“Reclaiming
Our Strength”
(Mark 6:1-13,
2 Cor. 12:9-10)
Sermon for Celebration MCC, Naples, FL
Sermon for Celebration MCC, Naples, FL
July 8, 2012
Rev. Brian
Hutchison, M.Div.
If I made a
bumper sticker for today’s Gospel passage (and I know from the parking lot that
some of you love your bumper stickers), it would be very simple: “Jesus was rejected too.” In this passage
from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus returns “home.” Though it is not specifically
mentioned, we can assume that home was Nazareth. Nazareth was where Jesus grew
up as a normal kid, the son of a carpenter. The gospels in our Bible don’t tell
us much about Jesus’ childhood; they instead tend to jump as quickly as
possible into Jesus’ ministry. But we can assume from the way the people of
Nazareth speak of him, that he was seen as “just one of us, nothing special.”
But Jesus
had been away from home long enough, and he had changed enough that people even
questioned his identity. They asked, “Who is this? Isn’t that just Yeshua, the
son of Mary?” Since we know Mary so well as a major figure in the Christian
tradition, some even calling her the Mother of God and the Queen of Heaven, we
may easily overlook what these people are saying. In ancient Israel, people
were not called children of their mother, but rather children of their father.
So to call Jesus the son of Mary (instead of the son of Joseph) was essentially
to call him a bastard. After all, his
conception was questionable- something the community doesn’t seem to forget.
Perhaps it
was this memory or perhaps it was their reluctance to accept a message from a
non-traditional source, but they nonetheless rejected Jesus outright. Though he
knew the old saying that prophets were respected anywhere but their hometown,
Jesus still gave them the benefit of the doubt and tried to teach them the
message of the gospel. He did not prejudge them by never going back home
because they knew him earlier in life. No, instead, he gave THEM the choice of
whether or not to accept his message of unconditional love.
This story
is all too “close to home” so to speak for many of us. Many of us left home
because we knew we would not be accepted there if we came out at LGBT,
feminist, progressive, pro-choice, anti-war, among many other things. Many of
us found new homes in other towns where there are like-minded people. In the
1970s, thousands of gay men and lesbians flocked to San Francisco, New York,
and other large cities to form communities because it was the first time in U.S.
history that we were becoming aware that there were others like us out there.
Prior to the gay liberation movement, the standard was to suffer in silence in
the closet. Now, we know to create spaces of welcome wherever we go, like here.
Poet Mary
Oliver composed this poem that really resonates with me: (The
Journey)
“One day you
finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.
Jesus,
called Jesus of Nazareth (Yeshua ben Nazareth) decided to go home and come out of the closet about who he had
found himself to be: a prophet. In
Jewish society at that time, prophets of old were admired for the work they had
done in turning Israel back to God. Their great works were recorded in
Scripture. But they could not look past the fact that a prophet is not someone
who tells you what you want to hear. Rather, a prophet is someone who
challenges people, calling them to change in some way.
The common
people of Jesus time were stricken with fear, fear primarily of the power of
the Roman Empire. At any time, a Roman official could show up and demand their
livelihood, or even take lives. There was no way to fight back. The Empire was
absolute. So when Jesus shows up preaching a gospel that is rooted in release
from fear, Nazareth was not ready to accept it. Fear made them feel powerful
again, as all their power had been taken away from them. Jesus offered an
escape from the living Hell of a life of fear into a life of love, but they
were just too stubborn. They also could not imagine one of their own as being
more wise than any of them. “Who is he to outshine us?” they might say.
I know this
is also our experience. Our families and those we grew up with can be envious
of our success. “After all, who are you to escape and live a happier life? You
were supposed to stay here and be miserable like the rest of us! That’s what
family’s about!” I care to differ. I know it has been repeated many times over
the past decade or so, but this quote truly speaks to this text. Spiritual
teacher Marianne Williamson writes, “Our deepest fear is not that we are
inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our
light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to
be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small
does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that
other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as
children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light
shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are
liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
Who knows
what happened to the Nazarenes after Jesus left. But I do know that when Jesus
was home, he gave them his all. He spoke prophetically as God had called him to
do. He challenged them to repent,
which simply means to redirect attention from fear to love. This is also the
definition of a miracle according to
A Course in Miracles, which teaches, “Miracles should inspire gratitude, not
awe” (I:31(42)). Perhaps knowing that the people of Nazareth would just be
amazed, bringing attention to himself instead of to the gospel, he was
powerless there.
Many
Christians today have come to think of Jesus as a superhero with super powers.
He was said to have the power to turn water to wine (I’d want that one!), walk
on water, bring people back to life, and many other “deeds of power.” But none
of this was to glorify him. Jesus always pointed to God as the source of all he
did and the gospel of radical love as the reason. Today, let’s separate Jesus
from the superhero image. Jesus was not Superman and Nazareth was not his
kryptonite. Jesus was limited in Nazareth because of a fundamental spiritual
law: God always respects the agency God has given us. God respects our power of
choice.
Look at
your own life. Have you ever tried to change someone else? (If you have ever
had a spouse, I better see your head shaking J.) What
happens? They always push back. And then if we’re stubborn, we try to change
them again… and again… and again. It’s like hitting your head against a wall.
You probably know the old saying, “You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t
make it drink.” Jesus knew that he could lead people to Living Water, but he
could not make them drink. If he had spent any more of his time there trying to
convince the people, he would have been disrespecting himself and handing over
his self-worth to those who didn’t particularly care for him.
How often
do we do this? We get into conflicts with people and out of the need to win or
the need to be right, we keep fighting until we’re spent. It happens in the
church too. (Can you imagine that? J). We
preach the gospel of radical inclusivity and some people just can’t receive it.
And when they preach an exclusive message, we all too often
become doormats because we know that many other people who call themselves
Christian preach that message of exclusivity. I’m here to tell you today what
Jesus said to this: in the presence of such lack of hospitality, shake the dirt
off your feet and walk on. You are called to greater things than to deal with
the lie that anyone is anything less than a child of God. Fear-based doctrine
has no place in MCC, period. If anyone walks away from MCC because they can’t
accept the gospel of radical inclusivity, we simply must release them into
God’s hands and pray that the seeds of love that they received while among us
will someday sprout.
Just
as Jesus was not a superhero, we are not superheros either. We are human. If
you’re in the habit of doing it, stop saying, “I’m just human.” There is no
need to compare ourselves to God in all that God is. Instead, we need to look
to the divinity within, which is what I think Paul teaches us with his second
letter to the Corinthians. To repeat, he writes, “God
said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is
made perfect in weakness." So, I will boast all the more gladly of my
weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. 10 Therefore I am content with
weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of
Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” At first, this may seem like an insult. It’s too easy to read
this text as saying that humility is the same as being a doormat. That’s not
the case at all. Paul is talking here about the ego versus the Higher Self, the
True Self. Out of fear as children, we create the ego to protect us. The ego is
a mask, a false self. It’s the ego that throws insults back at people when they
offend us. The ego can never turn the other cheek. It is the True Self that God
created, so it is the true self that holds our power. God is only able to work
through us when we choose to live through this self. When we live through this
self, we know that what other people think of us is none of our business!
Whether it’s your family of origin, your neighbors, or people on the news,
their egos do not deserve your energy. You are better than that.
Friends,
rejection does not need to be a roadblock. You hold the power within you to
turn rejection into projection- that is projection into the abundant future
that God has prepared for you. Take off this day the burden of fear and lay it
before the throne of grace. Because I can assure you that hidden under that
heavy boulder of fear lays the power to work miracles. Go forward with blessed
assurance and holy boldness! Amen.
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