Scripture
Mark 2:23 - 3:6
23 One sabbath he was going through the grainfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. 24 The Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” 25 And he said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? 26 He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence, which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions.” 27 Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; 28 so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”
3:1 Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. 2 They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. 3 And he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come forward.” 4 Then he said to them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. 5 He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. 6 The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.
Sermon
This is a great story. I think we love moments like this in the Bible where Jesus is his most Jesusy self. He is upsetting people so much that two groups who don’t usually collaborate are working for his destruction, the religious establishment and the current political administration… working together… can you imagine that. And all because of a simple healing. We love watching him go rogue, that hippy Jesus healing on the Sabbath, it seems like a no-brainer, why wait to heal a man. This and other stories we love are always making the Pharisees look so inept and selfish; like they are heartless, power-hungry, regulation-loving jerks… to put it nicely.
We are probably not the first folks who love telling and reading stories like these with zeal. This is why, on more than one occasion I have heard adults say some variation of, “Well, Pastor, the Jews just liked rules, and we don’t need rules. We have Jesus, and we have love.” They say this to me like Jesus invented love and like Christians have not been making all kinds of rules and judgements for 2,000 years. They say this like we didn’t have an inquisition or blue laws or people excluding gay people or women or a host of other suboptimal moments in our Christian history. This trajectory, unchecked, has launched us into a shameful and sinful history of antisemitism for which we would do well to actively repent and help our fellow Christians study this faith with a little more depth and care. We read this passage and we somehow forget that Jesus is a Jewish man in conflict with the religious leadership of his own community, out of love for them. We read this and forget that these practices made him who he was and is to us today. We read this passage and, most dangerously, we forget that we probably have more in common with the Pharisees than we do with Jesus.
We are only two chapters in to the Gospel of Mark, and our readings today are part of a larger pattern. Jesus is in conflict with the religious authority, first for hanging out with sinners in general and tax collectors in particular, then his crew is not practicing the traditional fast… even John the Baptist’s people are practicing the fast right, and now he is raising the stakes by working on the sabbath and not only that… in the midst of his conflict, he is comparing himself the the greatest King in the History of Israel. The conflict is intentional, and if we were the Pharisees we would be annoyed too.
Jesus heals on the Sabbath. When we read these healing accounts we get caught up in the methods, it's a miracle to us because we don’t understand healing in the same way. This is my continual PSA on healing miracles: We should think of it as a different technology and open our eyes to the more challenging miracle about where and when. Healing happened in temples, the same things that Jesus does in the streets happen in the temples. There are ancient reviews... imagine Yelp reviews on stone tablets about healing. People who can’t see recover sight, and people who struggle with movement are able to walk, and people with skin ailments find healing. We shouldn’t assume ancient people are stupid and don’t understand when their body feels better. The thing that is a radical is not the method but the time and place. Jesus healing a man in the synagogue like a rogue MD setting up a free clinic in the lobby of the Med Center. Which would not go over well… I assume. It would be an epic scene even today. You can imagine it, some hippy in the lobby, and the resident calls the Chief of Surgery, Dr. McSmarty and the Chief of Medicine, Dr. McSteamy, and they have an epic debate; nobody is sure about this hippy’s license or who is liable for malpractice and if he is taking insurance and why he didn’t set up an appointment for a non-emergency on Monday like a normal doctor. It would end in an arrest, and Jesus would be banned and barred from the hospital. If they haven’t already, Grey’s Anatomy should make it an episode.
We can see how Jesus would be infuriating. There are reasons for regulations. I personally like knowing my doctor has a license to practice medicine... you probably do too. We can see why the Pharisees are asking questions about Jesus disregarding the Sabbath and the guidance of generations before him. The Sabbath is about rest; even his disciples deserve a rest. Rules and guidance and practices and regulations have purpose, they help us organize our lives, they keep us safe, and they give us a foundation upon which we can thrive… most of the time. But Jesus pushes the religious leaders further. He reminds them that structures can sometimes become rigid and constricting, calcified and frail. Regulations can become agents of harm, even when they were created--like the religious observance of the Sabbath--to give rest and renewal and life. That is why we have to push on institutions sometimes and ask hard questions, because sometimes there is need for change. That’s where Jesus is so much trouble, he pushed on the whole system. He questioned if a religious practice made the faithful indifferent to human suffering. He asks, how do we give life or deal death? How do we, even in seeking the Holy, distort God’s love? I suspect most of us would struggle to answer Jesus.
