Burning Coals

"When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, 'Bring some of the fish that you have just caught... Come and have breakfast.'"

- John 21:9-10, 12

When I was kid my family used to take trips to Northern Michigan every year. It was a welcomed change of pace, a time to connect with one another as a family, and some of my favorite memories from that time are sitting around a bonfire, sharing stories, smores, and looking up at the stars. There is just something basic and essential to the human experience in gathering around a fire. And it is that experience that captures my attention in this text.

In this story from John's Gospel, Jesus has been crucified, and has resurrected. At some point after the resurrection, the disciples choose to go out fishing. They go at night, working all through the night but they labor in vain. They don't catch a single fish. These skilled fishermen have run out of luck. Nothing works.
As the dawn breaks, the disciples notice a man standing on the shore who calls out to them, "Haven't you caught anything?"
One might think the disciples would respond sarcastically to this seeming taunt. But they simply say "No."
So Jesus tells them, throw your nets on the other side. When they do, their nets are so full that they can barely haul the fish in.
It begins to dawn on them who they're dealing with, so they make their way to shore.
When they land they find Jesus standing next to a charcoal fire, with fish and bread already cooking on it. So Jesus invites them to add what they've just caught and join him for breakfast.

So often in reading this scripture I've jumped directly into thoughts about resurrection, or the disciple's weird inability to catch any fish despite being fishermen by trade. But as I read this text again, I'm drawn to the charcoal fire, the burning coals and the invitation, "come and have breakfast."

More than anything I'm curious about the one detail present in this fire that makes it so special. In Greek, this fire is called ἀνθρακιά (anthrakia), which means "burning coals." It's a word used twice in the New Testament, both times in John's Gospel. It's different from any other fire, it specifically identifies a charcoal fire, made from wood. Here's what draws me in with this word:

The fire that Jesus creates for his disciples takes time to prepare.

The process of making charcoal out of wood is an ancient practice that dates back at least 30,000 years. It's a process that can take days but transforms the wood into nearly pure carbon. The result of this labor is a product that burns hotter, longer, more evenly, with less smoke, and fewer dangerous vapors than wood alone. In a sense, making a wood charcoal fire purifies the fire. But it takes time, skill and patience.

There can be moments in ministry where we might toil long through the night. Things we might otherwise assume we can do well produce no tangible results. But what if, even in those doubtful moments, even when we're looking at the end and are preparing to pack it in, Jesus has been working right along side us and we just haven't been able to perceive it yet?

To make this fire Jesus has to have been working at it for a while. Jesus has had to have worked through the night, keeping an eye on his disciples, laboring alongside them, anticipating where they'll be by morning. Jesus has been preparing for a feast. While the disciples believe they are stuck with nothing, in scarcity, Jesus plans for abundance.

I wonder if there is a lesson in patience here, in persistence, a call to wait for the dawn. Because even while we stumble along in the shadows of night, Jesus is anticipating a feast come dawn, and is actively making preparations for it.

As we enter into Lent, a season of preparation walking with Jesus toward the cross and in anticipation of resurrection at Easter, I will keep watch for the burning coals as I labor. I will trust that Jesus works alongside me, anticipating the conclusion to our shared labor and I will invite, just as I have been invited so many times before, to share in the bounty.

You see, the burning coals aren't just a minor detail, they show us Jesus' commitment to working with us, anticipating the fellowship to come, planning for a response of abundance.

Oak

A young couple shares their first meal in marriage and the crumbs of bread mingle with the blood red wine on a lacy white fabric, instilled with the memories of Saints long past.
A candle, unattended, burns long through its wax, forever leaving its own mark.
This once wild oak,
tamed by carpenters hands,
inscribed with an invitation to come and stay, taste and see, has been home not only to some of the greatest mysteries of grace,
but to Legos arranged with the imaginative energy of tiny hands,
tears rolled from weathered cheeks as a bell rings and the name on their heart echos through the rafters,
and small smears of oil transferred from glass,
to hand,
to head
and back again.
The ornamentation of tangled vines and ample ripe grapes is carefully tended,
watched whenever moved from back to front and down short steps.
Yet even when the plates are arranged,
the cloth ironed and cleaned,
the dressings all set,
it is the marks of feasts,
loves,
hands
and wine that stay,
calling through time sounding an invitation stronger than the words inscribed therein:
come and stay, taste and see.

