WE HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYTHING LIKE THIS
July 8, 2001
Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
Mark 2:1-12
I read these
familiar words of scripture and find my mind going back to the question asked by
the song from “Godspell” sung by Andy and Bethany this morning. .
. “Where are you going . . . Jesus, where are you going?”
Up to now in the
Gospel of Mark, things have been going great. Jesus has been preaching and
healing and large crowds are now following him. His fame is spreading. Any
day, he’ll have his own TV evangelist show - T-shirts and hats with his picture
on them - the whole nine yards. The first chapter of Mark ends with the words,
“And people came to him from every quarter.” The disciples, as you recall, had
left everything to follow Jesus and they had to be feeling pretty good about
their decision. The Jesus bandwagon was picking up steam every day. No
stopping them now!
Chapter Two of
the Gospel continues this theme. There are so many people crowding around Jesus
that there is no room in the house. A man brought for healing has to be lowered
through the roof because there are too many people crowding in by the front
door. Expand the parking lot. Go to two worship services. Jesus is popular
beyond anyone’s expectations. But then, without warning, in the midst of all
this upbeat news, there is grumbling. We hear whispers of “blasphemy.” There
is hostility, the beginning of organized opposition. Jesus’ preaching of the
Kingdom of God, which has been so wildly popular, begins to generate
controversy, a controversy which will grow and become increasingly dangerous
throughout chapter two and indeed the entire Gospel. Before long the disciples,
Jesus’ own family, and everyone else will be asking, “Where are you going?”
What has happened? Why has the Kingdom of God suddenly become so
controversial? And what does it all mean for us?
Heidi
Peterson, a Presbyterian pastor, shares this true story. “Southwest of
Guatemala city, a road leads to the barrio of La Esperanza. The poorly grated
dirt road challenges even four-wheel-drive vehicles. At the edges, the street
just falls off - eroded away in gullies cut by rain and sewage. Tiny houses
built wall-to-wall are made of scrap lumber, sheet metal, cardboard,
cinderblocks. Women, children and an occasional man linger in doorways to catch
the elusive breeze.
“When the
Guatemalan government unleashed its wave of terror against the indigenous,
largely illiterate farm worker population, 25,000 men, women and children were
killed in five years time. Thousands of men were abducted from their homes and
disappeared. In the early 1980’s, the widows of the ‘disappeared’ left the
farms and went to the city for refuge and work. Some formed the community of La
Esperanza, which means ‘hope.’ The widows came together in their desire to
survive and to see their children grow up. They worshipped and worked
together. They refused charity, but accepted funds from a Presbyterian program
that helped construct one durable building in the center of the community. The
building houses a day-care center, a preschool, a health clinic and a weaving
cooperative. The women care for each other’s children. Some have been trained
as dental hygienists and nurse practitioners. Some sew clothing for others or
sell weaving in the market. Compared to begging and gleaning, it is a dignified
life."
Concludes
Peterson, “If death is not the final word, then reality is not bound to what has
been. Reality is bound to God’s promise that all things are made new. In God’s
new world order, it is possible to be a widow and prosperous rather than poor.
It is possible to be self-possessed rather than powerless. It is possible to be
an agent of ministry instead of an object of ministry.”
In God’s new
world order, reality is not bound to what has been. The story of the widows of
La Esperanza is a great story, a hopeful story, a story of human courage and
resilience in the face of overwhelming odds. But for the entrenched powers of
Guatemala, it can also be a disturbing story, even a frightening story. Here
are people, women for heaven's sake, who are refusing to play by the old rules,
who will not allow themselves to be confined by old expectations, and who will
no longer be silent in the face of oppression. They will not be bound by what
has been, and they don't really care what the entrenched powers think of that.
And neither does
Jesus. He says to the paralytic, “Son, your sins are forgiven.” The reaction
of the scribes, the teachers of the law, the entrenched powers, is immediate and
heated, “Why does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can
forgive sins but God alone?” (Blasphemy - we’ll hear that charge again when
Jesus is on trial for his life, although you might say that trial begins with
this text! Someone always says “blasphemy!”.) The scribes are beside
themselves. This guy is breaking all the rules. We’ve never done it this way
before. He doesn’t know his place. All Jesus can say in response is, “You had
better get used to it, for the times they are a-changin’.” And all the people
are amazed and say, “We have never seen anything like this.” And indeed they
haven’t. Jesus will not be bound by what has been. New wine demands nothing
less than fresh wineskins. Are we ready for something that fresh, that new?
A colleague
shares this true story. “A friend of mine marched through the jungles of New
Guinea during the Second World War. He encountered native tribesmen whom he
found to be living a peaceful but curiously superstitious form of Christianity.
Through an interpreter, he visited with them about some of their peculiar
customs, showing obvious distaste for some of them. But an old man of the tribe
set him straight when he observed, “Sir, before we followed Jesus as Lord, we
would have cooked you and eaten you!” That was their way, but not anymore. Not
since they encountered Jesus, for which I’m sure that soldier was quite
grateful. Those primitive people of New Guinea may not have gotten the whole
Christian message, but they certainly understood that new wine demands new
wineskins, that when Jesus shows up truly the old has passed away and the new
has come. The old definitions of what is real and possible no longer apply.
They also understood that when Jesus comes by, a decision is called for. Do we
want to be part of something new?
In the second
chapter of Mark, things begin to get deadly serious. Jesus has come proclaiming
the Kingdom of God. Quite honestly what this means is that he has come to do
battle - to meet head on the power of evil in all its many manifestations, and
to overcome it. For Mark, Jesus’ healings are a sign of this - God, in Jesus,
triumphing over evil once and for all. But evil is not going to give in without
a fight. Indeed by the end of the second chapter of the Gospel, men are already
plotting Jesus’ execution.
Thus, you see,
the Kingdom of God is about liberation from the forces of evil - certainly the
widows in Guatemala would understand that. It’s about forgiveness,
reconciliation, justice and new life. It’s about going the second mile,
returning good for evil, even sitting down with the one you call “enemy.” It’s
about never being held down or held back by what has gone before.
Have you seen
those billboards, I think it’s Apple Computer, that show a famous person such as
Einstein and on the billboard it says simply, “think different.” Now that may
not be the greatest grammar, but let’s stay with it because essentially that is
what Jesus is saying in our text - dare to think different, to believe
different. Break free of the past with its fear, anxiety, pain, resentment,
prejudice. We are no longer bound to what has been. Dare to embrace a bold new
world - call it the kingdom of God - where forgiveness is real, where
possibility is real, where hope is real, where peacemakers are blessed and
mourners are comforted, and where all God’s children got a place in the choir.
The new wine is being poured, says Jesus, and the old skins, the old containers,
the old ways of thinking and being, just aren’t going to be able to hold it.
Join me in the creation of a new world!
A Presbyterian
pastor writes, “Some time ago, a man in my church who was attending a class on
spiritual transformation told another church member, a 94-year-old woman, about
the class. She immediately responded, ‘I’d like to go!’” Here was a woman who
understood Jesus - 94 years old and yet she understood that it’s never too late
for change, for transformation; never too late to embrace God’s bold, new world.
Where are you
going, Jesus? Where are you going? Will you take me with you?
Return to Sermon Table of Contents