Second Sunday in Lent

Mark 8:31-38

In Isaiah 55 the Lord declares, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways…. (Isaiah 55:8)

Often we recognize the truth that “the ways of God are different from the way of the world” when there are situations that are beyond our understanding – those things that happen that we ascribe to mystery. [i]  But it also true about the ways we live in the world and how we make meaning of our experiences.

When Jesus called the disciples to leave their nets and follow him (Mark 1), they responded to his authority and power, but they still didn’t really know who Jesus was.

Throughout the first half of Mark’s gospel they are learning along the way as they witness Jesus healing, performing miracles and teaching in parables. 

In the verses just before today’s gospel, they have gone into the villages of Caesarea Philippi. The region was named for the Roman emperor Caesar and for Herod Philip, son of Herod the Great, and ruler of the northeastern quarter of Judea. The geography matters because it locates Jesus and the disciples in what today is the Golan Heights, “a few kilometers from the Lebanese border [where] the view to the south stretches across Galilee toward Jerusalem.”[ii]

As Mark begins this central section of his gospel, Jesus and the disciples literally, and figuratively, look back across the territory they have covered in the Galilean ministry and look ahead to the road to Jerusalem.

And it’s at this point in Mark’s gospel, that the text says, “Jesus began to teach them” about the suffering, rejection and death that awaited him. (v. 31)

Up until this point, the disciples’ understanding of Jesus as the Messiah was still oriented around things that were familiar to them. Messiah was a political term that referred to the anointed one, a title given to King David and later to Cyrus the Persian, who liberated Israel from Babylon. “Messiah” was a sign of kingship and royal triumph. [iii] “The great hope of the Israelite people [in the first century] was freedom from the Roman overlords.”[iv] That freedom was to be brought by the Messiah.

When Peter rebukes Jesus, he is clinging to his understanding of what it means that Jesus is the Messiah and what it means to follow him and be a disciple. He doesn’t want to let go of his understanding of who the Messiah is. He doesn’t want to hear what Jesus is saying. But, as Jesus says, his mind is set not on divine things but on human things. (v. 34)

Remember the Lord’s words in Isaiah? “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways…. (Isaiah 55:8)

And Jesus presses on. Dismissing Peter, he calls the crowds to him and speaks to them and all of the disciples, inviting each one to take up their cross and follow him.

Importantly, “denying ourselves” and “taking up our cross” does not mean demeaning ourselves or suffering abuse from other people. Each of us is created in the imago dei - the image of God - and inherently have dignity and gifts that God has given us, and God desires us to fully live into who God has created us to be.[v]

So, what does it mean to deny ourselves and take up our cross?

At the conclusion of today’s gospel, Jesus defines what we now call the theology of the cross. He says:

35 For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel's will save it.

36 For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul?

37 For what can a man give in return for his soul?

38 For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of Man also be ashamed.... (Mark 8:35-38 ESV)

A theology of the cross says that following Jesus is not about what I want or desire. It is always about keeping our priorities aligned with God’s commandments to love God and love our neighbor.[vi](Mark 12)

A theology of the cross says that following Jesus is not about power, prestige or position; instead it is a call to service, suffering and sacrifice.[vii]

A theology of the cross says that it is in following Jesus that we find our life, our soul or self. As Saint Paul writes in his letter to the Philippians, “I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ.” (Phil. 3:8)

And lastly, a theology of the cross says that we must not be ashamed of following Jesus or of our obedience to God. Faith is not meant to be hidden away, even or perhaps especially, when it means saying things that are not popular.

We must not be afraid of death, because the promise in Jesus’ words here is that although Jesus will be killed, he will also rise again. (v. 31)

We love and serve a God of resurrection, a life-giving and redeeming God, whose thoughts are not our thoughts, and whose ways are not our ways. The God we meet in the person of Jesus leads us and stays with us even in the shadow of the cross and when we are clinging to what we want.