War on Christmas

While they were there, the time came for Mary to have her baby. She gave birth to her firstborn child, a son, wrapped him snugly, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the guestroom. - Luke 2:6-7

I don't know if y'all feel it, but this year is just hitting hard.

What I'm really feeling right now the constant, unending, and brutal justification of violence in our country, and I have never felt further away from the Christmas story.

And then there was this:



If you didn't watch the video here's the pertinent quote:

"I just want to point out that there had been these protests in Times Square, right outside of our building here for the last week or so, since the non-indictment came down in the Ferguson situation. So, I mean, I certainly hope nothing is going to happen here in New York City today, and we've got the tree lighting ceremony."

 I hope nothing is going to happen... We've got the tree lighting ceremony

If there has ever been a war on Christmas, it has been the slow, purposeful stripping away of other's humanity.
The very reason we celebrate Christmas is because of the glory of the God-with-Us.
Emmanuel.
God made flesh.
We celebrate because in the midst of all of the chaos of the world, in the midst of our pain and suffering, God came bursting into life, crying, irritated, and in need of mother's milk.
Jesus being born into the world is about more than a birthday. It is the surest message from God that our lives matter. Our pain matters. Our flesh matters.
The central message of the Christmas story is that our humanity matters to God.

And yet, with another non-indictment in the killing of yet another black American, the response from major news sources, white Christians, and others has been the callous disregard for human life.

Remember an indictment just means that something will go to trial. So to not indict means that there is NO evidence to suggest any wrong doing whatsoever. Not even a question.

In the case of rioting, with shops being burnt, there were calls for the heads of those doing the rioting. There was condemnation of those practicing peaceful protests, but rarely was there anyone white or in the media looking to understand why. Why it is that people protest, why it is that some people riot. Because the conclusion that most white people and most people in the media came to was that

property ranks higher than black lives.

Gosh, I just hope black people don't protest the non-inictment of Eric Garner's killer in NYC. It would really be just terrible to ruin Christmas.

That mentality, the one that places things above people; the one that justifies the killing of one person because they supposedly sold individual cigarettes instead of being licensed to sell the whole pack; the one that says your pain is not worth my time. The one that says every time some one who looks like you dies, no matter if they weren't armed, no matter if they weren't actually a threat, no matter if they were in an accident and looking for help, no matter if they are an adult or a child, they deserved to die.

That is the war on Christmas.

Because it is antithetical to everything God set out to do.
And when I sit down with my family this year to celebrate the birth of Christ, I know this to be true more than ever: We need God. We need Christmas. We need a win.

Black lives matter to God. Eric Garner mattered to God. When people are upset by the lack of justice, or the lack of an admittance of wrong-doing in cases like Eric Garner, and our first response is to focus on how their pain inconveniences us. We walk away from Christ. We walk away from God. And I guarantee you, we do not get an invitation to the manger.

I am tired of the phony, pathetic excuses we make. I am tired of the mantra of the war on Christmas because I know 9 times out of 10 that war is a weak excuse to distract us from the real threats to Christmas.
I am tired of this sinfulness, and I know there are many people who have felt this for far longer than I have, who've lived it more deeply and experienced it more intimately.

This year I'm doing something about it and I hope you'll join me. I'll start with a prayer:

O Lord, anytime we make an excuse for the death of another human being, or anytime we place a pretty tree above someone else's pain, God, remind us that people like Eric Garner matter to you. Remind us that Jesus was born into this world for Eric's pain. Remind us that Jesus shares in his suffering. Remind us of what Jesus was born for, that on Christmas morning, Jesus was brought into this world to know what it is like to die Eric's death. Forgive us for our sin of hatred, apathy, and racism. And if we cannot meet you there God, remind us of how far away from that manger scene we really are. Amen.

SNAP Challenge Review

This is a follow up post to the SNAP challenge that we undertook throughout October. My original intention was to provide a weekly update on our progress, however over the past couple of weeks my schedule would not allow it. So this is a final note on our experience.

Looking back through October I am filled with grief over the congressional decision to go through with the cut to SNAP. I am grieved because millions of families will now have to make their food budgets work with 5.5% less than they had before. For the plan we were working off of, $267 a month for a household of two, would mean a reduction of $14.68 to a total of $252.32 per month. While $14.68 does not seem like a significant amount, when your food budget is so stretched that every dollar is pre-planned, analyzed and coveted, $14.68 means something will have to go. Maybe how that plays out is that the milk has to last a little longer than it already does, or there is yet another night of macaroni and cheese, but what it ultimately translates to is sacrifice in scarcity.

