Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
July 9, 2006
Mark 6: 14-29
A pastor shares this story: “As a volunteer for Special Olympics I was the lane five coach. Two students approached the starting line. The gun went off. The race began. I coached the student in lane five toward me. But suddenly, he slowed down, waiting for his friend. When his friend caught up, they ran together, with matching strides, across the finish line. ‘We tied! We tied!’ they shouted with joy.
“There was some consternation among the judges. The scoring books had no place for a tie. The assumption was there would be a clear-cut winner. And yet, all the while, the two boys continued to rejoice and insist, ‘We tied! We tied!’”
Concludes the pastor, “In a world where winners are expected, a new world was introduced on the wings of these runners, a world where it is more blessed to run together than to win a race. Blest be the tie. Blest be the pure in heart. From time to time, we are graced with a glimpse into the world to come. It is coming. It is here.”
“A glimpse of the world to come…” A nice story, a heart-warming story, a story that reminds me of some words preached in a sermon several years ago. The preacher was thinking of this new world when he said, “In the gospel of Christ…one must not love oneself so much as to avoid getting involved in the risks of life that history demands of us...The experiences of a new earth must not weaken but rather stimulate our concern for this earth…May we give ourselves like Christ, not for self, but to give justice and peace to our people.”
There is nothing particularly startling about that sermon, right? Another reflection on God’s reign, God’s kingdom, another glimpse of the new world that God is bringing in among us. A sermon, not particularly different from sermons you may have heard preached from this pulpit. The preacher could easily have used the story of the two boys to illustrate his point about what this new world might look like.
But I did fail to mention one thing about that sermon. What I failed to mention was that immediately after the preacher said, “May we give ourselves like Christ, not for self, but to give justice and peace to our people,” a shot rang out in the sanctuary and the preacher, Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, fell, mortally wounded. It would seem that the old world is not always excited to hear the proclamation of a new world. If it is true that in Christ a new world is coming, then it is equally true that the old world is set to resist with all its might.
What did you think of the pleasant little story in our scripture text for today? Just as dessert is being served, coffee being brewed, in walks a servant with John’s head on a platter. So much for pleasant after dinner conversation. Why would Mark tell such a gruesome story? And what can it possibly have to do with the Gospel? It is the only story in Mark that is not a story about Jesus. Plus this story seems out of place, so disjoined from its context.
As I said, at the beginning of Mark 6, we find Jesus sending the Twelve out to do the work of the Kingdom – to preach, heal and cast out demons. Later in the same chapter, these disciples return to tell Jesus stories of their ministry – deeds of wonder and experiences of grace. But in between we have this story of Herod’s execution of John the Baptist. As one pastor asks, “What’s a bad story like that doing in a nice place like this?”
Is this an interlude, Mark’s literary way of killing a little time? Could Mark be saying, “Well, there go the disciples of Jesus off on their ministry. It will be a while until they get back. So, why we are waiting, how about a story? Did I ever tell the one about the day Herod beheaded John the Baptist?” Yes, I suppose that could be what Mark is doing…just filling a little time.
But I don’t think so. Jesus sends out the Twelve. The scene then quickly shifts to Herod’s palace. Clearly Herod has heard about this Jesus of Nazareth. And it is apparent there was a lot of speculation about just who this Jesus was. And there was one explanation that Herod both believed and dreaded to believe…the story that Jesus was actually John the Baptist, raised from the dead. Then Mark provides us with this graphic flashback so that we can understand the source of Herod’s guilt and fear. Herod trembles at the recurring thought that this might be John, whom he had beheaded. Herod killed him but Herod fears him still. Then, having told this story, Mark returns to the Twelve and their mission as they report back to Jesus. Again, why this story? What does Mark want us to know?
Reflecting on this text, United Methodist bishop, William Willimon, says, “The two images in this text are lasting: the image of John’s head on the platter and the image of Herod, with all the symbols of power – a throne, a crown, a place – still trembling, wondering if John has been raised from the dead. And he is right to be uneasy. His time will come, his days will end, and his reign will be no more. In contrast, the Lord to whom John is witness will reign forever. The world John announces keeps on coming. The new day announced by John and embodied by Jesus is dawning and no power of this world can hinder it.”
I think Mark places this story here so we can see the collision of two worlds, two worlds that are not going to peacefully co-exist.
