The right lens, "A or B"
Commentary
One thing that I don't look forward to is the periodic visit to the optometrist. It is not so much the thought of having air blown into my eye or a day spent in a visual fog from the numbing drops that puts me off. What really irritates me is the process of determining the new lens prescription. As the examiner goes through the run of lenses to find my best prescription, I do my best to determine the answer to the question: "A or B, which is clearer?" Too much reading, too much exposure to the sun, and just plain spending too much time using my eyes -- leave me little choice but to work my way through the exam on an annual basis. I am well acquainted with the procedure. However, having been trained to look on all sides of a question and take into account a number of varied viewpoints, I have a hard time with the forced choices. My medical mentor expects more clarity of conviction as to what is clear than I am able to muster. "Well, yes ... Oh ... No, not exactly ... I'm not sure," certainly does not speed things along. He has more patients to see, and I have things to do. But I just can't decide: "A or B." I hedge my bets. My frustration builds, and the doctor has his suspicions about ministers once again confirmed. It is a sorry story repeated annually.
Getting clarity even on the basics of vision is more complex than we think. It always seems like a trade off. One lens brings something into focus leaving other things in a slight blur. Another corrects for astigmatism while not doing much to bring into focus the fine print. Some lenses of study bring into sharp relief the seamier aspects of a congregation's history while leaving the strengths and potential a smudged blur. My glasses, now up to trifocals, are a miracle of twisted and molded plastic covering a multitude of eye maladies. I say, "Hats off," to the men and women in the lab who will bravely put all this together.
"A or B," which is clearer? When it comes to a particular congregation the answer will depend on the day you ask me. The world is going to hell in a handbasket, or we live on the cusp of some of the greatest potential in human history: depends on which newspapers I read and on what day I read them. I am God's gift to the world -- a long-suffering saint ... or I am a pimple on the face of progress, which is better, "A or B"? Of course, the truth is that the best results will come from some combination of the two. However my ocular inquisitor does not offer me that choice. In the end, one lens will have to do the job to bring the near, the far, and in-between into focus.
The lectionary texts offered to us for this Sunday provide lenses that function somewhat as trifocals, attempting to bring into focus human experience and divine reality. The Isaiah text asks us to lift up our eyes on high and see. It seems that the usual point of focus may be missing the mark. In the letter to the Corinthians, Paul tries on his own trifocals. He attempts to bring focus to his ministry by directing his gaze to the life and circumstance of those who are under the law, those outside the law, and the weak. In Mark's lesson, after meeting with initial success ministering at Simon's house, things fall out of focus because Jesus is nowhere to be found.
Like my trifocals it sometimes takes three different focal points in order to see the big picture.
Isaiah 40:21-31
The context of the Isaiah passage is the return from exile. Yet there are two focal points to be observed. It is "return" and "not return" at the same time. Of course, there is the physical reality that there is a homecoming to the promised land from the place of exile. Yet, it is "not return" as well. Can anything ever be the same again? There are new stories to tell of courage in the face of temptations to surrender your distinctiveness to the surrounding culture. There are stories to tell of families shamed by the surrender of some of their members to the surrounding culture. Getting these stories into focus will lead to the consolidation of most of what we know as the Bible. The air will be filled with past glories and future uncertainties.
In the midst of this time, the words of the prophet calls the Hebrews to look up and consider the larger picture of God's power and purpose. "Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable." The prophet invites the reader to consider that something else might be up here; a return to something that will never be the same anyway. Rather than give this possibility the evil eye, give it a second look.
A recent trip to the newly opened War Museum in Ottawa, Canada, gave me a second look that brought things into focus. The museum looks like the prow of a ship that has somehow managed to wedge its way into downtown Ottawa. Then again, look long enough and it begins to look something like a jet airplane that has landed on the downtown. From the another angle, it appears to be a tank that is rolling through the streets of Canada's capital. Looking from above it appears to be a trench that some kind of giant earthmover has left in its wake. That is precisely the effect that the architect wanted to convey. The interior of the building, without straight lines, does a good job of conveying the chaos of war. I do not recall ever being lost in a museum for so long. The floor pattern keeps you alert, defies easy navigation, and robs you of an easy stroll.
The War Museum has its share of triumphant boasting. That Canadians were able to cart home Hitler's limousine is a particular point of honor.
