Mark 1:21-28 "Us?"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!

         “This is the Good News about Jesus Christ”: That is how the Gospel of Mark begins.  And as we work our way through its first chapter, we learn that….

         Jesus searches for John the Baptist, finally finds him down on the shores of the Jordan River doing his thing, and is baptized:  Check.  Done!

         The Holy Spirit, looking suspiciously like a dove, shoos Jesus off, far from civilization, to face his fears for forty days in the wilderness:  Check.  Done!

         Jesus wanders by himself for a short while, recovering from his stint in isolation and honing his preaching skills on the message of his mentor, John the Baptist (“The Kingdom of God is coming! God is breaking into this crazy world of ours!  Repent!  You better turn your life around.”):  Check.  Done!

         Jesus decides that you cannot do ministry alone and so calls his first disciples, four illiterate fishermen named Simon, Andrew, James, and John. Soon thereafter, he digs up a tax collector nee Matthew, a penny pincher called Judas to handle the finances, and a half dozen other lowlifes to round out his cadre of followers to an even dozen:  Check.  Done!

         Jesus and his twelve buddies enter the synagogue in Capernaum where Jesus commences his first public sermon, only to have it disrupted by a blowhard know-it-all in the back pew:  Jesus’ ministry begins!

         Up to this point, everything has been preliminary.  Today we start to reflect on the actions Jesus took and the things he taught.  And we begin – ironically - in church. 

         The pews were filling up by the time Jesus and his followers arrived.  Some folks were yawning.  Others were just plain weary after a long week.  A few were in lousy moods because the kids were acting up, or their breakfast bagel was burned, or they had run out of cream cheese. 

         Frankly, most of them were there because it was a pious habit.  You went to the synagogue and sat through a predictable if not slightly boring liturgy. 

You listened to the scribes read from the Torah and then nitpick among themselves for a while on the details while you watched them perform. 

         You tried to keep your eyes open, but your mind wandered, and, before you knew it, you were figuring out what you could get done that afternoon before it got dark.  Statistics would say that you would remember 10% at best of what the scribes were talking about. 

         Then you sang an old song that your grandmother loved, filled with thee’s, thou’s, and words you never did know the meaning of to the accompaniment of a dying musical instrument that few people even took lessons on nowadays, and finally – finally - you headed home. 

         As Lutheran pastor, Paul Nielson noted, “They came to church for the same reason we do, to get some advise on how to be a better person or to deal with this or that problem we're having with someone or because we think it'll bring us good luck if we do or bad luck if we don't.”

         But this Sabbath was different.  Jesus showed up.  “Anything good happen in church today?”  “Let’s see!  Where to begin?  I mean, you should have been there! 

It was totally awesome, astounding, amazing!”  The Scarlet Letter Bible puts it this way:  “People were captivated with what he had to say because he had real conviction about it, rather than just droning on like the clergy.” 

         Today the congregation was not listening to someone whose authority came solely from his position, someone who demanded respect because of his or her title:  “I am the pastor and spiritual leader of this community….I am the Moderator, Treasurer, Head Trustee, Deacon Coordinator, and I expect you to do what I say…”

         There is a story about a governor of Massachusetts who was running for a second term.  One day, after a busy morning chasing votes (and no lunch), he arrived at a church barbecue. It was late afternoon, and he was famished. As he moved down the serving line, he held out his plate to the woman serving chicken. She put a piece on his plate and turned to the next person in line.

         "Excuse me," the Governor said, "do you mind if I have another piece of chicken?"

         "Sorry," the woman told him. "I'm supposed to give one piece of chicken to each person."

         "But I'm starved," the governor said.

         "Sorry," the woman said again. "Only one to a customer."

         The Governor was a modest and unassuming man, but he decided that this time he would throw a little weight around.

         "Do you know who I am?" he said. "I am the governor of this state."

         "Do you know who I am?" the woman said. "I'm the lady in charge of the chicken. Move along, mister."

         Jesus’ authority did not arise from his title or position (good thing too as he had no title or position).  No – people were captivated by what Jesus had to say because his mission was so reminiscent of God’s dream for the world from the beginning.  The clarity and strength of his vision were there for all the world to see – and it was all wrapped up in that deeply human and humble way of his that just seemed to enfold you and embrace you. 

         Jesus’ authority did not come from his ability to quote Scripture backwards and forwards and argue its minutest detail as the authority of the scribes did. The authority of this young, still wet-behind-the-ears rabbi came from his unswerving commitment to God’s passion for economic justice and peacemaking, which he embodied in his own life and beliefs and values. 

And the congregation was astounded – shocked – that church could be so relevant to their lives.  They had never seen the likes of it before.