Thanks be to God.

[i] Michael Rogness. Commentary on Mark 8:31-38, Workingpreacher.org, Luther Seminary.

[ii] Lamar Williamson. Mark. 151.

[iii] Pulpit Fiction (podcast).

[iv] Rogness.

[v] ibid.

[vi] Rogness.

[vii] Johannes Nissen. New Testament and Mission. 44.

First Sunday in Lent

Mark 1:12-13

For me, the word “wilderness” conjures images of the deep forests of the Appalachian mountains. Maybe for others it evokes memories of giant sequoias, red rock canyons or lush rainforests. But when we read about the wilderness in Scripture, it isn’t what I imagine; instead, the wilderness of Judea was less hospitable and more treacherous - a barren region between the Dead Sea and the Hebron mountains, more like the Mojave desert that stretches across the southwest.

Understanding what assumptions we bring to our reading of Scripture and asking questions about the text are always good ideas, especially when it’s a passage that we think we know because we hear it so often. We heard this same account of Jesus’ baptism when the season after Epiphany began six weeks ago and then we heard it echoed in the Transfiguration just last Sunday. But today I am going to focus on what happens after Jesus' baptism, when he is in the wilderness.

Of course, Mark doesn’t give us a lot to work with. The temptation of Jesus is only two verses long in this gospel. Unlike Matthew and Luke’s longer narratives, Mark never says that Jesus fasts. We don’t have any details about Satan’s hijinks here. Mark doesn’t include any of the banter between Satan and Jesus; in fact, Jesus doesn’t even speak in Mark’s account.

One detail Mark does include that isn’t in Matthew or Luke, is that “[Jesus] was with the wild beasts. In my imagination, again, I want this to be like the peaceful kingdom in Isaiah 11 where the prophet says, "The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them." (Isaiah 11:6)

However, it’s more likely in the biblical narrative that the “wild beasts” were just that - untamed beasts of the field or beasts of prey that would have threatened Jesus’s safety in the wilderness. They were less the friendly talking animals from the Chronicles of Narnia and more like the ravenous dinosaurs in Jurassic Park.

In ancient cultures, the wilderness was symbolic. It marked the boundary of civilization. Like Scripture’s use of the sea to symbolize chaos, the wilderness represents the domain of Satan and those forces that are hostile to God; it is a place that is not bound by tradition, a place where the rules don’t apply. And so, in these two verses, Mark sets up a cosmic struggle between, on one hand, the divine - the Holy Spirit who drove Jesus into the wilderness and the angels who minister to him while he is there – and, on the other, Satan and all evil powers and creatures.

Mark says the Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness. The Greek actually is the same word used to describe Jesus casting out demons in all three of the synoptic gospels. There is an intensity in this action of casting Jesus out into the wilderness that we don’t hear in Matthew and Luke where the Spirit merely leads Jesus into the wilderness.

And then we have the imagery of forty days. Forty days is a refrain we hear in the story of the rains before the Flood (Genesis 7:12), again when Moses climbs Mt. Sinai (Exodus 24:18), when the Philistine Goliath taunts Israel (1 Samuel 17:6) and when Elijah travels to Horeb to anoint Elisha (1 Kings 19:4). God is present in each of these Old Testament stories, guiding and guarding the faithful.

Jesus is never alone in the wilderness here either. God doesn’t throw Jesus to the wolves to be destroyed; instead the period of temptation is a test of dependence upon God. God meets him there and the angels are ministering to him.

Having triumphed over evil, now Jesus stands at the threshold of his public ministry.

For all of us this Lenten season, we are also standing at a threshold. On Ash Wednesday, we acknowledged our human frailty and confessed our dependence upon God. The cross is the place where me meet God when we realize we cannot live in accordance with God’s commands, when we recognize our human limits, but the Good News is God doesn’t ever leave us there in our despair or sadness.

God meets us, and raises us up to new life, inviting us to cross the threshold into something new.

