It’s Not Your Fault

Sermon for July 25, 2021, Pentecost 9B

Audio is here.

Video is available (after Sunday) at the YouTube Channel of the Central Presbyterian Church in Fort Smith, AR.

2 Samuel 11:1-15

In the spring of the year, the time when kings go out to battle, David sent Joab with his officers and all Israel with him; they ravaged the Ammonites, and besieged Rabbah. But David remained at Jerusalem.

It happened, late one afternoon, when David rose from his couch and was walking about on the roof of the king’s house, that he saw from the roof a woman bathing; the woman was very beautiful. David sent someone to inquire about the woman. It was reported, “This is Bathsheba daughter of Eliam, the wife of Uriah the Hittite.” So David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her. (Now she was purifying herself after her period.) Then she returned to her house. The woman conceived; and she sent and told David, “I am pregnant.”

So David sent word to Joab, “Send me Uriah the Hittite.” And Joab sent Uriah to David. When Uriah came to him, David asked how Joab and the people fared, and how the war was going. Then David said to Uriah, “Go down to your house, and wash your feet.” Uriah went out of the king’s house, and there followed him a present from the king. But Uriah slept at the entrance of the king’s house with all the servants of his lord, and did not go down to his house. When they told David, “Uriah did not go down to his house,” David said to Uriah, “You have just come from a journey. Why did you not go down to your house?” Uriah said to David, “The ark and Israel and Judah remain in tents; and my lord Joab and the servants of my lord are camping in the open field; shall I then go to my house, to eat and to drink, and to lie with my wife? As you live, and as your soul lives, I will not do such a thing.” Then David said to Uriah, “Remain here today also, and tomorrow I will send you back.” So Uriah remained in Jerusalem that day. On the next day, David invited him to eat and drink in his presence and made him drunk; and in the evening he went out to lie on his couch with the servants of his lord, but he did not go down to his house.

In the morning David wrote a letter to Joab, and sent it by the hand of Uriah. In the letter he wrote, “Set Uriah in the forefront of the hardest fighting, and then draw back from him, so that he may be struck down and die.”

It is part of my sense of personal mission in life to disabuse people of bad theology.  Bad theology is dangerous.  Bad theology makes people suffer.  Maybe you have been a victim of bad theology; I have.  

Let me give you some examples of how bad theology hurts people.  

It is bad theology to tell people that they are essentially bad.  People may do bad things, but at root, we are children of God, beloved by God.  Fundamentally, we are not bad, so it is bad theology and causes suffering to tell people they are bad.  It leads to guilt and shame, even self-loathing and worse.  No.  We are created in God’s image and pronounced, “very good.”  

It is also bad theology to tell people they are in danger of going to hell.  When you believe in a God who is essentially defined by the word Love, it makes no sense, in my opinion, the idea that God’s crowning achievement would be an eternal torture chamber.  Hell is bad theology, and the fear of hell has caused much suffering!  

Now here is the bit of bad theology that I want us to focus on today:  It is bad theology to believe that whatever I am suffering is some kind of payback, or recompense for my misdeeds.  

The Real World

There are two ways to show that God is not a God of retribution.  First, the real world.  Does the real world show us that suffering is the result of Divine punishment for sins?  

I was just having a conversation with a person who spent a career in nursing, from nursery to pediatrics, all the way to home health and hospice nursing.  We were talking about children. Not only do children get cancer, but some are even born with it.  Same with Spina Bifida.  Some are born addicted to drugs.  They have not done anything to deserve it.  

To imagine that there is such a thing as a God who would punish parents by causing infants to suffer and die makes God out to be a moral monster.  None of us would imagine doing something so unjust and hideous.  God cannot be like that; not if God has an ounce of goodness.  The real world shows us that it doesn’t work that way.

Jesus’ Theology

The second way to deconstruct the doctrine of divine retribution is that Jesus said repeatedly that God does not work that way.  

Jesus said that the man born blind is not guilty, and neither are his parents.  

The ones who died when the tower fell were not killed for being the worst sinners, Jesus said.   

He said that God causes the sun to shine and the rain to fall on the fields of the righteous and the wicked, the godly and the ungrateful.  

So it is not the case that suffering comes as a consequence of bad behavior.  

Some behavior carries its own consequences: bad diets lead to bad health outcomes, for example.  Drug abuse can lead to addiction and a whole cascade of problems, but that is not something God does; we do that to ourselves. 