What I learned from participating in the challenge was that I hated being on it. Every day was filled with more stress, worrying about every meal, how much money was left, and what we could or could not buy. Surviving off of this amount of money is not a luxury, it is a burden. It is certainly a burden more preferable than having no supplemental support, but what it did not produce in us was a sense of security or comfort. Rather, every day was filled with anxiety over food.

At no point did we feel like this was a level of food income we would be comfortable maintaining.

Perhaps the biggest oversight in our challenge was that we did not truly experience what 76% of SNAP households do: a dependent. Whether that be a child, an elderly parent, or someone with a work prohibitive disability, we did not have to worry about a mouth to feed that could not provide a source of income. It breaks my heart to think of parents who have to worry about how much food their child(ren) will be able to have on their plate.
Maybe we could have cut $14.68 out of our budget, made it work, squeezed through it. Maybe I could have gone to bed with a little less food one night. But if I had a child I do not know how I would make that adjustment. How could I take food off of their plate?
This was also our greatest insight over the past month. When thinking about how these cuts would effect families with children, I wondered if we would have even tried this challenge if we had a child. The answer is no, we would not have taken this challenge on willingly. So now, more than ever, I am abundantly aware of the privilege I have in being able to make that choice. To say that this would not be right for my child when we can afford more. Which is why it also hurts me to know that those who control how much SNAP money is contributed to each family's food budget find themselves in the same privileged position that I am and yet find it so easy to make cuts.

For all the families that are having to make cuts to their food budgets this month I pray that God would help them find a way to be fed.
For all of those who are in positions of power over our budget I pray that their hearts be warmed and that God's Spirit would work in them so that all people might have access to the food they need and that none would go hungry.

Cracked Cisterns

"For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water." Jeremiah 2:13

Nabatean cistern north of Makhtesh Ramon, southern Israel. Photo by Wilson44691

For those not familiar with water collection in the desert, a cistern gathers rain water so that it can be stored and used later. This water, because it is stored, is stagnate and prone to becoming polluted, which is not to say that the water wouldn't do the job of keeping someone alive, but there is better water to be had. A cistern also requires a great deal of work to maintain. In the arid climate of the middle east, cisterns are dug into the ground, created through many hours of intense and costly labor. Once the rain water is collected, people have to travel to the cistern and draw water from it, often having to carry the water for miles.

Portuguese cistern El Jadida in Morocco.
This image was originally posted to Flickr by Axel Rouvin

Cisterns are/were such an essential part of living in the desert that in some places, cisterns were built in extravagant fashion.









Cisterns are difficult to build, hard to maintain, prone to failure, contain stagnate water, but are necessary to the survival in the desert. Living water, on the other hand, is water that is mobile, flowing, free. Living water is also less likely to contain pollution as the water moves any contamination further downstream. There is no cost of labor or goods to capture flowing water, but it is quite rare in the desert. This contrast points us to the absurdity of the people to whom God is speaking in Jeremiah. Given the choice between a cistern and a source of living water, the choice should be living water every time. But the accusation that God levies against the people is that they have chosen a cracked cistern, a broken cistern, one that cannot hold water, cannot sustain life and will always run dry, over the guarantee of free flowing water.

It sounds like a stupid thing to do, but we do it quite often, maybe without even realizing it. This passage from Jeremiah connects back with a saying in v.5 "Thus says the Lord: What wrong did your ancestors find in me, and went after nothing, and became nothing themselves?" The temptation when interpreting this passage is to make a claim similar to "you are what you eat." If that were the case then the temptation to go after "nothing" or things that are "worthless" would be fairly easy to avoid. Anybody who has played facebook games knows this pattern resides in our hearts. We spend hours toiling over, and worrying about, empty promises, worthless actions and fruitless farming. What makes these actions of nothing so contagious is their promise of something more at every go. They are a moving target, something that continually draws us out for more, but never fills us up.

