Mark 6:45-56 |…They Did Not Understand

This passage is a nice example of how quickly Mark moves. The first part we may recognize from Matthew 14 where it is not only Jesus who walks on water, but he calls Peter to do so as well. Mark almost uses this famous story as a mere transition to get to more healing- to get from one place to another, both physically and narratively. It feels much more practical in Mark than it does in Matthew. In Mark Jesus simply sees they’re in trouble, still tries to avoid them, but when he see’s they’re in trouble, he can’t. So he gets into the boat with them, calms the storm, and in their lack of understanding about the loaves and about this, Mark says, “but their hearts were hardened”. That’s it. It’s very technical and uninspiring, if you ask me.

Then we get to more healing stories, but even that feels a bit fly over: It’s merely, “all who touched him were healed”. What I find interesting about putting these two stories in the same day’s reading is the dichotomy between Jesus’ disciples and the crowds. The disciples, who are living, eating and sleeping with Jesus have hardened hearts about all that Jesus is doing. They’re unsure, they don’t get it, they’re bordering on confusion. But the crowds “recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was” (6:54-55). The crowds believe. The crowds see him for who he is without seeking to understand the nuances of who he is. All they know is that Jesus is one who feeds the hungry, heals the sick, liberates the possessed and oppressed.

That said, the crowds don’t have the responsibility of following him. So before I say what I want to below, I also want to give the disciples a little benefit of the doubt. They’re trying. But the trick of being in that position is the risk we run of doing what Wordsworth warned us about in a whole other context: “We murder to dissect.” That is, photo-1551076805-e1869033e561when we seek to understand something entirely, we often chop it to pieces to the degree that we destroy its heart and soul.

With that said, I wonder sometimes if we get too wrapped up in dissecting Jesus as though he’s a subject on a lab table for us to cut open and study and understand, rather than laying ourselves down on an operating table as a patient for the surgeon to press into and heal and transform. The operating table is scary, but it’s good. Very good. And so is the surgeon.

Mark 6:30-44 | What Do You Have?

This is one of those stories that shows up in all four Gospels, and they all seem to hit something different to me. As I read Mark’s version, I wonder if the loaves and fishes really isn’t about the loaves and fishes. Often we read about Jesus retreating by himself reuben-hustler-YTV2zNt8Zqg-unsplashand then others interrupting him. But here in Mark, just prior to this great miracle, we have Jesus making an invitation: “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” Wow.

Remember the context: Just prior to this, Jesus has sent his disciples out to do what he does: Go to the people, call them to return, heal the sick, and cast out evil. Then they all hear about the morbid, politically and personally motivated assassination of John the Baptist. They have been giving themselves to Christ’s mission and now are in grief, and they are tired. How sweet must those words be: “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” This may be the kindest, gentlest Jesus we’ve seen in Mark.

Of course, it didn’t last long. The crowds show up, and they are hungry. Jesus cannot turn them away, but the disciples see no means by which they can feed them. And Jesus says these piercing words, that to me may be some of those most important for the many struggling mainline churches out there today like mine: “You give them something to eat… How many fish do you have?”

This story is not merely about a miracle of loaves and fishes. It’s about the people God getting rightly aligned to do God’s work. It begins with “come away to a deserted place…” And from there, when we look at the work before us to feed the people, both literally and metaphorically, our task is not to look at what we don’t have, but to look at what we do have: “How many fish do you have” (the operative word maybe being “do” as opposed to “don’t”).

The work is hard, but it is, oh, so good and right and beautiful. But it takes focus. It takes the discipline to trust that the work is God’s work ultimately, not our own, and so we “come away” from it not only to get rest, but to remind ourselves that the work is God’s and not ours. It’s a way of saying, “God doesn’t need me”. There’s a burden attached when someone “needs” us. To “come away” not only restores us, but it says “God doesn’t need me, but God does want me.” It’s as though Jesus is saying to his disciples, “Look, I don’t need you along with me in this work- I can do it without you. But I’d rather do it with you.”

When we get aligned to that, then we stop looking at what we lack, and we begin to see just what we have that Jesus believes is within us. We begin to see how many fish we do have to offer. And so, how many fish do you have? Now go and offer them and see what Christ will do with them.

