When we meet Jesus again this morning, he has gathered up all his disciples: Simon, Andrew, James, and John as well as eight others. He has recruited fishermen and a tax collector and other assorted people from the lower classes of 1stcentury Jewish society.
Jesus was a man on a mission, and now he was ready to start his ministry. And what better way to begin to forge that new relationship he believed was about to happen, that transformed relationship between God and the ordinary Jews he met on the roads cutting through Galilee – what better way to begin than by preaching on a Sabbath morning in a local synagogue?
And so, our itinerate rabbi arranged for a preaching gig in Capernaum, and his followers all sat in the front row to support him. We have no idea what Jesus said in his sermon or teaching time because the Gospel writer of Mark did not think that the contentof the sermon was important. From this earliest Gospel, we only learn what Jesus did – not what he taught - and how what he didaffected the people he encountered.
We only know, from this story, that he preached (or taught) with “great authority.” We only know that the congregation was amazed – and not because for once they were not bored to tears. Jesus’ sermon was like nothing they had ever heard before. His words meant something - though we do not know what those words were. All we know is that, along with those words – whatever they were - came a sense of authority that could only have originated in the heart of God.
We only know that it must have been as Reformed Church pastor Scott Hoezee imagined: “It wasn’t just that his ideas and vocabulary were fresh and innovative and it wasn’t simply that he was a better orator than they at first guessed. Rather, there was something in the very presence of the man that made you want to sit up straighter. Even the teenagers, who had worked so hard at perfecting a bored-stiff look on their faces, couldn’t help perking up, slouching a bit less and listening more closely than they’d care to admit.”
Picture this: The people in the pews whispering behind their hands within the first few minutes of Jesus’ sermon – and they were not admiring his robe or commenting that, for his lack of experience in the pulpit, they could hear every word he said. Some were even taking notes on their bulletins, and others had scrawled “Amazing, right?” on the cover and then nudged the person next to them and quietly tapped the bulletin.
Surely the congregation was contrasting Jesus’ teaching with that which they usually heard on a Sabbath morning, contrasting Jesus’ teaching with that of the scribes. The congregation was quickly realizing that, unlike the scribes, Jesus was bringing something extra to the table. Jesus’ person had something the scribes did not have. Jesus had authority. Jesus was the real deal. Jesus was what God’s dream for the world was all about.
Hoezee continues to describe the situation. “This man had authority (he writes). He had a moral gravity, a weightiness and substance to him that people found difficult to explain. Somehow, they sensed that this man and the message about God’s kingdom he was talking about were one and the same thing. This man’s impact had nothing to do with any seminary diplomas he had hanging on his wall. It did not stem from his once having been ordained and it wasn’t just because he had clearly done his homework, had practiced his sermon, and so was able to preach without distracting stutters. No, this man was the very message he was proclaiming. They couldn’t quite put their finger on it, but this man packed a wallop just by virtue of being there at all.”
It was in the midst of all the amazed whispering and note-taking and exclamation points drawn on bulletins that the crazy man walked in the side door. You know the kind I mean – though we today would label him in more politically correct terms. He was handicapped. He was the type most of us would go to great lengths to avoid – the kind who spends the day walking up and down Congress Street in Portland talking to someone who is not there, the weirdo who waves at cars and sometimes yells at people.
The one in the synagogue did not even bother to sit down, but instead he strode up the center aisle, shrieking like a mad man (which he apparently was), and confronting Jesus the guest preacher. The congregation was aghast and looked anxiously around. Where was the Deacon Assistant anyway? Won’t someone give this guy a grocery card and get him out of here? He is disturbing our worship – and more than that, he is disturbing us.
Jesus, however, leaves the protection of the pulpit and meets the man half way. They stare at each other for a long moment as the congregation watches carefully to see how this particularly uncomfortable scenario will unfold.
The crazy man seemed to gather what wits he still had about him and loudly blurted out the reason for his coming in the first place. And it was not for cash or a grocery card.
It was to make an announcement, which is what he did – in a loud voice: “What business do you have here with us, Jesus? Nazarene! I know what you’re up to! You’re the Holy One of God, and you’ve come to destroy us!”
There, he said it. Or rather, the unclean spirit residing within him said it. And so, Jesus answered not the crazy man, but the spirit that afflicted him. “Be silent – and get out!” Or, in the vernacular: Shut up and leave!
The crazy man shrieked a couple additional times, but more half-heartedly each go-round. Then the congregation watched in horror as he experienced a massive convulsion and fell into a heap right there half way up the center aisle. A moment later he sat up and shook his head, but the fire was all out of his eyes now – and he looked halfway normal – if you could ignore the grimy robe he was wearing and the body odor and how he had been acting just moments before.
Any way you look at it, incidents like that one sure do not happen in church very often! Of course, the Gospel writer fails to tell us what occurred next. Did the handicapped gentleman sit alone in the center aisle for the rest of the service? Did the Deacon Assistant hand him a grocery card and show him the door?
I like to think that someone in the congregation assisted the man to his feet and invited him to sit with her family for the rest of the service. I like to think that someone invited him to coffee hour afterward and did not leave him stranded and alone when they got to the Fellowship Hall.
I also like to think that the congregation learned something from the experience. I like to think that they realized how important it was to reflect on who was welcome and who was not welcome in their synagogue. I like to think that they understood a bit better that being less than welcoming can happen in so many little ways – a disapproving glance, a sudden deep interest in the bulletin cover, a sign that cannot be read, an entrance that is hard to find, a bathroom that cannot be used.