My wife has gotten into watching the seemingly unending number of shows about the paranormal on TV. They're interesting shows if you enjoy hearing the occasional ghost story, but we noticed a trend with many of the shows. For so many of the people who claim to be afflicted with paranormal activity, their experiences seem to stem from their own troubles or inability to relinquish their anxieties and fears about the world. There was one episode where a mother and daughter claimed to have had a traumatic ghost experience. For a while they had come to believe that they were being haunted. One night their paranormal activity escalated when they were awoken in the middle of the night by a loud banging noise and footsteps on the floor above them. They were so terrified by the sounds that they cowered in their beds, unable to move for the fear of the paranormal. The next morning, as the daylight flooded their windows, they walked upstairs to investigate. What they found was a broken window, their stuff flung all over the room and several items missing. They presented this story as an encounter with ghosts that were trying to scare them out of their home. The host of the show then worked to "rid" the house of the spirits, through some ritual and prayer.
What this mother/daughter team experienced looked a lot less like "ghosts" and a lot more like a break in. The problem was that they were so caught up in looking for something that wasn't there to explain their pain, that when something really did happen, they had no meaningful way of dealing with it. They had been trying to draw water from a cracked cistern, so that every bump in the night became a ghost, which only reinforced the "presence" of ghosts in their lives.

I have a friend who is an alcoholic. They have been sober for many years now, but when they were drinking, they would go to AA meetings and leave after a few minutes, frustrated that something didn't immediately happen to them. When they got frustrated, they would drink. When they drank, they would get frustrated with their drinking. The whole time they knew that drinking wouldn't solve their drunkenness, but they also did not know what else to do about it. Every time they reached for a bottle, they reached for a cracked cistern, frustrated that the water it contained was polluted, but they were also blinded by the pollution so that they couldn't see the living water that was always readily available for them.

When we, as people of faith, turn to cracked cisterns we neither worship a real God, nor worship with our real selves.1 We worship nothingness, our frustration, our anxiety, the holes that are missing in our lives. When we worship the nothingness we think that one more click, one more bump, one more drink might prove to be real, thirst quenching, life. This text from Jeremiah is God calling us out, out of our nothingness into something meaningful, into worship of the living God, from whom flows living water, even, most surprisingly, amid the deserts and the wildernesses of our lives.



Skinner, Prophecy & Religion, p.71

Building What?

Hebrews 11:1-3

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.

This week I've been thinking a lot about buildings. Over the weekend Mallory and I went on a free architecture tour of some of the downtown skyscrapers in Detroit. I've driven or walked past many of those buildings before, been in a few of them, but many of the little details I've never noticed before and the history I barely knew. It is so hard to hear of all of the grand ideals that led to the construction of many buildings, the hope that by planting another skyscraper business would boom and people would come pouring in, knowing the painful truth that the ideal never made it to reality.
I've caught myself thinking back to some of the earlier posts I've written, especially this post from the summer of 2010, and all of the pieces of wood I've laid down, all of the nails hammered, all of the shingles put in place, all of the electrical work and all of the concrete that's been poured.

All of this has got me thinking: What is it that makes a place meaningful to us?
Is it the brick and mortar?
Is it the business that is conducted inside?
Is it how well worn the building is? or how well maintained?
Is it the history of a place? How long its been around?

There was an exercise that we did with the groups who came in for Motown Mission when I worked there in 2010. We made this big puzzle out of blank pieces of paper that when they were all assembled would make a house. On each piece of paper we asked our groups to write prayers they had at the end of their week.

Some folks would write how they were thankful to meet someone new. Others wrote about the new experiences they had shared. One person wrote this prayer:

"Lord, a house is broken, a house is in disrepair, a house is ugly. Your love, Your servants changed a house that's fixed, a house repaired, a house that is beautiful. Your love changed our hearts, your love changed the hearts of those with the house, Your love made a garden grow without weeds, your love made people happy and gave them hope."

In the opening verse of Hebrews chapter 11, the author of Hebrews says that "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the proof of things not seen." The words "not seen" do not necessarily connote a lack of vision, but rather a vision that has yet to be realized. There is some debate in biblical scholarship as to whether or not the "assurance" that is talked about is objective or subjective, whether the assurance is something immediately tangible or something felt by the individual. Alan Mitchell suggests that it is both, in that the assurance of things hoped for is not something we can produce, it exists as something that transcends the individual.1 

This is true as well for the work we do with our hands. 

Buildings are not simply a collection of things, assembled by the will of one person, but the result of a collective vision built in the hope that that vision may one day be realized.

In our faith life we continually strive toward a vision of what the world could be. We have biblical text, a history of faithful people, and the Holy Spirit to guide us in our endeavor. All of those resources point to one unifying factor: community.

A biblical text formed over thousands of years by many hands.

A history of faithful people, trying to live into their relationship with God.

