, and ask any newlywed, it’s a good thing. 

The lovers in Song of Solomon in the passage we heard today are so in love, that once they are together, everything in the world seems beautiful.  It’s spring time.  There are flowers and turtledoves, figs ripe on the vine.  There are beautiful scents in the air, sounds of birds chirping, not a mosquito around, and it seems as if all creation was put there by God just for the love and enjoyment of the two of them. 

I’d venture to say that a lot of us have had those feelings of being so in love that it feels like every sunrise and sunset were given by God just for you and your beloved.  Beautiful, blissful creation that is made by God and given for the enjoyment of just two people who are passionately and unabashedly in love sounds an awful lot like the Garden of Eden. 

Far from sinful, the passionate love the man and woman in this passage helped them love creation more.  They seem at peace with the world, as though the love they have for each other is going to pour out onto the world around them.  Passionate and unabashed love is far from sinful, far from anything to be ashamed about.  Passionate and unabashed love is our Edenic state, how God made us to be, part of the image of God in which we were made. 

How do we then get from the good joy and beauty of the passionate love seen in the Song of Solomon to the church sometimes in our history teaching that sex is basically wrong and bad; in a marriage it’s ok, but even then, kinda questionable?  Well, as we are no doubt aware, our desires can sometimes run amuck. 

Desire run amuck is largely what Jesus is talking about when he lists some of the evil intentions that can come from the human heart:  fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly.  These are basically desire run amuck, desire for things and people, desire for people as things, without regard those people.  Jesus’ list of vices are all ways that people gratify their own desire, regardless of the cost to others. 

Fornication is sex for personal gratification, without truly honoring and deeply loving yourself or the other.  It is desire run amuck.  It doesn’t really bring about that deep, passionate love for each other and for all creation, such that every sunrise and sunset is made just for those two people.  I very much doubt that when someone steals something that they really want, that they suddenly notice the beauty of the flowers and the chirping birds, the love and beauty of creation surrounding and blessing them.

From the beginning, when Adam and Eve decided they desired a piece of fruit more than they desired God and each other, our sin, our missing the mark, has been our desire run amuck, when we have desired things and even people as things more than we have desired true, deep, passionate love for God and each other.  True, deep, passionate love not only desires the other, but also honors the other, and when we have that true, deep, passionate, mutual love that not only desires but honors, then all of creation sings. 

Such passionate mutual love that not only desires but also honors is a lot of the Kingdom of God that Jesus came to bring about.  That’s in rather sharp contrast to the Pharisees and the Scribes being angry at Jesus because he and his disciples didn’t follow the traditions of the elders in not washing their hands appropriately.  These traditions of the elders were oral tradition based on the laws of Moses.  These traditions were intended to help people remember their deep honoring and love of God.  They just don’t seem to have been overly effective and were certainly not worth getting angry over. 

We have a lot of traditions in the Episcopal Church too, intended to help us draw near to the mystery of God, and open our hearts to God’s passionate love for us.  Some of us follow and understand these traditions really well, and some of us don’t.  Over the years, I’ve known folks would be absolutely incensed if one of the rituals and traditions in our worship didn’t go quite right.  They loved worship and traditions so much that they were angry at people when the worship and traditions didn’t go quite right.  How many parents have I talked to, fearful because their children made noise and were fidgety during church?  I tell them time and again, be not afraid.  Children can be kinda noisy and fidgety, and here in worship is where they belong. 

As Jesus pointed out to the Pharisees and the Scribes, being angry with people because traditions and worships don’t go quite right is rather backwards.  Our traditions and worship are meant to help us love each other and love God with ever greater passion, not the other way around.

We were made to see each other and all creation as beloved of God, and not just beloved, but deeply, passionately desired by, honored, and beloved of God.  We were made to see God, creation, and each other, through the eyes of newlywed lovers, so passionately desirous for each other, that all the world is beautiful.  We were made to live the passionate, desirous, honoring love which we heard in the Song of Solomon.  “Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.”  Amen.