So, turning to the story we read, I want to say to Bathsheba: you were not raped by King David because God was punishing you.  I want to say to Uriah, you were not murdered by King David because of anything bad you did.  

Just the opposite. I want to say to Bathsheba: you were raped because an entitled powerful man believed he had the right to your body to satisfy his own lusts.  He did not.  He was abusing his power.  He may have been a king, but he was not above the moral law.  David was wrong.  Bathsheba was not.

Neither was her husband, Uriah guilty of anything.  In fact, according to the story, he was so upright that he would not even take advantage of a chance to be with his wife when his men were suffering on the field of battle.  Uriah was not killed for his sins; he was killed by the same man that raped his wife; a powerful man conducting an attempted cover-up.  

No One Is Above the Moral Law

There are several reasons why this sordid story is in the Bible.  One is what we just  reflected on: that bad things do happen to good people without being punishments from God.  And we will return to that them in a minute.  

Another important teaching from this story is this: no one is above the moral law, not even the king.  Later in the story, the prophet Nathan confronts David, possibly at the risk of his life.  He speaks truth to power.  He believes in an authority above the king.  No one is above the moral law, regardless of power, wealth, popularity or position.  

This is a value we Presbyterians hold dear.  When the government is wrong, we will raise our voices.  When officials are corrupt, we will not be silent.  When there is abuse of power, we will call it out.  We will champion the causes of the oppressed.  We will fight for justice for people discriminated against.  

We continue the tradition of Jesus who went to the temple to shut it down, resisting the corruption and oppression its aristocratic leaders were subjecting the peasants to.  

We join the great tradition of Presbyterians who were at the forefront of the effort to free slaves and abolish slavery.  

We join hands with all the Presbyterians that marched with Dr. King and other civil rights leaders, demanding changes in laws that restricted access to voting, housing, education and employment for people of color.  

Recently we marched against the killing of George Floyd and the systemic racism that his murder symbolized.  

We are, right now, working to bring the Bail Project to the River Valley so that poor people do not have to sit in jail, while their wealthier peers are out on bail, awaiting trial.   

The story of David and Bathsheba, combined with the Jesus tradition, is there to give us the mandate to holding all people accountable to do the right thing.  

Retribution?  No.

But let us return to the story again and reflect more on what happened.  Bathsheba and Uriah were victims of evil acts.  They did not suffer because they were being punished for anything they had done.  

It is important to notice that there is more than one perspective about this in the Hebrew Bible.  There are many chapters that teach the doctrine of retribution: that those who are good get blessed and those that are evil are punished.  

Even in this story, later we read how David was punished for his sins.  The son born of his rape of Bathsheba died, as punishment, according to the story.  So, although Bathsheba and Uriah were innocent victims, nevertheless the author here still believed the guilty should be punished.

But as people in those ancient times reflected on the reality that many good people, like Bathsheba and Uriah, suffered through no fault of their own, they began to tell other stories that taught a different view.  

They told the story of Job, a righteous man, according to the author, who suffered horribly.  He lost his children, his flocks and herds, his health, and the love of his own wife who told him to “Curse God and die.”  His friends, according to the story, came to tell him his suffering was punishment for something he must have done.  But they were wrong.  Job’s sufferings were not a punishment from God.  

As we saw, Jesus concluded that Job was right, and his friends were mistaken about God.  So, Jesus taught us to love God, not to fear God.  

Jesus taught us that when we do wrong when we lose our way, when we get off track, God is not there to make us suffer.  Rather God is like the shepherd who searches for his lost sheep.  

God is like the woman who searches for her lost coin, and rejoices when she finds it.  God is like the father of the prodigal son who runs to meet him on his return, and interrupts his planned repentance speech with announcements of a party.  

We believe that when we suffer, God is there, suffering with us, just as when we rejoice, God is there, rejoicing with us.   God is with us in every moment of our lives, experiencing what we experience.  And God’s Spirit is there, even in our suffering, to open up new possibilities for a future with hope.  

The Cross at the Heart of Christianity

At the very heart of our Christian tradition stands a cross on which an innocent victim died, not because he was being punished by God, but because Rome considered him a threat.   

It is hard to face suffering.  It was hard, even for Jesus.  He felt abandoned by God, as we sometimes do when we suffer.  But Jesus was not abandoned by God.  

