“SHALL Is an Interesting Word” (Mark 12:28-34 )

Wayne Teasdale lives and works in Chicago. Over time he has grown in appreciation for the homeless. He meets a homeless woman named Carol on Adams Street by Union Station where one of the main commuter trains arrives and departs. He meets a man who refers to himself as the “Saint” in Hyde Park where Teasdale lives. He meets Jerome on the stairs to the Metra train at Fifty-Third Street on Chicago’s south side.

A Christian man, Teasdale makes it a central goal of his spiritual practice to move beyond noticing these people to engaging them---conversing with them, learning their stories, hugging them. Teasdale notes, “When we get to know them, we realize that the situation is much more complicated, that our society doesn’t provide much leeway for human frailties. We also learn that they are us. The homeless want to be seen, affirmed, and accepted. They want to be happy and avoid suffering. They need a sense of home—to actually have a home, even a room, which they can enter, close the door to, and live in peace. “

And so Teasdale is personable with the homeless—like he is with persons who are not homeless. He has moved from annoyance, resentment, and inconvenience to spontaneous compassion. He has come to realize that these people are precious---as Jesus did.

Janis rises early, before the neighborhood turns on their kitchen lights and makes their first cup of coffee and turns their dogs out for their first “sniff of the lawn.” She finds the Bible with a bookmark placed in the psalms, and she opens the book she has chosen of late from the bookstore to read that offers spiritual food. A book that sheds a little light on how it is she wants to be with God: patient, faithful, prayerful, compassionate, supportive, and forgiving. She lights a candle in the darkness, reminding her that the light is a present reality. She sets a little timer for twenty minutes and turns off the chatter in her mind.

Even when her life doesn’t make sense—she’s divorced, her son struggles with depression, her daughter is estranged, her work environment is stressful and she’s long since passed the legal age when she can retire—she makes time to listen to God. Janis observes “God is our most loyal and beautiful companion. God is worth rising for and sitting still with. But I wasn’t always this dedicated. If you had met me in my twenties, you wouldn’t have ever thought God would have a chance with me.” 

What Teasdale and Janis have in common is CHANGE. They are not who they once were. Janis can recall the years from her youth when life was all about her and she lived and loved quite selfishly. Teasdale can remember the years when he encountered the homeless on every corner in Chicago and gave them a couple of dollars just so they would leave him alone.

But that’s not who they are not. Teasdale tries to see the needs of the homeless and meet them without judgment. Janis gives God the first hour of the day—her “first fruits.” They do not tell their stories with pride but with awe. Like Mary of Nazareth, wife of Joseph and mother of Jesus, they exclaim “My soul magnifies the Lord.” What they mean is that God has mysteriously but most definitely increased in them and it was not their doing---and they are paying just enough attention to notice it.

This alone is quite a miracle, this paying attention to what God is accomplishing in one’s life despite what is happening in one’s life. It’s so easy to identify with one’s joys and sorrows and one’s losses and gains or one’s age or bank account—thinking it is about this or about that we are experiencing in our OUTER life. It’s equally just as easy to miss the grace God is tucking inside one’s spirit, or the way God is opening you to the value of all things—the homeless, the environment, God’s very self.

·        Someone once said that when something happens once it is a miracle, then after that it is normal. Our grandchildren remind us of this all of the time. Every time Target changes their seasonal display the granddaughters’ clap—just like they clap for noodles and rain puddles. You and I, well, what are we clapping for these days? Is anything a miracle?

Our lesson from the Gospel of Mark invites us to clap for every ounce of compassion God has managed to emit from our hearts. And that’s the insight: God is determined to grow us into compassion. In fact, God promises us that God will grow us in compassion! Where does God promise us that? In the gospel of Mark, chapter 12:28-34 where we encounter an interesting choice of a word in relationship to the delivery of greatest commandment God ushers. The word is SHALL as in “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” It means “expressing a strong intention.” The 1960’s ushered in the anthem “We Shall Overcome.” The movement away from racism in our country wasn’t a should, or a must, it was we shall—it will happen.

God doesn’t say in our lesson text we MUST love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength, or that we should. God says we SHALL. It will happen. I like Christian author Frederick Buechner’s observation that “the words YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR GOD (and NEIGHBOR) become in the endless a command than a promise.” God will deliver within us a heart for God and humanity.