Yet, as one goes about the various displays, you find a sense of tranquility replacing the awareness of the futility of war. What goes on here? I found myself in a conversation with the vice-president of the museum who explained the feelings that were overcoming me. He said that the museum was designed around the theme of regeneration. He could have said resurrection. The prow of the ship points to the Peace Tower on Parliament Hill. The roof is covered in green grass that shows evidence of reclaiming what looks like a WWI trench. In one area, that to date only a few visitors find, he showed me that on November 11 of each year the sunlight follows a marble line in the floor and at 11 a.m. hits the gravestone that had once covered the grave of Canada's unknown soldier (before he was interred in the national cenotaph). Of course, the date and time marks the end of the First World War.
In short, peace breaks out. Human hopes for rescue from the fierceness of life or our longing for return to something that looks like the "good old days" will not be satisfied. Neither complete return nor total rescue is in the cards; but something on the order of resurrection is possible. "Have you not heard?" Here is the essence of the biblical pageant that peaks in the good news of Easter morning. Those who wait upon or hope in the Lord shall find new things coming into focus for they will see with an "eagle eye."
"Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable." God knows the story of those who will claim too much because they successively resisted the overtures of the surrounding culture. God knows the narrative of those who have hoped too little and surrendered too much. God will give power to the faint and strengthen the powerless. God is about something much more than return, or even rescue. Keep this in focus and much will become come clear: enough to continue the faith journey despite our weariness and weakness.
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Obviously, Paul is struggling here with his authority and standing. It seems that, not unlike Jesus, Paul found that in his ministry he had to endure the attack of those who felt that his message was more threatening than liberating. The easiest way to undercut a preacher was, and is, to hack away at their credentials. His Judaism, his Christian qualifications, his learning, authenticity, and intensity were all maligned.
The gospel writers remembered that Jesus authoritatively cast out demons. People of authority, like chief priests and the scribes, questioned the authority of Jesus and tried to trick him with a question about the authority of John the Baptist.
Untimely born, yet experiencing the fullness of time; not prone, though capable of speaking in tongues; citizen of Rome, yet looking to heaven; taking no back seat to any Jew, yet able to live beyond the law -- Paul lived with a double focus in his ministry. What does seem beyond him is looking at things through anything less than two foci. His "this on the one hand ... but that on the other," approach would seem less than authoritative until we see that a third focal point is tri-angled into the picture in a way that gives authority to Paul's words and power to his life. "For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God." Without the cross, the central experience of Paul's life cannot come into focus.
In this lectionary passage Paul takes up the cross of focusing on his life and the lives of others simultaneously in a way that reflects the meaning of Jesus' cross. He is a man who is not about the authoritative power to classify people, as worthy and unworthy, clean and unclean, free or slave, Jew or Gentile. Of course, our world wreaks of the authority to classify people by putting them in their assigned place in the various scheme of things. The sketch "Two Wild and Crazy Guys" performed by Steve Martin and Dan Akroyd on Saturday Night Live captured the pathetic attempt of two eastern European immigrants to slot themselves into the swingy lifestyle of the modern American empire. Teen magazines portray the clean and unclean body types of thinness and obesity. The historical statistician reminds us that we have a noticeable proclivity for voting for the tallest presidential candidate. We all carry around a hefty bag of slots in which to put people. Maybe there is neither Jew nor Gentile, but in some churches there is a premium on the right theological accent in their preacher, cultivated at the right seminary. Some can remember when some American churches even put a premium on the right Scottish burr on Sunday morning. Some sociologists suggest that we have something like upward of thirty seconds or so before we are slotted in place by our first impression.
In his ministry, Paul poses a new basis of authoritative power. If Paul casts out any demons it will not be because of his capacity to put people in their place, but by taking up the cross of putting himself in their place. "I have become all things to all people that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings."
I gravitate not necessarily to the teacher that knows all but to the teacher who knows me; who is willing to enter into and appreciate and learn from my world. I appreciate the physician who knows not only the latest medical protocols but who knows what it is to be sick. In a world of "Donald Trump and Martha Stewart wannabes," I relish people who have the common touch over and above the Midas touch. Paul demonstrates in this section of 1 Corinthians, that though he is free of legalism, though he is a man of considerable strength and theological acuity, he can enter into another's world in redemptive ways: the obsessive, the unrelentingly theologically obtuse, and the unquestionably weak.
Paul has found himself sharing in the blessings of this gospel by taking up this cross of Jesus. In some sense clarity has come through being "cross eyed."