When we gather around the Lord’s Supper table, we remember that Jesus suffered, he was broken like the bread is broken.  His life was poured out like the cup is poured out.  

We need to remember this often.  That is why John Calvin wanted us to celebrate the Lord’s Supper every Sunday.  Our faith needs the frequent reminder that suffering is not a punishment from God.  

Rather, as we receive the bread and the cup, we are fed spiritually.  They are the meal that sustains our faith so that we can stand up for those who suffer, as Jesus did, taking risks, as he did, on behalf of the God who loves every one of us, and walks with us through our suffering.  God is good; suffering is not your fault. 

People of the Crossing

Sermon for July 18, 2021, Pentecost 8B

Video is available (after the Sunday service) at the YouTube channel of the Central Presbyterian Church, Fort Smith, AR.

Audio is here.

Mark 6:30-56 

Today I am going to do something different. Instead of reading the Gospel text first, I’m going to read it as we work our way through it, noticing how it works as a story, and what it means for us today.  So, let’s begin.

At the heart of this story is an account of a difficult sea crossing.  We are going to see that crossing borders is what this story is all about.

Our lives have been shaped by the moments in which we crossed over the line that separated two different worlds.  

For example, we all had that moment when we left  our parent’s home where everything we needed was provided for us, and moved out to make our own way in the world.  We crossed over from the world of dependence to the world of independence.  

Many of us crossed over from singleness to married life.  Some of us have crossed over from married to divorced.  Not all crossings are happy, but all are permanently significant.  

Some significant crossings are the ones in which we leave behind one worldview that has become inadequate to account for the full range of our life experiences and adopt a new worldview that encompasses a larger reality.  

We leave behind old paradigms, confining prejudices, tired stereotypes, and childish reasoning for new, more complex constructs.  We left behind the world of Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny for the world of buying Christmas gifts and hosting Easter dinners.

As people of faith, I believe it is our calling to be people who cross over many boundaries, in the quest to be faithful to our Creator, and to Jesus’ vision.  

We come by this calling honestly.  Our Jewish ancestors defined themselves by the times they crossed over from one world to another.  In the tradition of stories that they passed down, we read of Moses leading the Hebrew people to cross the Red Sea, from the world of slavery into freedom.  

Later Joshua led them to cross the Jordan River from the Wilderness into the Promised Land.  In fact, the word “Hebrew” comes from a word meaning “to cross over.”  Crossings defined them.  Crossings define us. 

We are going to read a story from the Jesus-tradition today, about crossing over, in this case, the lake we call the Sea of Galilee.  

But this story finds its largest significance as we see it as part of a larger narrative that Mark has constructed.  His goal is to show us what it means to be a follower of Jesus.

So, using the disciples as characters with whom we can identify, he lays out a pattern for disciples of all times, including us.  

So we will work our way through this story, noticing how each part builds up a picture of the life of discipleship.  We will see that it could be called, the life of those who make it a life-quest to keep crossing over borders, from one world to another. 

The story begins this way: 

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. 

Jesus had taught and healed people, then he had sent out his disciples to do the same, and now they have returned to report their experiences to Jesus. 

He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. 

There is a pattern to the life of a disciple; there are periods of ministry, and times of rest.  A life of action without time for contemplation becomes exhausting and loses joy.  

We all need daily times of quiet contemplation and meditation, weekly gatherings, and seasonal periods of reflection.  

Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things. 

Disciples understand that interruptions to our plans may be God-given opportunities for ministry and compassion.  What is our purpose in life?  Often we discover our purpose unfolding as unexpected needs present themselves to us, and we respond as God’s agents of mercy and compassion.  

But notice Jesus’ response.  He healed people, and then he taught them.  We don’t just give a fish, we teach people how to fish.  We don’t just feed, we teach.  We don’t just respond to crises, we organize and advocate so that the crises don’t keep repeating. 

When it grew late, his disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now very late; send them away so that they may go into the surrounding country and villages and buy something for themselves to eat.” But he answered them, “You give them something to eat.” They said to him, “Are we to go and buy two hundred denarii worth of bread, and give it to them to eat?” And he said to them, “How many loaves have you? Go and see.” When they had found out, they said, “Five, and two fish.” Then he ordered them to get all the people to sit down in groups on the green grass. So they sat down in groups of hundreds and of fifties. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to his disciples to set before the people; and he divided the two fish among them all. And all ate and were filled; and they took up twelve baskets full of broken pieces and of the fish. Those who had eaten the loaves numbered five thousand men.