It’s hard fought on both ends, isn’t it, this giving birth to compassion? Talk about the world groaning in labor! God removing the obstacles to our resistance to love—while at the same time our being willing to be taught by God; to be raised by the scriptures and the Spirit! As Jesus noticed it is easy to love persons who admire us and who are born to us or married to us—but persons who test us and are unfamiliar to us and so seemingly different than us, well? And it is so much easier to respond to the material world than it is to respond to the Spirit. How do we do that; how do we listen for God’s still, small voice?

Is it no coincidence that the story of God transforming us from hearts of stone to hearts filled with love is told over and over again through a variety of familiar children’s stories?

·        In Margery Williams’ the Velveteen Rabbit we are “loved real.”

·        In Dr. Suess’ the Grinch Who Stole Christmas the Grinch’s heart grows three sizes in one day.

·        In Hans Christian Andersons’ the Ugly Duckling the little swan who thinks he is a terrible excuse for a duck learns that he is a beautiful bird after all—only he’s a bird of a different feather so to say.

·        In Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol Scrooge’s hard-heartedness is confronted by three different spirits whose purpose is to mirror back to him the truth about his existence—he is void of mercy. In this story we understand that the three different spirits represent the work of the Holy Spirit; it’s role, which is to awaken us to our potential to be love, like Christ.

·        And then there is the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy, the Tin Man, the Cowardly Lion, and Scarecrow all discover that they already had everything they needed to live a beautiful life---community, heart, courage, brains. This is the gift of enlightenment: we have everything we need. We simply forget who we are!

Perhaps you can think of other stories where we meet our God’s promise to us to love us where we are but to not let us stay that way! It’s as if a clue to the journey of the human spirit from fear to compassion is written everywhere…so that we might remember.

Oh there is so much more to a life than what any of us can see…or that anyone can see in us! Can we simply pause for a minute and embrace the magnanimity of God’s work? Let’s give awe and wonder some room to bless us.

The Gospel of Mark urges us to make a shift make a shift in our spirit—a shift from charting our successes and loses in the material world—to observing our successes and loses in the spiritual world. God isn’t interested in our failures; God is interested in what motivates us. God isn’t interested in our religion; God is interested in our relationships---is everyone precious—is God precious?

Ah-ha! God is making good on God’s promise! We shall love! And every step along the way is a miracle…that asks to be noticed.

Prayer: Amazing God, thank for making good on your great promise that we shall love you and neighbor. Give us ears to listen and hearts that surrender to the impulses of your love. Amen.

(This sermon was preached by Reverend Dana Keener on November 1, 2015 at Central Christian Church in Billings, Montana.)

"The Foolishness of Faith" (Mark 12:38-44)

Jesus and the disciples are sitting in the vicinity of where people come to give their offerings at the temple.  They are casually watching the activity around the offering box . . . they witness rich people coming in and making big offerings--throwing in a big chunk of change . . . and, they are impressed.  Yet, at the same time they witness a widow who comes and throws in what little she has . . . well, actually all she has.  He praises the actions of this woman.  Jesus commends her for giving.  As followers of Jesus who are witnessing this event many generations later, we are impressed with the widow's giving and laud her as a generous individual.  And, as far as we can tell from the writer of Mark's gospel, so do the disciples.

But . . . wait a minute!

This isn't the whole story!  Didn't we hear about more than just the widow's generosity in our reading this morning?  Yes, we did.  In the first half of our reading this morning we heard Jesus condemn the leaders of the law . . . condemn those who were the ones in power and control . . . those who were in power.  Jesus pointed out that they were hypocrites more concerned with image than substance . . . more concerned with status than actually living up to the spirit of the law.  Jesus condemned them.  Jesus said, “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets.  They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely.”   Those sound pretty much like words of condemnation.

These individuals . . . this group that Jesus is referencing . . . are the ones who control and run the temple.  They are the ones who make the decisions.  They are the temple.  I don't think there is a real argument there.  Yet, if this is the case . . . then isn't the offering--the money, that the widow is making . . . isn't that going to support those Jesus just condemned?  And, if it is, isn't that a pretty stupid thing to do?  To support the ones who continue to oppress you?  Isn't there a contradiction taking place here?  On the one hand, Jesus is condemning the powers to be--all the bigwigs, while praising the widow for supporting them.  Isn't that a contradiction?