I said earlier that this is the only story in Mark’s Gospel that is not about Jesus but that might not have been exactly true, because even though he is not specifically mentioned, this story is in fact all about Jesus and the new world he brings with him. In the days when South Africa was still in the grip of Apartheid, at the close of a meeting with the South African Minister of Law and Order – one could ask, who’s law and who’s order – Bishop Desmond Tutu said this: “Mr. Minister, we must remind you that you are not God. You are just a man. One day your name shall merely be a faint scribble on the pages of history while the name of Jesus Christ, Lord of the church, will live forever.”
And that is what Herod is afraid of, what the old world is afraid of. Herod never willingly gives up power, prestige and privilege. The new world, the new world of Christ, is always a threat.
In November, Nicaragua will elect a new president. There are many political parties in Nicaragua but just two primary parties and a vigorous election campaign is already underway. The people of Nicaragua are passionate about politics. In Nicaragua, in El Salvador, they are trying to rise from the ashes of years of oppression, death squads and civil war. They are trying to create something new. In the northern town of Esteli, Joyce Cox and I saw a building still pockmarked with bullet holes from the war with the contras. So many lives were lost, so much suffering. And Archbishop Romero was not the only priest to be murdered because he dared to proclaim the liberating new world of justice, the new world of Jesus. The words I quoted from the archbishop’s final sermon were not all that revolutionary, but all the Herods and Caesars throughout history, all who have a stake in the old world, know that when Jesus is proclaimed as Lord, no one else can be. And sharing power is not really their thing.
But of course, as far as I know, no one has ever threatened to shoot me or cut off my head because of something I preached, at least they haven’t told me that to my face. And so all this talk of two worlds colliding might sound kind of interesting, but it is also a bit strange, because that really isn’t our experience. We don’t necessarily feel the collision. Coming here to worship on Sunday doesn’t really put us at risk. The world around this church does not feel particularly threatened by its existence or what we do and say here, unless we try to interfere with Sunday morning youth soccer. When I do the work of the church, the world generally pats me on the back – “keep up the good work, Gene.” I try honestly to preach the counter cultural word of the Gospel and am invited to join the Rotary Club, not exactly a counter cultural organization. Mark wants us to feel the tension of worlds colliding, but more often than not I suspect our response is, “what tension?” This is not Bishop Tutu’s South Africa or Romero’s El Salvador.
And yet the author, Sue Monk Kidd, has written, “The truth will set you free, but first it will shatter the safe, sweet way you live.” Martin Luther King, Jr., told students at Cal, “I call you to be maladjusted to this world…as maladjusted as Jesus.” I heard James Forbes of Riverside Church preach, “A national CT scan of the United States has revealed that there is nothing right on the left side and nothing left on the right side!” They make the point better than I. As comfortable as we are with the world of Herod and with the status quo, as comfortable as we are with conventional wisdom, can we allow the unconventional wisdom, the new world, the alternative reality of John and Jesus in? Can we let it in? The probing question of Mark for those of us who seek to follow Jesus is: will we remain faithful, continuing in confidence that the new world is coming, will we be bold and courageous witnesses to the reign of God, dare we embrace the outrageous, even dangerous truth that the power which the world thought was nailed to a cross and buried in a tomb is in fact loose in the world? Dare we let it loose in our hearts? This new world, where it is more blest to run together than to win the race.
Make no mistake about it, when we gather to worship on Sundays, two worlds do collide. We don’t often feel it, maybe we never feel it, but it happens. Competing claims are made on us. And the hard question is not if we will give our lives, but to what or to whom will we give them. For, as you have heard me say many times, too often we offer ourselves up on lesser altars to smaller gods. So what do I hope might happen today and every day that we gather for worship, when we hear the claims of competing worlds?
I’ll conclude with some words of Willimon: “So we go forth after church. There are some quarrels in the car on the way home, the same tensions over the dinner table, the same blue Monday. Now, however, we are aware of a new world, new hope, new possibility, new dreams, new hunger for something else. In short, we are aware of more. We see how greatly reduced, how tamed has been our faith. We, who have tasted new wine, now thirst for more.
“The Prince of Darkness whispers, ‘adjust, adapt.’ The Prince wants to keep the world closed, for a closed world is easier to administer, and people without a future, fearful people, anxious, people, are more manageable than those with imagination.
“Some Sundays when we gather, the Prince rules the roost. No new thing is uttered or heard. The pulpit is the place of platitudes, comfortable clichés, slogans, and nothing more. But sometimes, sometimes, we manage to peek over the horizon, stand on tiptoes, and there is something more. Somebody goes home from church newly discontent with present arrangements. And we dare to wish for ourselves more, more for our world, more for others. And the Prince knows that he has lost a little of his territory to its true Lord. And the Lord’s newly reclaimed territory is us.”