The late Mary Oliver’s poem titled “Praying” describes the invitation this way:

It doesn't have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try
to make them elaborate, this isn't
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.[i]

What threshold are you standing at and where might God meet you?

Oliver invites us to cross a threshold into thanksgiving and a silence where we can hear God speak. In Psalms for Praying, Nan Merrill rewrites Psalm 85 to say, “Listen in the silent chapel of your heart.” Maybe that’s the threshold you cross this Lent, to open your heart and listen to hear God speak and silence the noise that drowns out the Holy One.

Or maybe Lent is inviting you into new rhythms and practices to draw near to God, to shed the habits and temptations that have prevented you from spending time with God in the past.

Or perhaps you find yourself in the wilderness or reflecting on a wilderness experience you’ve had in the past. A place where you felt deserted, overlooked or disregarded. A time that disoriented you or challenged you, calling you to dependence on God.

This Lent, may you have confidence and assurance that God meets you wherever you are and remains with you.

Amen.

[i] Mary Oliver. “Praying” from Thirst.

Transfiguration Sunday

Mark 9:2-9

I remember, when I was in seminary, reading the instructions that God gave Moses for the construction of the tabernacle and the ark of the covenant in Exodus and being awed by the precision and detail included. Listen now to just a few verses from Exodus 26:

31 You shall make a curtain of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and of fine twisted linen; it shall be made with cherubim skillfully worked into it. 32 You shall hang it on four pillars of acacia overlaid with gold, which have hooks of gold and rest on four bases of silver. (Exodus 26:31-32)

And later in Exodus, the author describes how the workers followed each instruction according to what God had said. I just marveled at the discipline and commitment they demonstrated.

Even so, it can be hard to see why twenty-first century Christians should care today about how many cubits, loops, clasps and pegs were included in these holy spaces. Just like it can be hard to understand why we hear the story of the Transfiguration every year on the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday.

And yet, every year when we are on the cusp of Lent, we hear this story from the gospels where Jesus takes three of his disciples up on a mountaintop and there they witness his transformation and the appearance of Moses and Elijah with him and they hear God speak, declaring, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” (Mark 9:7)

And we are meant to recall the words spoken to Jesus at the beginning of his ministry, at his baptism in the river Jordan by his cousin John, when the Spirit descended like a dove on Jesus, and a voice came from heaven, saying "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." (Mark 1:10-11)

But more than a way to connect us back to the events at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, that we heard on the first Sunday after Epiphany, the Transfiguration texts help us connect how our faith is grounded in the tradition of ancient Israel.

Contrary to the Marcion heresy espoused in the mid second century AD that argued the teachings of Christ were incompatible with the Old Testament or even the criticism we sometimes hear today the Old Testament portrays a different God than the one we know in Jesus Christ, the God of Moses and Elijah is also the God we know in Jesus.

I hadn’t thought much about that common ancestry before seminary, but my Hebrew professor emphasized that the Old Testament is not something to hold separate and apart from the New Testament. The stories of Moses and Elijah and Jesus are all parts of one story of redemption.

And knowing those stories helps us understand the significance of the mountaintop experience Mark tells us about in today’s gospel.

If you know any Bible stories, you probably know about Moses. We hear his story in the book of Exodus. He was the baby found in a reed basket by Pharaoh’s daughter and raised in his palace. He was the shepherd whom God called from a burning bush while he was tending his flock. (Exodus 3) God told Moses to go to Egypt and bring the Israelites out of slavery under Pharaoh and to deliver them to Canaan. During their escape, Moses separated the Red Sea and the Israelites passed through to safety, but the waters returned and drowned Pharaoh’s army who are in pursuit. (Exodus 14) The Israelites grumbled while they were in the wilderness, complaining to Moses and even forgetting about Moses when God summoned him to go up Mount Sinai and he was gone longer than they like. But Moses didn’t stay on the mountaintop; he returned to the people and after forty years of wandering, Moses and the Israelites reached the Jordan. Moses died on Mount Pisgah in Moab, and God gave Joshua the mantle of prophetic leadership and commanded him to lead the Israelites into Canaan.