Okay, maybe I am missing the point here.  True, what the widow gives is more than what the so-called important people give.  That is nothing new.  It has been happening since the time churches and temples began taking offerings.  Research has shown--for many decades now, that those in the lowest income brackets have always given more of their income than those in the higher tax brackets . . . . percentage wise those in the lowest tax brackets have always given more of their income to the church and charity than those making much, much more.  Research proves this time after time.  Those who can least afford it, always put more in the plate than those who can afford it.   Yes, the rich put more in the plate, but the poor put a greater percentage of their overall wealth into the plate.  To this Jesus offers praise.

To the others he offers condemnation: “Watch out for the teachers of the law. They like to walk around in flowing robes and be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and have the most important seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at banquets. They devour widows’ houses and for a show make lengthy prayers. These men will be punished most severely.”

Simply put . . . the widow's offering goes to support the one thing that is oppressing her.  Is Jesus talking out of both sides of his mouth in this passage?

I doubt it.

Instead I think that Jesus raises a conundrum . . . raises something we should think about . . . especially as the church . . . as the “body of Christ".  What he raises for us to consider is the foolishness of faith.

Think about it . . . is it not foolish to think that giving money to the organization that squishes you--in hopes that it will help you--is foolish?  Especially in light of the fact that even Jesus can see that those in control are stealing, cheating, and ignoring those they are suppose to be helping.  So, why keep supporting them?  Jesus even says that those in control are not doing the job . . . not living up to the call of God . . . the call of God to serve . . . to love others . . . to love God and God's ways.

Woe be to those who do this!

And, woe be to those who practice this foolishness of faith. No, they will not end up in the fiery punishment of hell . . . but, at the same time, they are not ever going to get what they need or what they believe.  No, what they are going to get is a whole lot of frustration.

Yes, Jesus praises the faith of the widow; yet, at the same time he raises the question of blinded loyalty to that which is believed to actually help.  One would think that of all the places that should help the widow in the story that it would be the temple . . . but how could the temple ever help others when it was so centered on itself and how it looked to the world around it?  In this situation, the temple becomes the pawn in the hands of those who are in control.

The call of God is really quite simple.  Jesus explained it to us time after time.  The call of God is to love the Lord completely . . . to love God with all that we are created to be . . . to love God wholly and holy.  The call of God is to love others . . . to love others as God loves us . . . to love others as we love ourselves.  Boiled down into simpler terms, the call of God is to love.  When we love we care about the others in our lives that we encounter . . . we want what God wants for them.  We want to be family in its truest sense.

In such love we are not concerned how we look to the rest of the world.  No, we are only concerned how we  look to God and to those we serve out of love . . . to those we are helping.  In such love we do what we have to do.  We are not the center of attention, we are only the conduit of God.  And, because this is the case, shouldn't we pause for a moment and consider what it is that we are truly offering to God and others?

The widow was a person of faith.  She believed in God . . . she believed in what God's earthly manifestation represented--God's presence in the world . . . and, she whole-heartedly supported it with all that she had.  She did it even though the reality showed that it did not care one iota about here or her station in life.  The widow had faith . . . even though it was nothing more than a foolishness of faith. 

She was a woman betrayed.  Those who betrayed her would pay a heavy price for their actions.  As Jesus said, "Woe be to them!"

These are words of warning to those of us who claim to be followers of Jesus.  Words that implore us to look at our own faith . . . our own actions . . . as people who follow Jesus. Are we like the ones Jesus condemns . . . more image than substance?  Are we providing that which we claim we provide as the followers of Jesus?  Or, are we just going through the motions, saying what people want to hear, and totally ignoring the fact that we really are not serving anyone or anything but ourselves? Are we like the teachers of the law?

I don't know.

What I do know is that we need to consider what we think we are . . . to consider that and put it up against what we are actually doing?  Are the two congruent?  Do the words that we proclaim line up with what we do?  Are we fooling ourselves?

I don't know.  Only God knows.  In the end . . . God will let us know.  Let aus not allow ourselves to fall into the foolishness of faith.  No, let us demand of ourselves that the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts truly line up with the actions of our lives.  Amen.

“Take Away the Stones” (John 11:32-45)

They had come to Jesus because their brother—Jesus’ friend—was sick.  These sisters—Mary and Martha—believed that Jesus could heal their brother; but, Jesus did not jump up and run to bring healing upon their brother.  No, Jesus stayed put and Lazarus dies much to the chagrin of his sisters.  Needless to say, Mary and Martha are sad and disappointed.  Now Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days when Jesus finally arrives . . . deader than a door knob and getting quite smelly lying in the tomb. 