The Holy Spirit, a member of the community of the Trinity, God as three in one, whose mission is giving life to the body of Christ.

Community is what makes a house a home, a building a reality, a vision not yet realized faith.

We need one another, a body, working together in the hope that the Kingdom of God would be made on earth as it is in heaven.

I enjoy the prayer I shared here so much because that prayer acknowledges that it is not the work of one person, or the vision of an individual by which the Kingdom comes, but through the power of God, driving the community to live into the new creation.

Community is what makes a place real, what transforms a building into something more, time spent here on earth into life, and broken people into the people of God.

1. Alan Mitchell, Sacra Pagina: Hebrews

Uncommon Prayer

A few years ago a friend of mine handed me a mix-tape (more like a mix-CD), with the intention of it being used in worship. Scrawled on the front of the disc were the words "Uncommon Prayer." On the back of the sleeve that held the disc were names like Louis Armstrong, The Mountain Goats, Mason Jennings, The Flaming Lips, and Iron & Wine. As I held the disc in my hand I remember thinking, "but these aren't Christian groups." 

As I listened to the music, I began to see where my friend was coming from.

These were songs that conveyed beauty of God's creation, the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, the challenge and experience of God's love.
They just didn't use the words I was familiar with and I realized that

God doesn't just use the words that carry an "official" Christian seal to convey truth or love. 

But then again, the words I was used to hearing don't guarantee some great ideal either. I was brought up in a Christian worship scene that was wrapped up in Veggie Tales and bands like Audio Adrenaline or Newsboys. I remember one song by the Newsboys that was quite popular at the concerts, lock-ins and youth gatherings I attended. It's called The Breakfast Song and it's a catchy little tune that I thought was about cereal, Jesus and faith. As I got older, I would think back to the lyrics with horror. It's a song clearly marketed toward children, where the primary message is a warning about Hell. The song describes a group of young cereal lovers (presumably children, due to the references to gym class) that are mourning the death of one of their friends. But their friend left them a reminder from his short lived life that "when the big one finds you/ may this song remind you/ they don't serve breakfast in hell."

I'm of the opinion that if you have to start off a conversation about the need for God in someone's life with warning on Hell, you've missed the point.

I also think that if you have to sell heaven (or hell) to children through sugary cereals, then you've missed every point along the way.

1

This is why I think that there's something captivating about authenticity, living the authentic life, that is just missed in the larger American Christian consumer culture. We sing songs about the lack of breakfast cereal in hell, when Jesus has provided a wonderful meal for us now, a simple meal of bread and wine. Furthermore the language of table in the Gospel feast is not one of warning, but of invitation. There's a reason why we all shake our heads at the folks standing on the street corner holding signs and shouting scripture warning of sin/death/the end. It feels cheap and unwelcome because we get that same message over and over but all it comes off as is a scare tactic. And a scare tactic is a terrible way to start a relationship founded on love. On the other side, there is an invitation to join in.

Read the words of Jesus that Luke provides:

Luke 22:15-20

"I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God." Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, "Take this and divide it among yourselves; for I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes." Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and give it to them, saying, "This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me." And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying "This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood."

There is an earnest desire from Jesus to share in this meal with the disciples. 

When Jesus sits down with the disciples for the Passover meal, he does it with intention, because this may be the last meal he shares with them. What I love so much about this meal is that the people that Jesus so eagerly desires to share it with are broken, hopeless, poor, wandering, untrustworthy, fearful, unworthy.
In other words,

they look a lot like the people both inside and outside the church. 

They are the kind of folks that God desperately wants to be in a relationship with, and their brokenness, their failures, their anger, their mistrust, are all welcome to the table. Remember, at this point in the story these people that Jesus is so eager to love and eat with are about to betray him, run from him, pretend like they have no clue who he is. And still, he wants to be with them. They don't have to be perfect, polished, deserving. They don't have to fit the form. They don't have to look anything like what we might associate with "holy" or "good" because God has already said that they are.
What Jesus tells the disciples in this meal is not that they are damned if they don't shape up, Jesus doesn't warn them about the lack of Capt'n Crunch in hell, but demonstrates that God's love is so relentless that even after all they've done and all they're about to do, God will continue to pursue them. God actually likes these people.
I imagine that the disciples probably had some less than perfect thoughts and prayers after Jesus was killed. What would it look like for us to be honest about our prayer? What would we say to God if we were authentic about who we are and where we're at? What would people say about us if we let our guard down and showed off our less polished self to the world? (They probably wouldn't say much that was good) but what would they say about God? (Probably a lot of truth)

What would the world be like if Christians were common people who relate to God with "Uncommon" prayer.