A variety of research studies conclude that all churches today – large, small, progressive, conservative, evangelical – all churches are experiencing declining attendance. Churches are perceived as increasingly irrelevant, especially in Maine, which is the least overtly religious state in the least religious region of the country.
Churches everywhere are asking a fundamental question: If we are the 21stcentury embodiment of the radical welcome and hospitality that Jesus stood for, how can we - and how can our building - be more welcoming and hospitable, so that people want to experience God’s love in a new way in our faith community? And just who do we want to welcome anyway?
I have been inside a lot of churches over the years, and I can tell you this: Our church is like virtually all old churches that were built and added on to before handicapped accessibility became a question of justice. Again, like most old churches, we have responded to the issue of handicapped accessibility, albeit in a patchwork way. We have a ramp from the outdoors that leads to the sanctuary. We have upgraded our sound system.
However, we are like congregations in many – but not all - old buildings. It is difficult for us to understand the need for structural change because we have no visibly handicapped people in our midst. If someone regularly came to worship in a wheelchair, surely we would take out some pews, so that he or she would feel comfortable here.
If we had a few people who used walkers, certainly we would have a chair lift, so they could get down to coffee hour without going outdoors to get to the Vestry. However, we do not have those sorts of people in our midst. So what is the big deal?
Let me tell you a story…..Several decades ago, Joe and I started an alternative soccer league in Cumberland – even though we had been told that only 250 children in town wanted to play soccer, and they all played for the Cumberland Soccer Club, the town travel team.
We started the alternative program anyway, and within 3 years, there were 750 children playing soccer – 250 for the Cumberland Soccer Club and the rest in our program. Five hundred children who did not want to play soccer came out of the woodwork to play.
Now the moral of that story is this: To quote a line from the movie, “Field of Dreams”: If you build it, they will come. Now, we do not know if people in our community would come to our church if we offered more easily accessible bathrooms or if we had clear signage or big print bulletins or if there were places in our sanctuary where those in wheel chairs and with walkers could sit comfortably and feel a part of our congregation. But there might be! And even if there were not such people, this sort of radical welcome is simply the right thing to do.
Lori and I learned about Universal Design, originally an educational movement, at a Calvin Institute symposium that was part of our worship grant year a few years ago. Universal Design assumes BOTH that people have different needs and different ways of doing the same thing AND that these different people should have equal access to public facilities, including (or perhaps most especially) in churches.
How would Universal Design look in our church setting? First, we would assume that people have varying needs when entering our church building and worshipping in our sanctuary, reading bulletins, listening to discussions in committee meetings, listening to sermons, visiting with others over coffee, using the bathroom, and doing all the other things people do in church. With that precept in mind, Universal Design would challenge us to look at our building, our visual and auditory communications, and, above all, our attitudes – and intentionally assess the need for change.
Second, Universal Design in our church would challenge us to embrace the fact that, like all our ministries, its purpose is not to fill the pews on Sunday mornings, get more volunteers, and increase the number of pledging units. Its purpose is to be an intentional expression of the radical welcome and hospitality that Jesus stood for, a recognition that it is the right thing to do.
Jesus reached out to a crazy man that morning in the synagogue. One hopes that the congregation learned from the experience – not only about how to deal with the crazy man but also that the crazy man’s question was worth reflecting on: “Jesus of Nazareth! What have you to do with us?” The answer, of course is this: Everything…..everything. And the answer is the same for us. Jesus has everything to do with us who say that we are his followers as well.
The people in the synagogue pews got the authority part – that Jesus spoke and taught with an authority that the scribes simply did not possess. But what exactly constituted that authority? Let me share Lutheran pastor Barbara Lundblad’s thoughts (with a couple of my own questions for us to think about).
She writes in part: “The authority of Jesus moves us toward inclusion rather than exclusion. More specifically, this authority includes precisely persons who had been excluded before…We must, (she writes,) therefore, be suspicious of (churches that move in any way) toward exclusion, whose aim (directly or indirectly) is to keep certain people out by written rule or daily practice. We must judge ourselves and our churches by Jesus' move toward inclusion. And the question for us is this: How can we be even more inclusive than we are now?
(Lundblad continues.) Jesus' authority also values persons over rules or traditions. In our longing for greater certainty, it is often persons who suffer. We must judge ourselves and our churches by Jesus' insistence in valuing all persons. And the question for us is this: To what extent do we hold fast to tradition and to budgets and, in doing so, devalue precious women, men and children?
(And finally, Lundblad concludes), we must judge ourselves and our churches acknowledging our human limitations. We long for absolutes. We long for things to be clearer. And the question for us is this: Should any steps we can take to become more handicapped accessible be a priority simply because it is the right thing to do, because it reflects who Jesus calls us to be? Who do we want to welcome anyway? Tough questions – but not insurmountable ones!
Let us remember, as Lundblad concluded, “Jesus stands with us in the midst of our loose-leaf lives (and our quest for church survival in an increasingly secular society), promising to be present with us as we struggle together for faithful answers.” May we come to believe that the Spirit which dwelt with Jesus dwells in us too and can lead us into truth. Let’s ask the tough questions then about inclusion and radical welcome – and be open to the Spirit. Amen.
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