When we come together around the Lord’s Supper, we do so to remember Jesus.  Remembering Jesus feeds this community.  

That is what this story illustrates.  Using the same four verbs that come from Jesus’ celebration of the Last Supper, we read that Jesus “took, blessed, broke and gave” the bread and fish.   

That is one of the reasons that the Lord’s Supper is so important to us; these physical signs that we take, bless, break and give, help us to remember Jesus, who was willing to be broken and poured out for us.  As we eat the body of Christ, we become the body of Christ.  And the result is that we are filled, and have an abundant supply to share with all those who are hungry.  

Immediately he made his disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, to Bethsaida, while he dismissed the crowd. After saying farewell to them, he went up on the mountain to pray.

Let us notice the odd part of this story: Jesus “made” his disciples get into the boat to cross to the other side.  Now we are coming to the center of this story: having been fed and nourished at the Lord’s Supper, the next task is to get in the boat, and cross over.  

Why would they have to be “made” to go?  Let’s find out.  In the mean time, Jesu is doing what he regularly did: spending time in prayer, in meditation, communing with the Divine.

When evening came, the boat was out on the sea, and he was alone on the land. When he saw that they were straining at the oars against an adverse wind, he came towards them early in the morning, walking on the sea. 

They were straining.  The crossing was difficult.  They knew it would be.  The wind was against them.  These crossing stories often include great difficulty.  Sometimes an adverse wind; sometimes a life-threatening storm.  It always seems like a struggle to make the crossing.  

Why?  Because the crossings are not physical, but ideological.  Sometimes they are ethnic crossings, from Jewish to Gentile space.  Of course, that kind of crossing over is always going to be challenging.  That’s why Jesus had to make them do it.  

There is no true discipleship without crossing over from our safe little worlds in which everyone looks like us, thinks like us, talks like us, sings like us, sits still in church like us, and loves like us, to the other side where they do it differently.

The fresh water lake is called a “sea” purposefully.  The sea was a place of danger. In ancient Canaan, the word “sea,”  was the name of the god of the sea, Yam, whose chaotic waters were life-threatening.  

The lake is the symbol of the chaos and danger separating “us” from “them,”  but Jesus cruises on those waters without a qualm.  He is the master-crosser-over.

He intended to pass them by. But when they saw him walking on the sea, they thought it was a ghost and cried out; for they all saw him and were terrified.

To “pass by” is not to ignore them.  Passing by is what God’s glorious presence did before Moses, to signal that God was with him, to protect and guide him.  Jewish readers probably understand that expression, but we need to be reminded of the story.  

Jesus was accompanying his people as they made the crossing from their safe world to the world in which people were different, but where they too needed God’s message of love. 

 But immediately he spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Then he got into the boat with them and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded, for they did not understand about the loaves, but their hearts were hardened.

Mark is hard on the disciples.  He is saying: wake up; don’t miss the point.  Soften your heart to receive this message.  The crossing is terrifying until you get it that this is exactly what Jesus is calling us to do, repeatedly.  

The boat is a symbol of the church.  If you understand about the loaves, in other words, that the Lord’s Supper symbolizes our unity, then you will be safe when you do the difficult work of crossing over to the “other.”

When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.

Once you make the crossing, once you reach out to people who are different with the message that God’s love is for them too,  you get to watch the healing start to happen.  Enemies become friends.  Strangers become family.  Reconciliation ends conflicts, hostility gives way to hospitality.  Embattled communities become one single Beloved Community.

I go to two different locations nearby to have, what we call Pints with a Pastor.  I hear stories of how badly people have been hurt by the church, and it grieves me.  I hear the stories of people who were raised in traditions that told them that they were bad.  They could not question church teaching.  They were told that God was going to punish them.  They were told they were going to hell. They were told, for example, that being gay was a sin.  Some have children who are gay.  They were told that they did not belong.  Some were told that they did not need to concern themselves with climate change because Jesus would come back soon — hopefully before their town burned to the ground or was inundated with seawater.  Some were told who they had to vote for on pain of exclusion.   

They were sold a version of God that looks almost opposite to the God that Jesus loved, and taught us to trust.  Some of them are bitter, others are deeply wounded.