Elijah’s story may not be as familiar. He was a prophet who lived during the ninth century BCE, who was called by God and sent to lead Israel back to God after their kings promoted idolatry. In First Kings we hear how Elijah went to Zarephath and met a widow and her son whom he healed, and we see the assembly of prophets at Mt. Carmel where the God of Israel prevailed over Baal and Asherah. And then we hear how Elijah escaped from Jezebel’s armies who were pursuing him to kill him and how God then appeared to Elijah, not in the wind, the earthquake or the fire, but in the silence. And after God spoke to Elijah, God commanded him to go back through the wilderness of Damascus to God’s people. And, according to God’s word he has anointed Elisha to be a prophet after him.

Today’s reading from Second Kings tells us the story of the end of Elijah’s life. Maybe you remember that a chariot of fire and horses of fire appeared, and Elijah was taken in a whirlwind into heaven. (2 Kings 2:11)

Here the writer of Second Kings is telling his audience what happened just before that spectacle took place, when the Lord was about to take Elijah. (2 Kings 2:1) Just as knowing the stories of Moses and Elijah help us understand Jesus, hearing this story helped the Israelites make meaning from Elijah’s story.

In this part of the story, Elijah and his disciple Elisha traveled to Gilgal, to Bethel, to Jericho and to the Jordan - sacred and storied places in Israel’s history. Gilgal was where the Israelites camped after they crossed into Canaan, Bethel was where Jacob met God in a dream; Jericho was where the Israelites were victorious over the Canaanites and the Jordan is that place where they crossed over from the wilderness into the promised land.  

In this story, at each place, a company of prophets questioned Elisha, telling him that Elijah would be taken away from him but Elisha didn’t run away. He stayed.

And, at the Jordan, Elijah separated the waters so that they could cross on dry land out of Canaan back to the wilderness. After they crossed over, Elijah was taken up in the whirlwind, and the text says that Elisha “picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back.”  (2 Kings 2:13) Elisha is like Joshua, the inheritor, receiving the prophetic mantle.

So when we hear today’s gospel and see Moses and Elijah on the mountaintop with Jesus, we are witnessing what the others disciples saw on that day: Jesus being revealed as the fulfillment of the law and prophets who came before him.

In Epiphany, Jesus has discovered who he is; the disciples have learned what it means to follow him; and now the through Jesus and his disciples, the world is learning what it means to have a Messiah.[i]

Throughout the biblical narrative, the people of God are never left without a voice.[ii]

The God of Abraham and Jacob, the God of Moses and Elijah is the same God who we know in the person of Jesus, whose life, death and resurrection restores us to life with God, who loves us and forgives us and draws us to God. And it is this same loving God who sends us out into the world to proclaim the good news of Jesus Christ, to do the work of calling people to God, and accompanying each other in the wilderness places we experience. As Peter says, “It is good for us to be here” (Mark 9:5) but we cannot stay on the mountaintops. We have to go into the valleys and towns and be with people to love and serve one another.

Amen.

[i] Lectionary Lab Live podcast

[ii] Pulpit Fiction podcast

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Mark 1:29-39

Today’s gospel is actually the next chapter of the story that began with last week’s gospel. Verse 29 says, “As soon they left the synagogue,” so we know it’s still the Sabbath but there are some things we don’t know.

The first thing I wish we knew is the name of the woman whom Jesus heals, but she’s only identified as Simon’s mother in law, and we never learn her name. It’s not surprising. The majority of women referenced in the Bible are anonymous and silent, never being named and never speaking.

I want to know who and where her daughter is. Is Simon married or perhaps is he widowed and caring for his mother-in-law?