1. Sugary Cereal photo from TheAtlantic.com

A New Spirit

"They came to Capernaum, and on the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue and began to teach. The people were spellbound by the teaching, because Jesus taught with an authority that was unlike their religious scholars. Suddenly a person with an unclean spirit appeared in their synagogue. It shrieked, 'What do you want from us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are the Holy One of God!' Jesus rebuked the spirit sharply: 'Be quiet! Come out of that person!' At that the unclean spirit convulsed the possessed one violently, and with a loud shriek it came out. All who looked on were amazed. They began to ask one another, 'What is this? A new teaching, and with such authority! This person even gives orders to unclean spirits and they obey!' Immediately news of Jesus spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee." - Mark 1:21-28

There is something about exorcism that has fascinated people for thousands of years. 
When I was growing up the one movie that my mother insisted that my brother and I never see was the 1973 film The Exorcist because it scared her so much. 
There have been plenty of exorcism themed films to come out since the original especially over the past decade.
To many of my friends, who were not very religious, one of the first questions that was on their mind after they find out that I was pursuing a life of ministry was “does this mean you’ll be doing exorcisms?” 
And really, that’s not an unfair question, 
especially when the first “work” that Jesus does in Mark’s Gospel is an exorcism. 
So if Christians are supposed to follow in the example of Christ, it makes sense that exorcism is something that I would do. 
However, as with most things, there are some stark differences between what's going on in our text and what pop culture has to say about exorcism.
Right before this passage in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is finding disciples and telling them he will make them fishers of men.
Now the first thing that Jesus does after recruiting his first disciples is take them to a town called Capernaum along the shores of Galilee. This is probably a town that the disciples are familiar with. 
And Jesus, being the disciple's Rabbi, brings them to worship on the Sabbath. 
The text says that Jesus showed up in the synagogue to teach.
In order for Jesus to be able to teach in the synagogue he has to be recognized as a Rabbi by more than the disciples, but by the community. 
We know from the Gospel of Luke that Jesus spent some time in the temple in Jerusalem studying under the Rabbis. So perhaps the people in Capernaum already know this and recognize Jesus as someone who has authority as Rabbi. 
At the very least it's clear that Jesus already has some authority to be able to stand up and teach. 


And there's a lot that could be said about what Jesus does with that. 


The Gospel writer makes a huge point out of the authority of Jesus in this teaching moment. 
Now, I could say that the sole purpose behind this authority is for us, the readers, to understand Jesus as the Christ.
Which I think is entirely valid, but if we're reading through the Gospel of Mark like a narrative, 
like it was written, 
then we already know of Jesus' relationship to God when the heavens part at his baptism. 
One of the themes that the Gospel writer Mark is all about is this idea of who is in the know and who isn't. 
Who understands what's going on and who doesn't.
Some would say that the question that Mark keeps asking us is: "do you get it?"
But there is also something else going on in our text today.
The way that the Gospel writer has written this story is what some commentators call bracketing.
Mark uses bracketing to 
1) make a claim, 
2) interject some information and 
3) come back to that claim to show how the interjected information supports the claim.
In our text bracketing is used to give us the idea is that the person with an unclean spirit is meant to appear while Jesus is teaching.
So the crowd's reaction is not only to the words that Jesus speaks, but also to the effects that they have.


So lets look at our story again. 


Jesus and a couple disciples come to worship, 
Jesus gets up to preach, 
but Jesus isn't some ordinary preacher. 
When he speaks to the text, 
the people recognize something, 
they hear something that they haven't gotten from any of the scribes, or religious authorities who have worshiped with them before. 
Then in the middle of Jesus' teaching, 
there comes this person with an unclean spirit. 
Jesus uses his authority to call out the unclean spirit and the people are amazed.
 The idea of an unclean spirit tells us something a little different than we're used to hearing when we think about exorcism.
A central practice in Jewish faith in the first century is the notion of purity. 
Ritual purity, 
Spiritual purity,
Physical purity.
Being pure, is the lens through which the scriptures have been interpreted for the people with whom Jesus is worshiping, and the lens through which they interpret what and who is socially acceptable.
So for someone to have an unclean spirit, means that they would be entirely unaccepted.
The fact that this person is even in the synagogue would come as shock.
Due to the bracketed story telling that Mark is engaged in, it would be safe to say that this person is already among the worshipers.
No one really seems to acknowledge that there's an unclean spirit among them until the truth comes out.
If all of this has been to prove to the people that Jesus is the Christ, then their affliction seems like little more than God using them. 
Why should anyone be burdened with an unclean spirit?
Why should anyone be rejected based on purity?


I was in Ghana in 2008 as a part of a team that had been working with a group of women who had been rejected from their community because they carried HIV/AIDS. 
Many of them had been abandoned by their husbands and families, or were too ashamed to return home. 
At that time Sub-Saharan Africa accounted for over 70% of the world's total HIV/AIDS population. 
But in many countries, the stigma and lack of education can be far worse than even the terrible stuff that happens here in the States. 
They came together after their leader Hagar was left in the hospital by her family and Hagar began to notice that there were a lot of other women in her same situation. 
So Hagar brought them together and formed a group that they called "Women Living Positively with HIV/AIDS." 
They started out as a support group, they would survive as long as they could. 
But, as their group began to grow it became increasingly apparent that there was more they could do. 
So they reached out to my home church. 
They didn't want to just survive, they wanted to live. 
Eventually they got the idea to start up a business to generate revenue so they could buy medicine and provide for each other. 
They had pooled what little money they had and began working. 
They created fabrics and clothing, and they changed their name to First United Women because no one would buy their product if they were associated with HIV/AIDS. 
In order to keep the business running, they were going to need more funding then what they had. 
Part of the reason my group was there was to help facilitate a series of micro-loans and to provide a market in the states for them to sell more of their product. 
On the second to last night that we were in Ghana, we had invited our new business partners to celebrate with us at the small hotel we had been staying at in Kumasi. 
We got the music going, 
people were dancing, 
playing games, 
we had this big dinner, 
and other people began to notice. 
Some of the other folks staying at the hotel came out and began to party with us. 
Then the hotel staff slowly took up the invitation to join in. 
At the end of the night, after the First United Women had left, 
some of the staff approached our pastor and asked who all of those women were. 
They were asking because they had had a pretty good time and thought that they had made some new friends. 
So our pastor told them, and the look the staff had was utter confusion. 
Someone said "But they looked so... alive."

Dancing with and revealing the First United Women did the same thing for some of the hotel staff, as the exorcism did for the community in Capernaum. 
The problem is not with the person with the unclean spirit.
Jesus continually challenges the religious authorities who would claim that sickness and possessions are the fault and punishment of the sick and possessed.
I don't believe that, Jesus doesn't believe that.
What Jesus is doing is speaking truth to power.
By removing the unclean spirit Jesus frees the community to see one another in a new light.
Suddenly purity is less important if there is someone with the authority of God who can say that the impure is now pure.
In the understanding of the religious leaders, only the clean could come to God.
However, by the example of Jesus, God comes to the "unclean," bringing them into wholeness and life.


There is a commentary that looks at the sociological understanding of what Jesus has done here.
They say that in an honor & shame society, the shared information about one's status would be the basis upon which an individual would be judged.
So there are two big changes that happen in our text.
One is that Jesus of Nazareth, is elevated in status to someone who teaches with unique authority, the authority of God.
The other is that the person who was possessed, 
has been restored to their community.
I think there's also a third change that happens.
When Jesus removes the unclean spirit, he reveals the brokenness of the community.
The community, in coming to recognize the depth to which God desires for us to be whole,
to go out and be in the presence of the "unclean,"
to touch someone who is sick,
to love someone who doesn't look like you,
or think like you do,
the community becomes open to a new Spirit, to the new thing that God is doing.

When one of the hotel staff in Ghana had the revelation that the women he had met was alive,
God was at work,
calling out the "unclean spirit" and revealing the depths of God's love, that even a woman with HIV/AIDS can have life, 
be whole,
be worthy of love.
The work that Jesus is involved in with this exorcism is exactly that same work.
Jesus is calling out the unclean revealing to the Capernaum community that even the person they've tried to ignore can have life,
be whole,
be worthy of love.
And most importantly,
when they get that,
when we get that,
we become open to what the Spirit of God can do,
and we're made whole as well.
And if that is what exorcism is all about,
then I guess I would do that too.