Mark 1:29-39
The gospel writer indicates that Jesus and the disciples are headed toward serious success. With the curing of many diseases, the silencing of demons, the healing of Simon's mother-in-law, the early Christian movement is about to become a player in the affairs of Jesus' world. At least that is how it would appear. Yet, at the height of their early success Jesus withdraws, leaving Simon searching for him and the rest wondering if their hunt for the Messiah has only just begun. Just when things are falling into place, Jesus takes off to be alone and pray. While this may not be a career-ending moment, it is far from a smooth move as far as the disciples are concerned.
Of course, in Mark's Gospel things might not be as they appear. For Mark, success of this kind is fraught with the danger of mistaking the surface appearance for the deeper reality. Things come into focus in three places in Mark's story: at the baptism of Jesus; during the transfiguration; and at the foot of the cross. We do not fully understand who the Son of God is until we can look upon the cross and join with the centurion in saying that this "was truly the Son of God" (Mark 15:39).
Of course, we look to other places in our search for Jesus. Despite Mark's testimony, the Jesus seminar searches for him in linguistic patterns of divergence and convergence. Others prowl the library for evidence that one can find in him the "teacher of wisdom tradition." Some claim that they have found Jesus to be the master therapist. All of these may have found some truth about him. Yet, for Mark, it is at the foot of the cross that we can make the most thorough theological statement about him.
Some scholars have described this vignette as Mark offering a summary of the typical day in the life of Jesus. However, the attempt to offer such objective accounts seems to be something beyond the range of the gospel writers. They can paint a picture, not offer us a photograph to view the life of Jesus. Nevertheless, it seems that they do offer us some hints at what a typical day in the life of the Christian community is like -- healings happen, folks gather, service is done, demons are silenced, and Jesus remains elusive beyond all our theological attempts to capture him. He remains the master beyond our attempts to manage him to suit our needs and aims. "When they found him, they said to him, 'Everyone is searching for you.' " Of course, when we find him it is all too easy to turn him into a therapy, a philosophy, or something far more useful to us than the cross. The conviction that Jesus is the Son of God in Mark's Gospel comes first from heaven and then mysteriously from a cloud at the transfiguration. The only time a human voice gives testimony to the dimensions of Jesus' relationship to God is at the cross -- when a centurion gazing at the crucified Christ "gets it." Even gentiles and a representative of the empire can get it when they know where to focus.
Application
When Paul writes, "If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel" ... I become a bit nervous. I chaff at the notions of obligation and woe. They are not the thoughts that I like to bring to the preaching process. This seems a bit obsessive. On the other hand, I do, on occasion, fall into patterns in which I wind up proclaiming something that is other than gospel. Does this "other" bring woe? Paul's scruples cause me to wonder about the times I have joined in the cultural celebration of marriage to the detriment of the gospel. In reading 1 Corinthians 13, I wonder if I have put too much emphasis on celebrating the wonderful, delightful, near nauseating love of the young couple? It is God's love that never ends; even when their love grows a bit fragile and frail. Woe to me.
Woe to me if I reduce the gospel to a self-help plan on how to live. No doubt I can meet the expectations of many and gain some social capital with those I serve by offering sermons on a typical day in Jesus' life that will help them get through their day. Something will emerge that will no doubt improve lives and may even resemble the gospel. Yet, I ponder. Is the gospel not only about how to live but also how to die? Do I reflect in my preaching and teaching that I need to give resentments, rage, and hostility something that looks like Christian burial?
In turning away from parts of scripture that I may find difficult, do I fail to proclaim the gospel? In dodging the Second Coming, in sticking to the lectionary and in avoiding the discipline of the lectionary; in seeking to be uplifting and in being down instead of looking up -- have I failed to meet my obligation to preach the gospel?
Paul's words are haunting but they can be helpful. It is good to know that even in its early stage the church had enough strength to admit that it was struggling with the temptation to substitute something else for the gospel.
An Alternative Application
Mark 1:29-39. There is a red light on my panel. It comes on as Peter's mother-in-law rises from her fever to immediately serve them. I find myself in something more than a panic of political correctness. Do I hurry on by this part of the story as fast as I can? Do I resort to rational enlightened explanations and detailed cultural analysis? Neither seems promising because both alternatives invite me to crawl into my head and avoid what might be pulling at my heart. How have I related to the many people that do serve me? Have I been a good defender of the rights and obligations that I owe to support staff? Peter's mother-in-law makes me more than a bit uncomfortable. I look to staff for emotional support and sometimes treat people who do support me emotionally as staff -- assuming too much, caring too little. I suspect that my prayer life, while embracing the concerns of the world, has all too often been unaffected by the needs of those who clean my office, pickup my garbage, proofread my work, and in general make it possible for me to function in a somewhat reasonable, faithful way.