So I go, to cross over into their worlds.  Maybe some will want to come here to find a healing, loving community. I hope so.  When that happens, they will be our opportunity to cross over to them with love, to make sure they feel not just welcome, but that they belong.  Not because they are going to change to become like us, but because they, like us, will find healing through love.  

That’s what Jesus, the master-crosser-over brought to us; that is what we are called to for others.

The Price of Speaking Truth to Power

Sermon for July 11, 2021, Pentecost 7B

Video is here at the Central Presbyterian Church, Fort Smith, AR’s YouTube channel, uploaded after the Sunday servide.

Podcast audio is here.

Amos 7:10-15

Mark 6:14-29

King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”

For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer.” 

Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.

Money, sex, and power combine to make a toxic cocktail.  Power, the abuse of power, manipulation, and violence; this story has it all.   It stirs people’s imagination, which is why there are so many paintings of it; even a play and an opera.  

This is a political story, we should notice. It is about someone called a “king.”  This is a story that holds that so-called king morally accountable.  I guess that means this story mixes politics and religion.   

Many people in our country today have strong feelings about mixing politics and religion.  There seem to be two opposite feelings about it in our country.  Some say politics and religion should never mix under any circumstances.  

Others mix them quite purposefully, but to opposite ends.  On the one hand, Christian nationalism is on the rise in America.  People hold the Bible in one hand and the flag in the other.  They quote the Bible, at least the parts they like, ignoring the parts that they don’t like, and make it sound as though Jesus were a white, middle-class man. You can almost picture him, in this version, being concerned about his lawn and his golf game.  

On the other hand, some people see politics and religion mixed in an opposite way.   They look at the Bible’s many calls for justice for the poor, inclusion of the outcast, and the equality of all people made in God’s image, and conclude that God’s will must include political as well as personal morality.  

I admit that this is my view which I feel called to, precisely because of the Bible.  The whole history of the prophets of Israel, as our Amos reading illustrated, is a record of repeated criticisms by the prophets of injustices and abuses of power by the people in political control.  

Often the prophets paid a high price for that criticism, just as John did, just as Jesus did.  

God Cares

Here is the point that is inescapable, for me.  God cares about all of the people created in God’s image.  All people have dignity.  All people are worthy of respect.  All people belong in God’s family; no exceptions.  And so when humans are hurt by those in power, when there is corruption and abuse of power, God cares.  

That is what this story is about.  The story takes some liberties with the facts.  Mark calls Herod “king.”  He’s not actually a king.  His father was Herod the Great, a client-king that Rome tolerated — but that had all changed after his death. The Herod of this story, called Herod Antipas, was in charge only of the region of Galilee, where Nazareth is.

Why would Mark call him “king” if he were not?  Probably to mock him.  In the story, Herod gives himself a birthday party like a king might do, and promises half his “kingdom” to the dancer who famously “pleased him.”  

Why mock him?  Because he is completely pathetic.  Not only is he not really a king, he is not even in control of anything, as we will see.

From the beginning of the story, without any spoiler alert, we are told the conclusion: Herod is responsible for the death of Jesus’s cousin, John the Baptist.  

In fact, Mark tells us that Herod fears that Jesus is actually John, come back to life,   which would be potentially bad news for his killer.  Herod then, is living in some kind of guilt and dread.  Mark tells us: 

“when Herod heard of it [Jesus’ growing fame], he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.” 

How it came to this

What follows is the description of how Herod came to behead John.  We find out that it wasn’t his idea; that in fact he was fascinated by John, he even “feared him” because he recognized him as a “righteous man.”  

So why was John being held at all?   He had offended Herod’s wife, Herodias, by calling into question the legitimacy of their union.  She used to be Herod’s brother’s wife.  

Now, it is true that the law of Moses forbids a man to marry his brother’s wife (Lev. 18:16; 20:21), but there is more reason than just that to oppose this union.   Herod was also her uncle.  (see Mark, by Joel Marcus, Yale Anchor, 394)

In the English version of the story we read, it says, 

“John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.”

“Not lawful” is a bit of a free translation of the text that originally says something more like: “it isn’t done” meaning it’s morally out of bounds.  

Now, of course that criticism made Ms. Herodias angry, but let’s not rush past what is happening here.  John the baptist is presuming that Herod and his family are not at the top of the moral food chain, free to consume at will.  