         However, we all know that you cannot please all the people all the time, and so – not surprisingly – a deeply disturbed fellow in the back row stood up, interrupted Jesus, and asked a couple of questions with a distinct tone of belligerence: “What business do you have here with us, Jesus? Nazarene! I know what you’re up to! You’ve come to destroy us!.... You’ve come here to wreck our church, haven’t you, you holier-than-thou-think-you’re-a-big-shot!”

         Wow!  A confrontation!  Right there in church on a Sabbath morning!

         “Be quiet!  Shut up, and get out of here!” Jesus yelled back.  And the evil one left, shaking his fists, and screaming obscenities all the way out the door. (Scarlett Letter Bible)

         The congregation loved it!  I mean, who does not get totally into a clash of powerful forces?  New England Patriots….Seattle Seahawks.  The atmosphere was charged, and emotions ran high. All they were missing was the beer and the appetizers and the 52-inch flat screen TV.

         No wonder the congregation, sounding like a Greek chorus, was (as a couple of modern translations put it) “incredulous, buzzing with curiosity. ‘What’s going on here? A new teaching that does what it says? That takes hutzpah!  He shuts up defiling, demonic spirits and sends them packing!’ And so Jesus began to be famous around the region.”

         This story of Jesus’ first foray into ministry intrigues me primarily because of that disruptive backbencher.  I want to know more about him:  a man with an evil spirit, a man possessed of a demon, a man struggling with his own brokenness and in desperate need of healing.

         I am intrigued by the questions this troubled man asks:  What do you want with us, Jesus of Nazareth?  What do you have to do with us?  Are you here to destroy us?  Not – what do you want with me?  What do you have to do with me? Are you here to destroy me? 

         Us?  Who in God’s name is the “us” this crazy old coot is talking about?  Could it be that this angry old man, in his brokenness, so desperate for healing, is somehow like us?  Like you and like me?  Surely we too are broken in some way. Surely we too are in need of healing.  Surely we too do not want anyone to wreck the status quo, tweak our congregational culture, and rock the boat here in church.

         What do you want of us, Jesus of Nazareth?  What do you have to do with us?  What do you have to do with us sitting here in these pews, in this church – whether out of pious habit or hoping against hope that something will happen here to mend our brokenness, to heal our desperation, to motivate us to be transformed?  What do you want of us, Jesus of Nazareth?  What do you have to do with us? 

         And the answer, of course, is everything.  “I have everything to do with you.”  Jesus has a power over things that we deem to be unclean - good versus evil, right versus wrong, life versus death.  As UCC pastor, Todd Weir recognizes, “Christ is among us, whenever we gather in church, to demonstrate a power among us.  If we devote ourselves to anything less….we have missed the goal of faith.

         “What do you have to do with us?” the man at the back of the church inquired.  “I have everything to do with you,” Jesus might have replied – even in church, especially in church.

         Together  (he might have proclaimed) we have power.  Together we have it within us to yank the church out of its rut, out of its 19^th century hymns, out of its being a place that does not – will not – change, out of its irrelevancy to most adults under 40.  Together (he might have declared) we have it within us to make the church an agent for social change, a vehicle for transformation, an institutional follower on the Way.   

         “Are you here to destroy us?” we ask. “I am here to destroy, to rebuild, and to transform,” Jesus answers.  I am here to destroy the anger and the bitterness you carry within you.  I am here to destroy the greed and the jealousy that you try to keep under wraps.  I am here to destroy the apathy and the arrogance you flaunt.  I am here to destroy the fear that, as Lutheran pastor Jonathan Davis wrote, “our money will run out and so we must hold on to it tighter than ever. The fear that “old age” equals “washed up and useless.”   I am here to destroy the notion that the church is first and foremost a place of comfort and fellowship.

        I am here to rebuild, Jesus continues, to replace anger and bitterness with forgiveness, greed and jealousy with generosity, and apathy and arrogance with motivation and commitment.  I am here to rebuild the church as a relevant and critical catalyst for change.

         I am here to transform you, he concludes, so that you can transform the church and the world.  And it was probably at that point that the evil one left, shaking his fists, and screaming obscenities all the way out the door.

         Maybe Jesus concluded his prepared remarks then – or maybe his confrontation with the man so in need of healing was really his sermon.  We do not know. 

         However, if that is where Jesus stopped, then I probably should stop too.  And so I too conclude with this thought:  Maybe it is not so much about asking (or telling) Jesus what we need or what we think our lives or the life of the church ought to be like, but maybe it is recognizing instead (as the disruptive backbencher did) that Jesus is who we need and who we need to surrender and listen to if our lives or the life of the church are to be what God dreams for them to be.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond VIllage Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine