Epiphany 8 | Ordinary Time 8
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VIII, Cycle B
Revised Common
Hosea 2:14-20
2 Corinthians 3:1-6
Mark 2:13-22
Roman Catholic
Hosea 2:16-17, 21-22
2 Corinthians 3:1-6
Mark 2:18-22
Episcopal
Hosea 2:14-23
2 Corinthians 3:(4-11) 17--4:2
Mark 2:18-22
Theme For The Day
Jesus calls for an end to the prejudicial assumption that there are some people who cannot change.
Old Testament Lesson
Hosea 2:14-20
God's Fidelity
"I will take you for my wife forever," says the Lord to Israel -- in the tender words of the prophet Hosea, who pictures the relationship between God and the people as that between an eternally faithful husband and an errant wife. "I shall take you for my wife in faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord" (v. 20).
New Testament Lesson
2 Corinthians 3:1-6
Living Letters Of Recommendation
Credentials. We all need them -- especially in this security-conscious world. Who could even imagine trying to get on a commercial airplane these days without a photo ID? Credentials -- "letters of recommendation" -- were part of Paul's world as well. And what are the letters of recommendation Paul values most intensely? Why, they are the people of his churches themselves. In traveling from congregation to congregation, he needs nothing more than their good will: "You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, to be known and read by all ..." (v. 2). Paul's competence to carry on his apostolic mission comes not from any diploma or degree: his competence is "from God" (v. 5).
The Gospel
Mark 2:13-22
New Wineskins
Today's Gospel Lesson is two distinct pericopes. The first one describes Jesus' calling of Levi, the tax collector. As Mark tells it, Levi gets up and follows just as unhesitatingly as do the other disciples (see Mark 1:14-20, Third Sunday After The Epiphany, p. 46); yet there is a certain fallout to his joining "Team Jesus." "Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?" ask some of the Pharisees. Jesus replies, saying, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners" (v. 17). In the second pericope, some people come up to Jesus and ask why he and his disciples do not fast, as do the Pharisees and the followers of John the Baptist. Jesus responds with three mini-parables: "The wedding guests cannot fast while the bridegroom is with them" (v. 20); "No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old cloak" (v. 21); "And no one puts new wine into old wineskins" (v. 22).
Preaching Possibilities
We have examined, in recent weeks, several stories from the Gospel of Mark about healings Jesus performed. In today's lesson, however, we see him heal an ailment that has no physical manifestations, no medical symptoms. The malady he addresses is the social isolation of one category of people by the judgment of another: in short, prejudice.
Jesus calls Levi, a tax collector, as one of his disciples. Levi is nothing like any tax collector any of us have ever experienced. He's more like a corrupt customs agent. The system works like this. Levi sits in his booth, observing the trade that goes back and forth along the road. Each item, Levi must examine. The government is owed a certain percentage on all imports, but it's up to Levi to assess the value of each item. The higher the assessment, the easier it is for him to cook the books -- which he frequently does, for that's where his profit comes from. Many's the merchant who has walked away from Levi's booth feeling certain he's been cheated. Even more than that, Levi deals with the coins and the merchandise of many nations and peoples. Roman coins pass through his hands, bearing the idolatrous image of the emperor. So do pigs, which Levi has to hold up, to estimate their weight. It's no wonder a faithful and observant Jew would take offense at one such as him.
We have no idea what goes through Levi's mind when Jesus issues his call. In his typical terse fashion, Mark simply tells us that Levi leaves his customs booth, walks away, and never looks back.
The scene shifts to that same evening. Jesus is reclining at dinner in the house of Levi. Lots of others are there, too -- for Levi is a man of considerable means, one who can afford to throw an opulent banquet in the Greek style, with a wise teacher as guest of honor and lots of others listening in. Part of the crowd present that night are Pharisees -- people who, due to religious scruples, would not ordinarily be found in Levi's house. They're probably there because Jesus is the guest.
At the heart of the Pharisaical lifestyle is the community of shared meals. Many of the regulations Pharisees hold dear have to do with eating: how you cleanse your cup a certain way, how you reach into a bowl, how the food itself is prepared. A meal with a Pharisee is a beautiful and spiritual occasion, a time-honored ritual in which every action has its meaning. It's a far cry from the dinner Jesus and the disciples enjoy that night. Sure, there are Pharisees in attendance -- but this is the house of Levi, after all. The tax collector's in charge. The wine pours freely, the laughter is raucous, the jokes are -- as usual -- just a bit off-color. Many of the other guests have, shall we say, "interesting" pasts. They're hard-living misfits like Levi himself. If Jesus is a holy man, he's sure stepped off holy ground that night (or so the Pharisees think, and eventually tell him so).
"Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick," Jesus responds. "I have come to call not the righteous but sinners." In point of fact, though, Levi does need a physician. Very likely he's strong in body and mind -- he'd have to have a certain toughness, to make his assessments stick. Yet maybe there's a part of Levi -- a secret part, locked up deep within him -- that weeps bitterly as he remembers the love he's lost, that sadly mourns the respect of others he's been obliged to cast aside. God's forgiveness is a gift, Jesus is saying: an utterly free gift, with no strings attached. To receive it, all you need to do is open your hands. If that love flows into your life truly and completely, runs over your soiled heart like a cleansing waterfall, you'll never be the same again. You don't need to prove yourself first; you just need to hunger for it.
You can't sew a patch of new, unshrunk cloth onto an old garment, as everybody knows; the seam will pull right out, as the new cloth shrinks. Nor can you pour new wine into an old wineskin; the chemical reaction of the fermenting wine will burst it apart. "Behold," says the Lord (in Isaiah's words), "I am doing a new thing!" "Behold," says Jesus to the Pharisees, "I am doing a new thing as well, bringing God's love to tax collectors and sinners!"
Prayer For The Day
We give you thanks and praise, O God, that you did not give up on us. Give us the honesty, the courage and the grace not to give up on others. Amen.
To Illustrate
Some years ago, there was a television movie, Separate But Equal. It told the story of the U.S. Supreme Court's decision to desegregate the public schools. Anyone who lived through those days in American history knows the court's decision did not come easily. Centuries of racism exerted their accumulated weight, in opposition to change. A majority of Supreme Court justices clearly and honestly believed segregation was wrong. Yet they feared what would happen if they overturned the legal principle of "separate but equal," on which segregation was based. Among other things, the movie tells the story of Chief Justice Earl Warren: how he made up his mind how he was going to vote.
For months, the court has been struggling with the issue. The chief justice is exhausted. He decides to get out of Washington for a weekend. He takes along his African-American aide, Mr. Patterson, to drive his car and provide some company.
The two of them set off on a tour of Civil War battlefields. They stop for the evening at a beautiful country inn. The camera shows Chief Justice Warren eating a fine meal in the restaurant, while reading Carl Sandburg's biography of Abraham Lincoln. The next morning, he emerges from the inn, only to find Mr. Patterson sleeping in the backseat of the car. "Mr. Patterson," he asks him, "why are you sleeping in there?"
His assistant replies, "I couldn't find a place. Sir, there's no place within twenty miles of here where I ..." There's no need for Mr. Patterson to even finish his sentence. The chief justice silences him with a gesture. He climbs back into the car, Mr. Patterson straightens his tie, and the two of them drive off, returning to Washington.
The next scene shows Chief Justice Warren sitting with one of the other justices. He's saying, "The court must vote to desegregate. It is a moral issue, one that goes deep into the soul of our nation." Sometimes it takes a very specific experience to run a great, looming, abstract idea to ground -- to make it truly real. Sometimes it takes the sight of a good man waking rumpled and unshaven from a night spent sleeping in a car. Sometimes it takes a dinner with a repentant tax collector.
***
There's an old rabbinic legend about the prophet Elijah. (Elijah, of course, did not die as other people did, but ascended to heaven in a whirlwind -- see 2 Kings 2:11 -- and the rabbis tell how he still walks the earth from time to time, always turning up in unexpected places.) One day, Elijah's walking through a town, when he hears the sounds of a party coming from a large and beautiful house. The prophet twirls himself around, and instantly he's clothed in the rags of a beggar. He knocks on the door.
The host, in his elegant garments, takes one look at the so-called beggar on his doorstep, clad in his miserable rags, and slams the door in his face.
Elijah twirls around a second time. Instantly, he's clothed in the fine garments of a gentleman. He knocks on the door again, and this time the host takes one look at his splendid attire, and says, "Come right in!"
Elijah makes a beeline for the buffet table. He begins to stuff food into his pockets. The other guests all step back, amazed at this rare sight. Then Elijah pushes even more food into his tunic, and pours wine over his shoulders and down the front of his fine suit of clothes. It's not long at all before the host runs over to him, and demands to know what he's up to.
"I came to your door dressed in rags," explains Elijah, "and you did not invite me in. Then I came to your door dressed in fine garments -- the very same person -- and you welcomed me to your feast. I can only conclude that it was not me you invited, but my clothing. That is why I feed my clothing with your food and drink."
The story concludes with the party guests feeling ashamed and looking down at the ground. When they look up again, Elijah is gone.
***
Killing wolves has to do with murder. Historically, the most visible motive, and the one that best explains the excess of killing, is a type of fear: theriophobia. Fear of the beast. Fear of the beast as an irrational, violent, insatiable creature. Fear of the projected beast in oneself.... At the heart of theriophobia is the fear of one's own nature. In its headiest manifestations, theriophobia is projected onto a single animal, the animal becomes a scapegoat, and it is annihilated.
-- Barry Lopez, Of Wolves and Men (New York: Scribners, 1978), p. 24
***
All of us are somewhere on a journey to God ... the gap between least and most advanced is infinitely smaller than the gap between the most advanced and God himself.
-- John Ortberg
Hosea 2:14-20
2 Corinthians 3:1-6
Mark 2:13-22
Roman Catholic
Hosea 2:16-17, 21-22
2 Corinthians 3:1-6
Mark 2:18-22
Episcopal
Hosea 2:14-23
2 Corinthians 3:(4-11) 17--4:2
Mark 2:18-22
Theme For The Day
Jesus calls for an end to the prejudicial assumption that there are some people who cannot change.
Old Testament Lesson
Hosea 2:14-20
God's Fidelity
"I will take you for my wife forever," says the Lord to Israel -- in the tender words of the prophet Hosea, who pictures the relationship between God and the people as that between an eternally faithful husband and an errant wife. "I shall take you for my wife in faithfulness, and you shall know the Lord" (v. 20).
New Testament Lesson
2 Corinthians 3:1-6
Living Letters Of Recommendation
Credentials. We all need them -- especially in this security-conscious world. Who could even imagine trying to get on a commercial airplane these days without a photo ID? Credentials -- "letters of recommendation" -- were part of Paul's world as well. And what are the letters of recommendation Paul values most intensely? Why, they are the people of his churches themselves. In traveling from congregation to congregation, he needs nothing more than their good will: "You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, to be known and read by all ..." (v. 2). Paul's competence to carry on his apostolic mission comes not from any diploma or degree: his competence is "from God" (v. 5).
The Gospel
Mark 2:13-22
New Wineskins
Today's Gospel Lesson is two distinct pericopes. The first one describes Jesus' calling of Levi, the tax collector. As Mark tells it, Levi gets up and follows just as unhesitatingly as do the other disciples (see Mark 1:14-20, Third Sunday After The Epiphany, p. 46); yet there is a certain fallout to his joining "Team Jesus." "Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?" ask some of the Pharisees. Jesus replies, saying, "Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick; I have come to call not the righteous but sinners" (v. 17). In the second pericope, some people come up to Jesus and ask why he and his disciples do not fast, as do the Pharisees and the followers of John the Baptist. Jesus responds with three mini-parables: "The wedding guests cannot fast while the bridegroom is with them" (v. 20); "No one sews a piece of unshrunk cloth on an old cloak" (v. 21); "And no one puts new wine into old wineskins" (v. 22).
Preaching Possibilities
We have examined, in recent weeks, several stories from the Gospel of Mark about healings Jesus performed. In today's lesson, however, we see him heal an ailment that has no physical manifestations, no medical symptoms. The malady he addresses is the social isolation of one category of people by the judgment of another: in short, prejudice.
Jesus calls Levi, a tax collector, as one of his disciples. Levi is nothing like any tax collector any of us have ever experienced. He's more like a corrupt customs agent. The system works like this. Levi sits in his booth, observing the trade that goes back and forth along the road. Each item, Levi must examine. The government is owed a certain percentage on all imports, but it's up to Levi to assess the value of each item. The higher the assessment, the easier it is for him to cook the books -- which he frequently does, for that's where his profit comes from. Many's the merchant who has walked away from Levi's booth feeling certain he's been cheated. Even more than that, Levi deals with the coins and the merchandise of many nations and peoples. Roman coins pass through his hands, bearing the idolatrous image of the emperor. So do pigs, which Levi has to hold up, to estimate their weight. It's no wonder a faithful and observant Jew would take offense at one such as him.
We have no idea what goes through Levi's mind when Jesus issues his call. In his typical terse fashion, Mark simply tells us that Levi leaves his customs booth, walks away, and never looks back.
The scene shifts to that same evening. Jesus is reclining at dinner in the house of Levi. Lots of others are there, too -- for Levi is a man of considerable means, one who can afford to throw an opulent banquet in the Greek style, with a wise teacher as guest of honor and lots of others listening in. Part of the crowd present that night are Pharisees -- people who, due to religious scruples, would not ordinarily be found in Levi's house. They're probably there because Jesus is the guest.
At the heart of the Pharisaical lifestyle is the community of shared meals. Many of the regulations Pharisees hold dear have to do with eating: how you cleanse your cup a certain way, how you reach into a bowl, how the food itself is prepared. A meal with a Pharisee is a beautiful and spiritual occasion, a time-honored ritual in which every action has its meaning. It's a far cry from the dinner Jesus and the disciples enjoy that night. Sure, there are Pharisees in attendance -- but this is the house of Levi, after all. The tax collector's in charge. The wine pours freely, the laughter is raucous, the jokes are -- as usual -- just a bit off-color. Many of the other guests have, shall we say, "interesting" pasts. They're hard-living misfits like Levi himself. If Jesus is a holy man, he's sure stepped off holy ground that night (or so the Pharisees think, and eventually tell him so).
"Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick," Jesus responds. "I have come to call not the righteous but sinners." In point of fact, though, Levi does need a physician. Very likely he's strong in body and mind -- he'd have to have a certain toughness, to make his assessments stick. Yet maybe there's a part of Levi -- a secret part, locked up deep within him -- that weeps bitterly as he remembers the love he's lost, that sadly mourns the respect of others he's been obliged to cast aside. God's forgiveness is a gift, Jesus is saying: an utterly free gift, with no strings attached. To receive it, all you need to do is open your hands. If that love flows into your life truly and completely, runs over your soiled heart like a cleansing waterfall, you'll never be the same again. You don't need to prove yourself first; you just need to hunger for it.
You can't sew a patch of new, unshrunk cloth onto an old garment, as everybody knows; the seam will pull right out, as the new cloth shrinks. Nor can you pour new wine into an old wineskin; the chemical reaction of the fermenting wine will burst it apart. "Behold," says the Lord (in Isaiah's words), "I am doing a new thing!" "Behold," says Jesus to the Pharisees, "I am doing a new thing as well, bringing God's love to tax collectors and sinners!"
Prayer For The Day
We give you thanks and praise, O God, that you did not give up on us. Give us the honesty, the courage and the grace not to give up on others. Amen.
To Illustrate
Some years ago, there was a television movie, Separate But Equal. It told the story of the U.S. Supreme Court's decision to desegregate the public schools. Anyone who lived through those days in American history knows the court's decision did not come easily. Centuries of racism exerted their accumulated weight, in opposition to change. A majority of Supreme Court justices clearly and honestly believed segregation was wrong. Yet they feared what would happen if they overturned the legal principle of "separate but equal," on which segregation was based. Among other things, the movie tells the story of Chief Justice Earl Warren: how he made up his mind how he was going to vote.
For months, the court has been struggling with the issue. The chief justice is exhausted. He decides to get out of Washington for a weekend. He takes along his African-American aide, Mr. Patterson, to drive his car and provide some company.
The two of them set off on a tour of Civil War battlefields. They stop for the evening at a beautiful country inn. The camera shows Chief Justice Warren eating a fine meal in the restaurant, while reading Carl Sandburg's biography of Abraham Lincoln. The next morning, he emerges from the inn, only to find Mr. Patterson sleeping in the backseat of the car. "Mr. Patterson," he asks him, "why are you sleeping in there?"
His assistant replies, "I couldn't find a place. Sir, there's no place within twenty miles of here where I ..." There's no need for Mr. Patterson to even finish his sentence. The chief justice silences him with a gesture. He climbs back into the car, Mr. Patterson straightens his tie, and the two of them drive off, returning to Washington.
The next scene shows Chief Justice Warren sitting with one of the other justices. He's saying, "The court must vote to desegregate. It is a moral issue, one that goes deep into the soul of our nation." Sometimes it takes a very specific experience to run a great, looming, abstract idea to ground -- to make it truly real. Sometimes it takes the sight of a good man waking rumpled and unshaven from a night spent sleeping in a car. Sometimes it takes a dinner with a repentant tax collector.
***
There's an old rabbinic legend about the prophet Elijah. (Elijah, of course, did not die as other people did, but ascended to heaven in a whirlwind -- see 2 Kings 2:11 -- and the rabbis tell how he still walks the earth from time to time, always turning up in unexpected places.) One day, Elijah's walking through a town, when he hears the sounds of a party coming from a large and beautiful house. The prophet twirls himself around, and instantly he's clothed in the rags of a beggar. He knocks on the door.
The host, in his elegant garments, takes one look at the so-called beggar on his doorstep, clad in his miserable rags, and slams the door in his face.
Elijah twirls around a second time. Instantly, he's clothed in the fine garments of a gentleman. He knocks on the door again, and this time the host takes one look at his splendid attire, and says, "Come right in!"
Elijah makes a beeline for the buffet table. He begins to stuff food into his pockets. The other guests all step back, amazed at this rare sight. Then Elijah pushes even more food into his tunic, and pours wine over his shoulders and down the front of his fine suit of clothes. It's not long at all before the host runs over to him, and demands to know what he's up to.
"I came to your door dressed in rags," explains Elijah, "and you did not invite me in. Then I came to your door dressed in fine garments -- the very same person -- and you welcomed me to your feast. I can only conclude that it was not me you invited, but my clothing. That is why I feed my clothing with your food and drink."
The story concludes with the party guests feeling ashamed and looking down at the ground. When they look up again, Elijah is gone.
***
Killing wolves has to do with murder. Historically, the most visible motive, and the one that best explains the excess of killing, is a type of fear: theriophobia. Fear of the beast. Fear of the beast as an irrational, violent, insatiable creature. Fear of the projected beast in oneself.... At the heart of theriophobia is the fear of one's own nature. In its headiest manifestations, theriophobia is projected onto a single animal, the animal becomes a scapegoat, and it is annihilated.
-- Barry Lopez, Of Wolves and Men (New York: Scribners, 1978), p. 24
***
All of us are somewhere on a journey to God ... the gap between least and most advanced is infinitely smaller than the gap between the most advanced and God himself.
-- John Ortberg