I suspect that my dis-ease with Peter's mother-in-law is less a matter of high theological merit than the fact that I must face some serious sin in my life. I marginalize the people I distance from myself in ways that affront the rule and reign of God. I recall that Mahatma Gandhi was able to make some of his associates uncomfortable by serving them much as Peter's mother-in-law did. Hats off to her! The gospel is not all about maintaining my comfort zone.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 147:1-11, 20c
Sometimes life gets to be simply too much. Virtually anyone can nod his or her head in weary agreement to this assertion. People work many more hours and handle more responsibilities than they did only a few years ago. Mention a forty-hour work week to most people, and a bemused smile comes back at you. Irony, it seems, isn't dead after all. Add to this the towering stack of personal and family obligations, community responsibilities, and financial commitments É and it can cause someone to collapse under the collective weight of it all.
Clergy and health care professionals see this often in relatives who must care for family members in long-term illnesses. They see it, too, in single parenting situations where the demands of children and career stretch and pull a person to the tearing point. In fact, stress is almost a pandemic. It isn't that love goes away. It's simply that the burden can sometimes be more than even the strongest person can handle.
That's when it's good to collapse into a pew, and give it all to God.
"How good it is to sing praises to our God!" (v. 1). How wonderful it is to release our cares and burdens in an avalanche of praise to one who can shoulder the things we cannot manage by ourselves. This God can bind up a broken heart (v. 3). This God can heal my wounds and lift me up when I've been beaten down by life's demands (v. 6). In fact, this God can do it all. From numbering the stars (v. 4), to casting down the wicked (v. 6b); from designing clouds, to feeding the livestock, this God has it together.
No matter how stressed or how tense we get. No matter how tightly wound our lives cause us to feel, there is one who is greater than it all. There is one who can take the burden and lighten the load.
Certainly the writer of this psalm didn't envision the chaos that makes up twenty-first-century life in America. But a broken-hearted and wounded people were something that the writer probably did know firsthand. The one who crafted this psalm probably didn't have to cope with many of the complexities and stresses that assail people today, but a people who were stretched to the breaking point, the psalmist likely did understand from personal experience.
Yet in the end, then and now, it's still God who is in charge. Whether you are downtrodden by invaders and held in exile, or imprisoned in stress-laden work that can, in fact, kill you, God is still God. Creator, Covenant Partner, Healer, Liberator ... God.
How good it is indeed to give praise to God!
Getting clarity even on the basics of vision is more complex than we think. It always seems like a trade off. One lens brings something into focus leaving other things in a slight blur. Another corrects for astigmatism while not doing much to bring into focus the fine print. Some lenses of study bring into sharp relief the seamier aspects of a congregation's history while leaving the strengths and potential a smudged blur. My glasses, now up to trifocals, are a miracle of twisted and molded plastic covering a multitude of eye maladies. I say, "Hats off," to the men and women in the lab who will bravely put all this together.
"A or B," which is clearer? When it comes to a particular congregation the answer will depend on the day you ask me. The world is going to hell in a handbasket, or we live on the cusp of some of the greatest potential in human history: depends on which newspapers I read and on what day I read them. I am God's gift to the world -- a long-suffering saint ... or I am a pimple on the face of progress, which is better, "A or B"? Of course, the truth is that the best results will come from some combination of the two. However my ocular inquisitor does not offer me that choice. In the end, one lens will have to do the job to bring the near, the far, and in-between into focus.
The lectionary texts offered to us for this Sunday provide lenses that function somewhat as trifocals, attempting to bring into focus human experience and divine reality. The Isaiah text asks us to lift up our eyes on high and see. It seems that the usual point of focus may be missing the mark. In the letter to the Corinthians, Paul tries on his own trifocals. He attempts to bring focus to his ministry by directing his gaze to the life and circumstance of those who are under the law, those outside the law, and the weak. In Mark's lesson, after meeting with initial success ministering at Simon's house, things fall out of focus because Jesus is nowhere to be found.
Like my trifocals it sometimes takes three different focal points in order to see the big picture.
Isaiah 40:21-31
The context of the Isaiah passage is the return from exile. Yet there are two focal points to be observed. It is "return" and "not return" at the same time. Of course, there is the physical reality that there is a homecoming to the promised land from the place of exile. Yet, it is "not return" as well. Can anything ever be the same again? There are new stories to tell of courage in the face of temptations to surrender your distinctiveness to the surrounding culture. There are stories to tell of families shamed by the surrender of some of their members to the surrounding culture. Getting these stories into focus will lead to the consolidation of most of what we know as the Bible. The air will be filled with past glories and future uncertainties.
In the midst of this time, the words of the prophet calls the Hebrews to look up and consider the larger picture of God's power and purpose. "Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable." The prophet invites the reader to consider that something else might be up here; a return to something that will never be the same anyway. Rather than give this possibility the evil eye, give it a second look.
A recent trip to the newly opened War Museum in Ottawa, Canada, gave me a second look that brought things into focus. The museum looks like the prow of a ship that has somehow managed to wedge its way into downtown Ottawa. Then again, look long enough and it begins to look something like a jet airplane that has landed on the downtown. From the another angle, it appears to be a tank that is rolling through the streets of Canada's capital. Looking from above it appears to be a trench that some kind of giant earthmover has left in its wake. That is precisely the effect that the architect wanted to convey. The interior of the building, without straight lines, does a good job of conveying the chaos of war. I do not recall ever being lost in a museum for so long. The floor pattern keeps you alert, defies easy navigation, and robs you of an easy stroll.
The War Museum has its share of triumphant boasting. That Canadians were able to cart home Hitler's limousine is a particular point of honor.
Yet, as one goes about the various displays, you find a sense of tranquility replacing the awareness of the futility of war. What goes on here? I found myself in a conversation with the vice-president of the museum who explained the feelings that were overcoming me. He said that the museum was designed around the theme of regeneration. He could have said resurrection. The prow of the ship points to the Peace Tower on Parliament Hill. The roof is covered in green grass that shows evidence of reclaiming what looks like a WWI trench. In one area, that to date only a few visitors find, he showed me that on November 11 of each year the sunlight follows a marble line in the floor and at 11 a.m. hits the gravestone that had once covered the grave of Canada's unknown soldier (before he was interred in the national cenotaph). Of course, the date and time marks the end of the First World War.
In short, peace breaks out. Human hopes for rescue from the fierceness of life or our longing for return to something that looks like the "good old days" will not be satisfied. Neither complete return nor total rescue is in the cards; but something on the order of resurrection is possible. "Have you not heard?" Here is the essence of the biblical pageant that peaks in the good news of Easter morning. Those who wait upon or hope in the Lord shall find new things coming into focus for they will see with an "eagle eye."
"Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable." God knows the story of those who will claim too much because they successively resisted the overtures of the surrounding culture. God knows the narrative of those who have hoped too little and surrendered too much. God will give power to the faint and strengthen the powerless. God is about something much more than return, or even rescue. Keep this in focus and much will become come clear: enough to continue the faith journey despite our weariness and weakness.
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Obviously, Paul is struggling here with his authority and standing. It seems that, not unlike Jesus, Paul found that in his ministry he had to endure the attack of those who felt that his message was more threatening than liberating. The easiest way to undercut a preacher was, and is, to hack away at their credentials. His Judaism, his Christian qualifications, his learning, authenticity, and intensity were all maligned.
The gospel writers remembered that Jesus authoritatively cast out demons. People of authority, like chief priests and the scribes, questioned the authority of Jesus and tried to trick him with a question about the authority of John the Baptist.
Untimely born, yet experiencing the fullness of time; not prone, though capable of speaking in tongues; citizen of Rome, yet looking to heaven; taking no back seat to any Jew, yet able to live beyond the law -- Paul lived with a double focus in his ministry. What does seem beyond him is looking at things through anything less than two foci. His "this on the one hand ... but that on the other," approach would seem less than authoritative until we see that a third focal point is tri-angled into the picture in a way that gives authority to Paul's words and power to his life. "For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God." Without the cross, the central experience of Paul's life cannot come into focus.
In this lectionary passage Paul takes up the cross of focusing on his life and the lives of others simultaneously in a way that reflects the meaning of Jesus' cross. He is a man who is not about the authoritative power to classify people, as worthy and unworthy, clean and unclean, free or slave, Jew or Gentile. Of course, our world wreaks of the authority to classify people by putting them in their assigned place in the various scheme of things. The sketch "Two Wild and Crazy Guys" performed by Steve Martin and Dan Akroyd on Saturday Night Live captured the pathetic attempt of two eastern European immigrants to slot themselves into the swingy lifestyle of the modern American empire. Teen magazines portray the clean and unclean body types of thinness and obesity. The historical statistician reminds us that we have a noticeable proclivity for voting for the tallest presidential candidate. We all carry around a hefty bag of slots in which to put people. Maybe there is neither Jew nor Gentile, but in some churches there is a premium on the right theological accent in their preacher, cultivated at the right seminary. Some can remember when some American churches even put a premium on the right Scottish burr on Sunday morning. Some sociologists suggest that we have something like upward of thirty seconds or so before we are slotted in place by our first impression.
In his ministry, Paul poses a new basis of authoritative power. If Paul casts out any demons it will not be because of his capacity to put people in their place, but by taking up the cross of putting himself in their place. "I have become all things to all people that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings."
I gravitate not necessarily to the teacher that knows all but to the teacher who knows me; who is willing to enter into and appreciate and learn from my world. I appreciate the physician who knows not only the latest medical protocols but who knows what it is to be sick. In a world of "Donald Trump and Martha Stewart wannabes," I relish people who have the common touch over and above the Midas touch. Paul demonstrates in this section of 1 Corinthians, that though he is free of legalism, though he is a man of considerable strength and theological acuity, he can enter into another's world in redemptive ways: the obsessive, the unrelentingly theologically obtuse, and the unquestionably weak.
Paul has found himself sharing in the blessings of this gospel by taking up this cross of Jesus. In some sense clarity has come through being "cross eyed."
Mark 1:29-39
The gospel writer indicates that Jesus and the disciples are headed toward serious success. With the curing of many diseases, the silencing of demons, the healing of Simon's mother-in-law, the early Christian movement is about to become a player in the affairs of Jesus' world. At least that is how it would appear. Yet, at the height of their early success Jesus withdraws, leaving Simon searching for him and the rest wondering if their hunt for the Messiah has only just begun. Just when things are falling into place, Jesus takes off to be alone and pray. While this may not be a career-ending moment, it is far from a smooth move as far as the disciples are concerned.
Of course, in Mark's Gospel things might not be as they appear. For Mark, success of this kind is fraught with the danger of mistaking the surface appearance for the deeper reality. Things come into focus in three places in Mark's story: at the baptism of Jesus; during the transfiguration; and at the foot of the cross. We do not fully understand who the Son of God is until we can look upon the cross and join with the centurion in saying that this "was truly the Son of God" (Mark 15:39).
Of course, we look to other places in our search for Jesus. Despite Mark's testimony, the Jesus seminar searches for him in linguistic patterns of divergence and convergence. Others prowl the library for evidence that one can find in him the "teacher of wisdom tradition." Some claim that they have found Jesus to be the master therapist. All of these may have found some truth about him. Yet, for Mark, it is at the foot of the cross that we can make the most thorough theological statement about him.
Some scholars have described this vignette as Mark offering a summary of the typical day in the life of Jesus. However, the attempt to offer such objective accounts seems to be something beyond the range of the gospel writers. They can paint a picture, not offer us a photograph to view the life of Jesus. Nevertheless, it seems that they do offer us some hints at what a typical day in the life of the Christian community is like -- healings happen, folks gather, service is done, demons are silenced, and Jesus remains elusive beyond all our theological attempts to capture him. He remains the master beyond our attempts to manage him to suit our needs and aims. "When they found him, they said to him, 'Everyone is searching for you.' " Of course, when we find him it is all too easy to turn him into a therapy, a philosophy, or something far more useful to us than the cross. The conviction that Jesus is the Son of God in Mark's Gospel comes first from heaven and then mysteriously from a cloud at the transfiguration. The only time a human voice gives testimony to the dimensions of Jesus' relationship to God is at the cross -- when a centurion gazing at the crucified Christ "gets it." Even gentiles and a representative of the empire can get it when they know where to focus.
Application
When Paul writes, "If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel" ... I become a bit nervous. I chaff at the notions of obligation and woe. They are not the thoughts that I like to bring to the preaching process. This seems a bit obsessive. On the other hand, I do, on occasion, fall into patterns in which I wind up proclaiming something that is other than gospel. Does this "other" bring woe? Paul's scruples cause me to wonder about the times I have joined in the cultural celebration of marriage to the detriment of the gospel. In reading 1 Corinthians 13, I wonder if I have put too much emphasis on celebrating the wonderful, delightful, near nauseating love of the young couple? It is God's love that never ends; even when their love grows a bit fragile and frail. Woe to me.