Mark 6:14-29 | A Dark Turn

ethan-hoover-eIVJAkj1uCs-unsplashWe have taken A dark, dark turn. Things have been moving along, and the pressure has been building, but this story here in Mark 6:14ff serves as a sober reminder of where this rapidly paced narrative is heading. If you recall, John the Baptist was arrested early in the story (Mark 1:14). Since then, if you’re like me, you’ve forgotten about him entirely. Remember, he was Jesus’ cousin, he baptized Jesus, and he had quite a following of disciples himself. In this sense he was more than an amicable contemporary of Jesus. In a very real way he was a partner, both doing the work alongside Jesus and paving the way for Jesus.

Mark takes time to outline the death of John the Baptist here, and there are two things about that which are important. One, whenever Mark takes time to tell a story, we need to pay attention, because he is otherwise rushing through everything. His gospel is a fast-track to the cross, so when he slows down, it matters. Two, this the first time in Mark’s gospel that a story is told that doesn’t center around the work and life of Christ. Jesus almost disappears for a moment. If Mark is in such a hurry to get to the cross, why does he spend this much time on a story about a whole other character?

There could be many answers to that question, but I think this is definitely in the mix: Mark is reminding us that this is not merely about religion. This story is political. People often say that politics and religion shouldn’t mix, and that we shouldn’t talk about politics. I understand that. But the problem is this stuff is necessarily political. This kind of work has consequences in all corners of our worlds, and this story reminds us that the political realm is one of them.

If John is seen as a threat to the political powers that be to the point of having his head on a platter as birthday present, just what might be in store for Jesus? It is as if Mark is saying to us and to Jesus’ disciples, “Look out. This is where all this is trending.” Turning kingdoms inside out and upside down is perhaps some of the best work that can be done in this world, but it comes at a cost- a very high cost, and if you look through this world’s history, you will find that there are very few exceptions. We just came off of celebrating Are we sure we want to be disciples of Jesus? Are we sure we want to do what the master does?

Mark 6:7-13 |…Began to Send Them Out.

Catch this pearl of wisdom from Jesus: “Stay there until you leave the place.” I always loved that one. But seriously…

LukesaberanhImmediately following Jesus’ rejection in his home town, we read how he is not really phased. The end of verse 6 says, “Then he went about among the villages teaching.” I hear that as, “Jesus shrugged it off and moved on with what God had him on this earth to do.” But after this, the movement takes a quick but important shift. “The 12” are no longer just students, following in his footsteps. Now they are sent. Jesus is sending the 12 out to do the work that Jesus has been doing. I once heard someone define “disciple” as “someone who does what their master does”.

That’s what we see here. A disciple is a learner or a student, to be sure. In fact the Greek word for disciple is μαθητεύω (mathēteuō). It’s where we get our word for “mathematics”, which speaks to studying, learning and in this case being a learner. But this learning is not for learning’s sake alone. It’s for doing. A disciple is one who sits at the feet of their master and learns what the master does for the sake of doing what the master does. For six chapters Jesus has been doing, and he will continue to being about doing. But he won’t be the only one. Here he sends the 12 to go out and do what he does.

This rag tag band of Jesus followers were not so long ago whiney little teenagers headed to Toshi station to pick up some power converters. Now they’re in the presence of the master, sent out to do the master’s work in the world. This is our call too. To be a disciple is to go and do what our master does. And in verse 12-13 we read that they did just that: “So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.” They did it. By the power of the Spirit within them, they cast out evil, just as Jesus did, and they healed the sick.

But they likely also didn’t. You see, just as Jesus was rejected, guess what? Very likely so too were the disciples. That’s why Jesus instructs on them what to do if they are not welcomed. We will, just as Jesus did prior to this call, heed his teaching in this call and “shake off the dust that is one our feet” and move on to continue with the hard but good work of doing what our master does. May the force be with you.

Mark 6:1-6 |And They Took Offense…

Well this is a strange little passage. We are six chapters in and from the get-go Jesus has been astounding and amazing the masses, gaining steam, and gaining followers. He has just come off of two amazing healings, and it appears the Kingdom is tearing even more widely open than we could have imagined. And now he’s about to delegate that work to the 12, but before he does he goes home. And what does he get? Suspicion. Skepticism. Rejection. Those in his hometown “took offense at him” (v. 3). Why? You would think he would get a hero’s welcome, but what he gets is “is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary?” Essentially what he’s getting is “is not this that snot-nosed little Jesus kid? Born out of wedlock? Couldn’t even make it as a rabbi (as evidenced by working as a carpenter into adulthood)? And now we’re supposed to listen to this?”