This means that they are under obligations that supersede them in power and authority.  John is saying  that they are not in charge.  God is.  

No one is above the law

This is why politics and religion mix.  No one is above the moral law.  No king, no president, no member of Congress or anybody, no matter how powerful, is free of moral obligations.  

Just as Amos confronted king Ahab, so John confronted Herod.  Later, Jesus himself will confront the powers that be in Jerusalem, and he too will pay with his life for it.

The central point is actually not that Herod’s marriage violated the law from Leviticus.  The central point is that the governmental authority is not the highest authority.  

Perhaps this is what was most offensive to Herod’s wife — that her family’s authority was, after all, penultimate; accountable to standards of morality and ethics that they were not free to flaunt.  

Ridiculous and Creepy Herod

The way Mark tells this story makes Herod looks ridiculous and for good reason.  At his party, his step-daughter, the daughter of his brother, who is actually also his own niece, does what normally only the prostitutes of that world did — dance for the men.  

There are lots of paintings of this dance but all of the paintings I have seen get it wrong.  They make the dancer a mature woman.  But Mark calls her a “girl” — and, back then, females, post-puberty, were not called “girls” as they sometimes are in our culture.  Mark expects us to be horrified by the “delight” this child-dancer gave to Herod.

Mark completes the picture of Herod he has been painting by recording the ridiculous promise Herod gave her of “up to half my kingdom” — as if his administration of a morsel of Roman territory gave him the right to make that foolish offer.  

Then, we watch his wife manipulate her own daughter and her husband, at the same time, by demanding the beheading of innocent, righteous John.  

So What?

Why are we given such a disgusting story?  What does it mean to us?  

This is crucial.  At the very center of our faith is the cross; the instrument of execution used by a corrupt government to execute an innocent person, Jesus.  By itself, that should be enough to make it clear to all of us that governmental power may be used for illegitimate ends. 

Holding Accountable

It is right to hold everyone accountable.  This is why we must not ever allow Christianity to become the handmaiden or chaplain to any political party.  We must be ready to hold accountable anyone and everyone in office.  We may have strong political positions, but we cannot wear any jersey uncritically.  

Just because something is legal, today, does not make it right. For example, laws like Citizens United make it legal to flood the political process with dark money; that does not make it right.  

And just because something is illegal, today, does not make it wrong.  Giving water to someone waiting to vote is not wrong, even if Georgia’s laws say so today.

Laws are human products, often made by people with vested interests. The Christian tradition, which we inherit from our Jewish ancestors, calls us to hold our entire political process up to scrutiny, and if necessary, criticism.  

We want what we believe God wants: that all people would be free of oppression and discrimination. We believe humans have rights to basic standards necessary for life, just because they are humans.  

We believe that everyone should be treated equally, without regard to gender or gender identification, race, sexual orientation, religion, or any other condition.   

This is because we believe we are all created by and loved by God.  We are God’s people and the sheep of God’s pasture.  It is to God alone that we give our ultimate allegiance. 

The Jesus Issue

Sermon for July 4, 2021, Pentecost 6B

Audio is here.

Video is here (following the Sunday service) at the YouTube channel of the Central Presbyterian Church, Fort Smith, AR.

Mark 6:1-13

He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

“It doesn’t matter how other families do it, in our family, we do it this way.” — my mother used to tell us.   

My parents had high standards for us kids which we often had a hard time living up to.  

But most, if not all of those standards became ingrained in us, and we carry them with us now, as adults.  

There will always be a gap between the standards we affirm, and the way we live.  I believe in having a clean and tidy home and always showing respect and being kind, but I do not always live up to those standards.  

The same is true of our country.  We have high standards that we all learned as children and carry with us as adults.  On the other hand, we all know that our country has never fully lived up to those standards.  

Israel’s High Standards

Similarly, ancient Israel had high standards which, historically, they were not able to live up to.  In their ancient national charter, the Law or Torah, ascribed, according to the story, to Moses, the standards set for their life together were remarkably enlightened.  

For example, the Sabbath law provided a day of rest, every week for everyone, free people, enslaved people, resident foreigners, and even for animals.  

The enslaved persons who worked inside the house at Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello did not even get that benefit, we just learned, on the tour, on our visit there recently.  

The Law of Moses also included a law providing for debt forgiveness every seventh year, and the return of all land to its original owner every seventieth year.  