Mary could not hide her disappointment, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”  Seeing the sobbing of the sisters, hearing the wailing of the mourners, Jesus was disturbed.  Mary told him to “come and see” when Jesus asked where he was laid.  The reality was setting in . . . Jesus was moved to tears.  Those who witnessed is tears understood how much he loved his friend, Lazarus . . . yet, at the same time, they were curious as to how a person who could make a blind person see did not keep his friend from dying.

True, in the start of this story that was not shared in this reading this morning; Jesus had stated that this would happen . . . that it would be a show of the power of God . . . that Lazarus would die.  He told the disciples that in the end it was all necessary in order for them to believe.  And, sure enough, it happened just as Jesus said it would happen . . . Lazarus was dead and had been dead for several days before Jesus showed up.  He had been in the tomb for four days when Jesus arrived.  There ain’t much hope for a person who had been dead for four days. 

Yet, Mary came to him believing that he could save Lazarus from the illness that ailed him . . . she believed that Jesus could keep him from dying . . . believed that if Jesus only showed up everything would be fine.  Thus she was a little appalled when Jesus shows up too late.  Those who had seen him perform miracles had also believed . . . they believed that Jesus could have cured Lazarus of his illness, kept him from dying . . . believed that Jesus could do this; but, he didn’t and now it was too late.

The writer of this gospel does not explain the reason for Jesus’ emotional response when he asks to see where they had laid his friend.  The writer does not tell the reason for Jesus’ tears.  No, the writer only tells us that Jesus “. . . was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”  The writer leaves that up to the conjecture of the reader and listener of this story.  One could think that it had to do with the fact that Jesus did not like seeing those he loved suffer . . . did not like seeing them cry.  One could think that maybe it had to do with the knowledge he had that he could have prevented this whole mess had he only done as Mary had asked him to do.  One might believe that Jesus understood that this was an unfair situation to thrust upon his friend . . . to allow him to die, just to prove a point to his disciples and those who would witness the miracle.  You can believe whatever you want to believe, but the writer gives us no clue as to why Jesus weeps beyond the fact that he “. . . deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”

So, they go to the tomb. 

Here at the tomb the glory of God would be revealed . . . just as Jesus had told Mary when she first came to ask him for help.  But Mary, Martha and those gathered around, could not understand . . . could not believe . . . how the glory of God would be revealed through the body of a dead man.  When Jesus asks them to remove the stones that sealed the tomb, Martha insists that it is too late . . . Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days . . . he was deader than dead.  “But, Lord,” Martha said, “by this time there is a bad odor . . .”  For those gathered, the whole situation was beginning to stink.

Yet, Jesus remained staunch in his words . . . “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”  He remained adamant in request . . . in his actions . . . he wanted the stones removed.  With the removal of the stones it all came to be . . . Lazarus was restored to life . . . the people witnessed the glory of God . . . there was belief.  They discovered faith.

“Take away the stones,” he said.

Isn’t that the secret to any relationship?  Isn’t that the key to intimacy?  You have to remove the barriers . . . the stones . . . that keep the light out . . . that hide the truth . . . that separates.  Jesus knew that by removing the stones the glory of God would be revealed in the resurrection of Lazarus . . . that in seeing a dead man restored to life . . . the people would believe.  That they would discover faith.  With the stones removed the writer of this gospel tells us that “. . . therefore many of the Jews who had come to visit Mary, and had seen what Jesus did, put their faith in him.”

With the stones removed the people could see.  So it is for all of us.

I imagine that we could all names the stones that keep us from seeing . . . that keep us from believing . . . because we all have them.  It could be the many obvious ones like prejudice, race, education, wealth, poverty, dogmatism, culture . . . we all could probably name a few of these as they usually fall under the various “isms” we all know.  It could be our traditions and having always doing the things that we have always done in the same way over and over again.  It could be any number of things that separate us from God and one another . . . stones that shut out the light . . . that hides the truth . . . that keeps us from believing and having that relationship with God and one another.  It does not matter what the stones are in each of our lives . . . we all have to identify them on our own; what matters is that we begin to recognize them as being barriers that separate  and keep us from truly seeing the glory of God in our lives.

What matters is Jesus telling us to “move the stones.”

Jesus tells us, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”  Faith begins with the removal of stones . . . begins with removing that which keeps us from seeing the light . . . that keeps us from experiencing the truth.  Jesus can reveal it, but we have to move the stones first.  Until the stones are moved we can never truly experience the glory of God . . . we can never have faith.

Jesus said, “Take away the stones.”  Amen.