Woe to me if I reduce the gospel to a self-help plan on how to live. No doubt I can meet the expectations of many and gain some social capital with those I serve by offering sermons on a typical day in Jesus' life that will help them get through their day. Something will emerge that will no doubt improve lives and may even resemble the gospel. Yet, I ponder. Is the gospel not only about how to live but also how to die? Do I reflect in my preaching and teaching that I need to give resentments, rage, and hostility something that looks like Christian burial?
In turning away from parts of scripture that I may find difficult, do I fail to proclaim the gospel? In dodging the Second Coming, in sticking to the lectionary and in avoiding the discipline of the lectionary; in seeking to be uplifting and in being down instead of looking up -- have I failed to meet my obligation to preach the gospel?
Paul's words are haunting but they can be helpful. It is good to know that even in its early stage the church had enough strength to admit that it was struggling with the temptation to substitute something else for the gospel.
An Alternative Application
Mark 1:29-39. There is a red light on my panel. It comes on as Peter's mother-in-law rises from her fever to immediately serve them. I find myself in something more than a panic of political correctness. Do I hurry on by this part of the story as fast as I can? Do I resort to rational enlightened explanations and detailed cultural analysis? Neither seems promising because both alternatives invite me to crawl into my head and avoid what might be pulling at my heart. How have I related to the many people that do serve me? Have I been a good defender of the rights and obligations that I owe to support staff? Peter's mother-in-law makes me more than a bit uncomfortable. I look to staff for emotional support and sometimes treat people who do support me emotionally as staff -- assuming too much, caring too little. I suspect that my prayer life, while embracing the concerns of the world, has all too often been unaffected by the needs of those who clean my office, pickup my garbage, proofread my work, and in general make it possible for me to function in a somewhat reasonable, faithful way.
I suspect that my dis-ease with Peter's mother-in-law is less a matter of high theological merit than the fact that I must face some serious sin in my life. I marginalize the people I distance from myself in ways that affront the rule and reign of God. I recall that Mahatma Gandhi was able to make some of his associates uncomfortable by serving them much as Peter's mother-in-law did. Hats off to her! The gospel is not all about maintaining my comfort zone.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 147:1-11, 20c
Sometimes life gets to be simply too much. Virtually anyone can nod his or her head in weary agreement to this assertion. People work many more hours and handle more responsibilities than they did only a few years ago. Mention a forty-hour work week to most people, and a bemused smile comes back at you. Irony, it seems, isn't dead after all. Add to this the towering stack of personal and family obligations, community responsibilities, and financial commitments É and it can cause someone to collapse under the collective weight of it all.
Clergy and health care professionals see this often in relatives who must care for family members in long-term illnesses. They see it, too, in single parenting situations where the demands of children and career stretch and pull a person to the tearing point. In fact, stress is almost a pandemic. It isn't that love goes away. It's simply that the burden can sometimes be more than even the strongest person can handle.
That's when it's good to collapse into a pew, and give it all to God.
"How good it is to sing praises to our God!" (v. 1). How wonderful it is to release our cares and burdens in an avalanche of praise to one who can shoulder the things we cannot manage by ourselves. This God can bind up a broken heart (v. 3). This God can heal my wounds and lift me up when I've been beaten down by life's demands (v. 6). In fact, this God can do it all. From numbering the stars (v. 4), to casting down the wicked (v. 6b); from designing clouds, to feeding the livestock, this God has it together.
No matter how stressed or how tense we get. No matter how tightly wound our lives cause us to feel, there is one who is greater than it all. There is one who can take the burden and lighten the load.
Certainly the writer of this psalm didn't envision the chaos that makes up twenty-first-century life in America. But a broken-hearted and wounded people were something that the writer probably did know firsthand. The one who crafted this psalm probably didn't have to cope with many of the complexities and stresses that assail people today, but a people who were stretched to the breaking point, the psalmist likely did understand from personal experience.
Yet in the end, then and now, it's still God who is in charge. Whether you are downtrodden by invaders and held in exile, or imprisoned in stress-laden work that can, in fact, kill you, God is still God. Creator, Covenant Partner, Healer, Liberator ... God.
How good it is indeed to give praise to God!