When I think of these questions, I am quick to think of some loud Christian voices. I have felt particularly frustrated with the voices that dominate the Christian narrative in our country… for a long time, but even more so since they seem to be so connected to real power these days. This week, I listened to the sermon of the Senior Pastor of First Baptist Dallas, he is a frequent guest on Fox News and a pal of our current president. I have struggled with many of his pronouncements over his tenure in this powerful pulpit, particularly when I lived in Dallas and this church was an epicenter of hurt and what I would label “hate speech” toward LGBTQ+ folks. This week, I thought it would be fair if I actually listened to his sermon and tried to move past soundbites. He was preaching a sermon about angels, literal angels, dealing death or mercy or judgment or protection with weapons. It was a 40 minute sermon, and I admit I only made it four minutes, but somehow in the first four minutes he managed to point out that Christianity is superior to Judaism and every other faith, he named Jesus as more powerful, and us all as superior too. Like Jesus was into chanting, “We're #1!” and the disciples carried foam fingers around Galilee. He should have played, “We Are The Champions” in the background… he surely has the staff and logistics to do so. He did all of this, and it wasn’t even the main point of his sermon, just like a PSA about how Christians are ranked on top and better than everyone else.
His sermon this Sunday is titled, “America is a Christian Nation,” and I would argue that if that is true, we are failing. He will stand in his elaborate sanctuary, holding a Bible, and name a Christianity that will feel foreign, at least to me. I look at his title and I ask, “Is this a Christian nation when our leaders say taking a baby out of his mother’s arms is a reasonable strategy to deter immigration and just a matter of policy? Is this a Christian nation when access to health care is more privilege than basic right, and our for-profit prisons are having record profits? Is this a Christian nation when we love guns so much we sell them to everyone in the world, and in 2018, our schools proved more dangerous than military combat zones? Is this a Christian nation when eight white nationalists are openly running for office on a platform of hate? I have some expectations about what would make us Christian, and I don’t even think Jesus would want us to claim any nation as a Christian nation as much as he would want us to claim a path of peace and justice.”
It’s not hard to make a list of all the things that would define us as Christian… like, well, for starters you can’t walk around with signs that say God Hates… well… anybody. You should fight for health care for all people, you should advocate for public schools and better teacher pay, and you should take public transit, and you should only buy organic vegetables from local farmers and probably never shop at… well just about anywhere… forget shopping--that’s so complicated, we need a whole separate list. It becomes really easy to start a list and make an orthodoxy… even a progressive orthodoxy. And then do what they do… say who is in and who is out. Who is and who is not a Christian.
But the thing is I know how that feels, maybe you do too, when someone says, “You’re not a Christian.” I have had plenty of people question my identity as a Christian, some random and hurtful, and some professors and careful. And during seminary, I did too. In fact, a few weeks ago when I sat down after a sermon and Lila, in annoyance, said, “Mommy, why are you always talking about Jesus at the Abbey,” I wanted to send the quote to two professors in particular and say, “See!” It was probably one of the biggest validations I could have received about this Christian Identity I seek to carry.
When I was in seminary, Dr. Marjory Proctor-Smith listened to my questioning and she said, “Debra orthodoxy is a tool of oppression.” Orthodoxy is a tool of oppression; those lists and stories and right answers and creeds didn’t get to define me. They were tools for shaping and exploring, not limiting and controlling. Those tools are man made (usually literally man made). They have agendas sometimes, they can box us in right where we are not too dangerous or too lively. She freed me from orthodoxy, and it was liberating, and it was more work. Lists are easy, seeking is harder.
So what do we do if we can’t throw a list in someones face or etch 10 Bonus Commandments and put them outside First Baptist Dallas… you know for fun? I believe we are called to look to Jesus in this moment. He is constantly brushing into the dominate faith voices of his day, and rather than proposing a new orthodoxy, he is a asking questions. Asking about the practice of the Sabbath that deals death or gives life. We need to engage these questions in our own lives and in the life of our community. We need to speak up and say, “I am a Christian, and I believe we are called to welcome the refugee and the immigrant. It is a part of my faith.” I believe we are call to stand up and say, “I read the Bible, and I read that Jesus told Peter to put his sword away, and Isaiah wants to turn weapons into farm equipment.” I believe we can and should be voice of question and we should be ready to be in hard conversations and name where we are coming from. I believe it is up to us to reject absolutes in favor of conversation and compassion, to acknowledge the shades of gray and make room for depth over bumper-sticker statements. It is up to us to get serious and ask the hard questions of ourselves and our community daily: What gives live?
© Rev. Debra McKnight, Urban Abbey
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