The Risks We Take

One issue that has weighed heavily on my heart recently is that of accountability.
What do we require?
What is required of us?
In the priesthood of all believers we are all called to be representatives for Christ in the world.
So what does God require?

So often it seems as though we are unwilling to deal with the difficult tasks before us.
We try to push the problem off,
onto someone else,
further down the road,
away from where we are.
More often than not we use our religion as a crutch.
We use our churches as barricades,
walling ourselves in
and actively working to keep those who do not resemble us

Out.

The other day I was reading an article that described the business practices of the bulk goods store: Costco.
The purpose of the article was to talk about the stark difference in business practices between Costco and their largest competitor, Walmart.
Apparently, Costco has become known as a company that is significantly more friendly to its employees than most other big chains.
Their average pay is higher,
their health insurance plans are generally better,
and their average worker turn-over is significantly lower.
What surprised me about the article was what some analysts have begrudgingly said about their business practices:

It's better to be an employee than a shareholder.

Now I don't know who the analyst is that made that statement,
nor do I know their convictions or their faith.
So my thoughts about it are not directed at them.
However,
it does make me wonder what the Christian response should be.
What the response of the priesthood of all believers should be.

That one analysts's statement brings to mind a few others:
Proverbs 16:19
Better to be lowly in spirit along with the oppressed than to share plunder with the proud.
Psalm 84:10b
I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.

This is the disconnect for me. Something about that analysts's statement doesn't sit right in the light of these texts. It doesn't fit.
The message coming from the biblical texts is one that subverts our understanding of what positions of honor or respect look like. These biblical texts subvert what we might think is owed to us.


James Cone, in his work "Risks of Faith" asks an important question:
"Whose Earth Is It, Anyway?"
His response is Psalm 24: "The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it."
All of creation belongs to God.
That means that everything from the air we breath,
to the molten core of the planet,
to the germs that inhabit our bodies,
to the very next person we meet,
and even we belong to God.
Cone argues that we are held accountable by God in what we do with that.
Do we really listen to our sisters and brothers who look different from us?
Who think differently?
Who were brought up on the other side of town?
In my denomination there are people of many backgrounds,
from countries around the world.
And yet,
in the U.S. 93% of the church is white.
Do we really know our sisters and brothers who are different?
In talking about the Youth Lounge program at Broadway United Methodist Church in Chicago, Pastor Lois McCullen Parr describes what it's like to run a program that feeds and provides a "hang-out" space  in the church for 50-70 LGBTQ youth, many of who are without a home, two Saturdays a month.
When asked why other organizations aren't running the same program she says:

"The way we operate is, some people would say, risky. We don't have rules published at the door. We don't make people show us an ID or leave their bags anywhere. Some people would say: You're asking for trouble."-1 Windy City Times

But she also says that taking that risk is worth it because, "when you treat people with love and respect, they respond, and they rise to the occasion."-2 Windy City Times 


Rudy Rasmus outlines the Apostle Paul's understanding of accountability in his book "Touch."
He says there are three big points for Paul:
Attitude,
Activism,
And Authority.
Attitude is exemplified in Paul's instruction to be humble as modeled after the life of Jesus.
Humility is the surrendering of oneself in belonging to God.
Humility is coming to be committed to belonging to God.
Activism comes from the actual work of Jesus, in loving all that we encounter.
Activism is what we choose to do with our faith, how we live into our belonging to God.
Authority is what comes from the Holy Spirit.
The Spirit of God gives us the power that is necessary to be servants,
to care more for another than our own profit.

Rasmus says: "I warn people that following Christ might make their lives more complicated--at least for a while."(p.121)
There are risks to following Jesus,
because in doing so we render ourselves accountable to God and to all of creation.
When creation groans, we groan.
When we shut out others, we shut out ourselves.
When we put our profit margins above creation, we put wealth above God.
Following Christ is not easy because following Christ isn't about "me",
or what "I" want.
Following Christ is not easy because it doesn't fit neatly into a market or a government.
Following Christ requires taking risk,
being bold.
Following Christ is giving more than we've got,
receiving more than we can handle,
loving when we don't feel it,
hoping when we can't see it,
praying when there are no words,
and speaking truth even when it comes at a great personal cost.
What does God require of you?

Who will you actively love?
What pain will you heal?
How much will you surrender to follow Christ?


What risks will you take?



1 & 2. Erica Demarest. "Lakeview pastor talks 'love work' LGBTQ Youth Series from Windy City Times" Windy City Times 11 Nov. 2012