If those laws were practiced, there would never develop a permanent poor class.  

In addition, every third year, the tithes paid to the temple were to be kept in the towns where they were collected for the support of the poor, the widows, and the immigrants.  

I don’t want to paint an idyllic and incorrect picture; other laws about the role of women and sexuality, for example, would horrify us today.  Nevertheless, those standards  I mentioned were brilliant and noble aspirations.  

But as soon as Israel evolved from a tribal confederacy into a monarchy, those ideals were left behind in the dust bin of history, never to be achieved.  

It is tragically possible to give lip service to high standards without having the courage and discipline required to achieve them.  

Jesus’ High Standards

Jesus also had high standards.   He had a vision of what life could be like, and it was a beautiful, noble vision.  He called it the kingdom of God.  

The standards for life in the Kingdom of God included the requirement of forgiving each other in the community, instead of seeking vengeance.  

Those standards included inclusive table fellowship with excluded, marginalized people, and people with bad reputations.  

But because those high standards are not our default way of living, when Jesus proclaimed the Kingdom of God, he also included the demand to “repent.”  

I hate the word “repent” today, because it has been freighted with concepts of guilt, shame, self-loathing, and judgmentalism.  But originally, to Jesus, it simply meant “to change your thinking,” with the implication that when you think differently you live differently.  

When you hold people to high standards, some of them get offended.  In our text, we heard about how the people in Jesus’ hometown were offended by his teaching.  How could a hometown boy be telling his elders that they needed to think differently?  So Jesus took his mission out on the road, and sent out his disciples with the same vision.  Some were inspired, others took offense.  

Notice what Jesus was doing: he was holding his own fellow Israelites to the standards to which they all gave lip service as they read the Law of Moses and the prophets every Sabbath in the synagogue service.   If anyone objected that no other nation acted according to those standards, I can just hear Jesus saying what my mother said: 

“maybe in other nations, they do it differently, but in our nation, we do it this way.”  

We forgive.  We live inclusively.  We provide for the poor and the immigrant.  We practice justice and radical hospitality.  

God’s Standards

We are different because we have a different understanding of God.  We do not believe that God is our pet, tribal God; one among many.  We believe that God is the God of all people; the Creator; the Source from whom all the families of the earth take their name.  

We believe that all people are created in God’s image, and therefore must be treated with respect and dignity.  God is the source of these high standards we affirm.  God is the one who is ultimately calling us to live this way, even if no one else does.  

Holding Us Accountable 

And so, just like Jesus, and just like all of the ancient prophets of Israel before him, we too find it appropriate and even necessary to hold our nation accountable to her high standards.  We have, in America, an amazing vision of a free and just society.  

Thomas Jefferson wrote the words to our Declaration of Independence, which we celebrate today, saying, 

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

As we toured Jefferson’s Monticello estate, we heard with sadness how far he was from being able to live up to those standards.  Jefferson himself enslaved over 600 persons in his lifetime, and sired six children by one of them, Sally Hemings.  

Today, we live with the legacy of 400 years of slavery, followed by Jim Crow laws, disenfranchisement, red-lining, segregation, and overt discrimination.  

We know our history, including the lynchings, the massacres at Tulsa, Oklahoma and Elaine, Arkansas, and many other places.  

Even today, in many States, including our own, laws are being passed that look, to fair-minded people, as though their intent is to limit opportunities to vote.  Many believe that if black Senators were elected in Georgia, there must have been massive fraud, even though there has been no evidence of such.  

So, we must hold our nation to high standards.  If we love our country, as we say we do, we must do all that is in our power to make sure we fulfill the promises Jefferson wrote, and the congress adopted, even if they did not fulfill them.  

If all people (not just men, and not just white, property-owning men) are created equal, and if they are all endowed by their Creator with inalienable rights, then let us be patriotic enough to demand that ideal be met at every level of our society.   

Let us love our country the way we love our own families: enough to hold her accountable to the standards she has set for herself.  

And let us go even further, loving the God that Jesus taught us to love, by living as if God were indeed king.  Let us strive, not just for justice, but for the kind of sacrificial lives of compassion and service that Jesus called us to.   

When we say, “In God we trust,”  let us trust that God’s way of forgiveness, inclusion, and compassionate service is the key to having a community of joy and abundance, and a nation we can be proud of.