I also wonder who else is in the household? Mark says, “Immediately they told Jesus about the woman ill with fever” but we don’t know who is included in “they.” Were there household servants? Other family? We don’t know.

And finally, we don’t know how sick she was or how long she had suffered. We don’t know whether the fever was a symptom of biological and medical disease, or if she believed, as was common at that time, that the fever was a sign of some social or cultural failing, the consequence of some undisclosed sin.[i]

What we do know is that, in Mark’s gospel, the very first miracles that Jesus, the Holy One of God, does are acts that restore people to their community and family. He has exorcised demons and healed the sick and he’s done both of these miracles on the Sabbath.

I don’t think Jesus breaks the Sabbath out of disregard for the law, but out of a commitment to a higher priority of justice and mercy, rooted in love. This story begs the question Jesus gives to the religious leaders in Luke 6 when Jesus asks,

 9 … “is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” (Luke 6:9)

Jesus gives us new life, united with him, in faith.

Mark says, Jesus took this woman by the hand, and lifted her up, or raised her. The Greek here is the same word for resurrection. Her healing isn’t the result of anything she has done or said. Faith is not mentioned in this miracle story. It is only the presence of Jesus that brings healing and rids her of her fever.

Healed by Jesus, the woman then begins to serve him and the others.

Unfortunately there have been times when this text has been misused to restrict women in the Church to submissive roles, but the word used here to describe the woman’s service is the same word used to describe the angels who ministered to Jesus, or waited on him, in the wilderness. (1:13)

For this woman, her healing restores her ability to live out her vocation, as a διάκονος or deacon who uses her spiritual gifts from God in the service of others.

Jesus raises us to new life, so that we will know the fullness or abundance of life God desires for each of us.

The hymn “Arise, Your Light Has Come!” is an Epiphany hymn that draws on passages from Isaiah including the verse that provides the refrain we are using right now in our weeknight prayer services: “Arise, your light has come. The Glory of the Lord is rising upon you”[ii] The hymn’s lyrics proclaim

The Spirit's call obey; show forth the glory of your God which shines on you today.

In our lives, using the gifts we have been given, we shine forth God’s glory and show God’s love and mercy to the people we meet.

We don’t know why Mark pairs these miracle stories together. Perhaps the gospel writer framed them as a glimpse into the day of the Messiah, or he wanted to demonstrate that Jesus’ saving power was for all people - men and women, young and old - or he wanted to illustrate that the power of the God in Jesus was effective not only in holy places, where a miracle might be expected, but also in common places like homes and neighborhoods. [iii]  Maybe all of the above.

Whatever his reason was, during this season after Epiphany when we remember that Christ send us, as his disciples and followers, to all nations, it feels important to remember that we don’t get to set limits on God’s saving action.

Our role is to share the good news of God’s love with all, trusting that the presence and power and grace of God will accomplish what God intends.

Reflecting on this short story of the healing of Simon’s mother in law – really just the first three verses of our Gospel today – I wonder, when have you experienced the healing power of Jesus’ presence? When has Jesus taken you by the hand and lifted you up?

Just this week, during a hospital shift I experienced this through a colleague’s presence and words. I had just led family members out of the hospital after spending time with them and their loved one in the emergency room, and I was weighed down by the heaviness of their worries when I crossed paths with my friend. We went together into the chapel and talked, reflecting on how Jesus had been present during that visit particularly. It was a good reminder for me that God calls us to particular people and situations and gifts us with what we need to be servants to those we encounter.

I pray you experience the healing power of Jesus’ presence in your own life and let the light of God shining on you reflect God’s mercy and love into the world.

Amen.

[i] Brian Stoffregen. Exegetical Notes on Mark 1:29-39.

[ii] Text: Ruth Duck, b. 1947. Text © 1992 GIA Publications, Inc., 7404 S. Mason Ave., Chicago, IL 60638. www.giamusic.com. 800.442.3358. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

[iii] Stoffregen.