Proper 21
Year B
St. Stephen’s, Orinda
Great things, Thou hast done, O Lord, my God. I would name them and proclaim them, but they are more than I can tell. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Amen.
There are weeks when preaching feels a bit like a multiple choice test. Is your sermon on A) The Old Testament, B) The Psalm, C) The Epistle, D) The Gospel…and if you are a Bishop, E) None of the above. But this week’s lectionary quiz is complicated by our gospel, which feels like several mini-lessons smashed together. There’s a question about exorcisms, a warning against sin and a potential call for bodily mutilation in order to escape the dangers of hell. Finally, our text concludes with a short verse about the virtues of salt.
And that’s just what’s going on in the text—there’s also the a double context we need to consider: where we find this reading in Mark’s gospel, and where we find this reading in our lives.
So, let’s begin with the context of the story within Mark. If you were here last Sunday, our gospel found Jesus “sneaking” through Galilee on his journey to Jerusalem. Jesus has just shared for the second time a prediction about his own rejection and death, but the disciples don’t understand and are too afraid to ask a clarifying question. Instead, the disciples believe that this is an opportune moment to debate among themselves as to who was the greatest. In response, Jesus brings forth a little child, and invites them to not seek greatness, but service. In the context of Mark’s gospel, the disciples aren’t meant to simply follow Jesus on a walking tour of Galilee and Jerusalem—they are meant to follow him to the cross. Leadership isn’t about lordship, it is about service.
So while the broader context of our gospel lesson doesn’t change, as the discourse on leadership continues, the child’s presence is now an example of an impressionable new follower of Christ. The disciples have a responsibility to ensure that this little one does not stumble in their faith. If they put up anything that might cause this little one to stumble, their punishment is the fires of hell.
That progression tracks. Our responsibility as leaders is to be servants…to promote the faith and ensure guardrails that help usher new disciples grow into the full stature of Christ. But breaking up these twin responsibilities is a complaint about exorcisms.
What?
What point is Mark trying to make with this story uncomfortably shoe-horned into a discussion of leadership? The answer is easier than you first might think…
Listen again to John’s complaint: “Teacher, we say someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” Not. Following. Us. “Jesus! Someone is using your name to cast out demons, but we’re upset because we didn’t approve. Sure they are following you but they aren’t listening to us.”
For John, it is difficult to separate leadership from ego. For John, being a disciple, being one of the 12 that Jesus has entrusted with spreading the good news of the kingdom must come with some fringe benefits. Surely, the disciples can be trusted with regulating membership—who is in and who is out. But Jesus corrects this misunderstanding. Whether someone is casting out demons or whether they are simply fetching a cup of water…they are serving in Christ’s name—not the disciples. Not under the approval and auspices of the apostolic commission or any other ecclesiastical hierarchy—to serve in the name of Christ is to follow Christ. To act in any other name or on behalf of any other group is to put up a stumbling block.
Which brings us to the context in which we hear this morning’s gospel. This week was clergy conference, and as I shared in my Rector’s Corner update on Friday—it was a very heavy program. Bishop Austin has hosted a number of listening sessions, to hear the experiences of our diocese. It was similar to the process which we engaged in here a few weeks ago, with some small changes to reflect the three-day long program. There were opportunities to remember and celebrate moments of joy—times in which we have realized the Holy Spirit’s intentions for us as a gathered people. But we also spent hours hearing stories of how people injured by stumbling blocks that were placed in our path in our individual and corporate experience as members of the diocese.
It was not easy listening.
It was not easy, because we were hearing stories of real injury. Stumbling blocks don’t just lead to skinned knees, there was trauma that left open wounds. I sat and listened to these heartbreaking stories. And while not every story fit into this schema, a common feature was this dichotomy of being forced to follow Christ or follow a leader. “Teacher, we say someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.”
Too often…entirely too often, leaders in our diocese were asked to choose who they wanted to follow—and sometimes people stumbled if they chose the name of Christ instead of the “us” within the diocese. Not only did people trip, but sometimes those stumbling blocks were reinforced to actively interrupt their journey on the way.
For centuries, the Church has been called the body of Christ. This morning, we hear Jesus warn us about the dangers of hell. The lesson is that it is better to get into heaven with a mutilated body than to go into hell with our limbs in tact. I wonder if Jesus was speaking about our personal bodies, or about the metaphorical body of the church. This is a moment in the life of the diocese in which we need the skill of a gifted surgeon. We need to carefully examine, and if necessary, excise the parts of the body which serve not Christ, but ego and hierarchy.
Sharing these stories of stumbling blocks is an important first step. Awknowledigng the deep hurts are a crucial first step in closing those wounds.
Closing thoughts-
“Gesthemene” Watching the weight of these stories press down on our bishop.
Pray for our leaders.
Pray for those who have been hurt by the church.
The question we now need to ask ourselves is “Who will we follow—Jesus or the institutional ‘us.’"