This question is what is the “this” that he said? What did he say that aroused such rejection? We don’t know what he said, but what we know of Jesus, especially in Mark, is that his words and teachings are hard. Mark cleverly leaves his teaching out, only telling us, “On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue…” (v. 2). Based on their response I imagine he had some hard words for his fellow Nazarenes. This could be a parallel scene to the one in Luke 4:18-30 where Jesus proclaims that one of Isaiah’s prophecies in fulfilled in his reading of it, and they get so mad at him they try to throw him off a cliff. It’s hard enough to hear a challenging word from a stranger, but when you hear it from your brother, from the neighbor kid who broke your window hitting a baseball into it, from your class rival from high school… that’s hard.

Jesus’ commitment to tearing open the kingdom is relentless. He will call out what needs to be called out, and he will call in what needs to be called, even if it means being rejected at home. Can you feel the tension in Mark building? It’s like a pressure cooker, and it can only take so much more…

Mark 5:21-43 |The Markan Sandwich

A “Markan Sandwich”. That’s often how this passage is described. They show up in Mark, but most clearly here. A “Markan Sandwich” is when Mark takes a story and kind of “sandwiches” it within another story. It’s as though there is one story that is the bread and another that is the meat. In this case the story of Jairus and his daughter is the bread, and the woman who had been bleeding for 12 years is the meat.

Mark is intentional about telling the story this way, but the question is why? What’s the purpose of doing this? I don’t suppose we really know, but it’s pretty apparent that he wants us to read each of these stories in context with the other. Whenever we see this format, one of the first things we should do is compare and contrast the stories. Because it’s a “sandwich”, there are likely intentional similarities and corresponding differences.

Similarities: Both stories involve women who desire/need healing. Both women are at some point “unclean” (once the girl is presumed dead, she is “unclean”, and women who were bleeding were considered I clean. I know, I know! It some serious sexist stuff.). The number 12 (a common biblical number) comes up with both (one is 12 years old, one has been bleeding for 12 years). Both get healed. And By virtue of contact, Jesus would be deemed “unclean” in both stories. Anything else you see?

Differences: One involves a grown woman, one a child. The woman touches Jesus, but the girl is touched by Jesus. The girl has someone advocate for her, the woman advocates for herself. One is healed very publicly, the other very privately- and even more so Jesus is intentional about making sure it goes this way; he instructs the woman to confess in front of the crowd to being the one who touched him, but with the girl, he specifically sends people away. The woman is likely poor and comes from a low social status, while the girl is likely wealthy and comes from a high social status. Again, anything else?

There are sure to be more, but as you can see, there are many similarities and corresponding differences. The question I wonder is this: Why does Mark choose to do this here? There have been numerous healings throughout the gospel. Why does he do this here? There are a whole heap of potential answers, but I might throw this one out as a possibility:

In 4+ chapters we have about six stories of Jesus healing someone or casting out evil spirits (I might be off with my quick count), not counting the “many” that are also often referred to (see 1:34, for example).  That’s actually kind of a lot. By this point reading about him healing someone is kind of yawner. “Got it, okay, you healed someone again. Yay, Jesus.” But so far all of his healing and exorcisms have been on men (with the exception of Simon’s mother-in-law, who, unlike the men, is not a stranger). But all of sudden, here we have two stories about two different women. I think Mark uses the “sandwich” here because he wants us to slow down for minute. He’s saying “paying attention to this one”.

He wants us to pay attention because these ones involve women, and women whose intersections of identities represent such a wide span of women, that he intends to mean all women. We have young woman and an older women, a rich woman and a poor woman, and insider and an outsider). Women literally didn’t count in those days (we’ll see this in soon in Mark 6:44 where “those who had eaten the loaves numbered five thousand men“). I wonder if Mark is saying here, what he’s been saying all along, which is the boundaries of who counts is tearing open: Women count. Women matter. And they matter a lot. They are not property. They are not assets. They are humans endowed with the power of the spirit just like men. And they can receive this power, just like a man, either by touching the “Son of God” directly and being touched by him. This is not a good old boys club- not any more.

There are a myriad of other points to pull out of these stories. They are rich and full. It’s a good sandwich. What the ingredients you notice? How did it speak to you?

Mark 5:1-20 |In His Right Mind

As I said in my message on Sunday, I really don’t like this story. I find it disturbing. I can’t get past the pigs. I have had endless conversations and have read numerous commentaries on the whole demons into the pigs and the pigs die part of it. Nothing has satisfied me. But also as I said in my sermon on Sunday, what is maybe the most julian-dutton-vRuXP6FyLhw-unsplashdisturbing part of it is not the pigs, but is this man himself, and the fact that I’m more concerned about the pigs.

Too often I read stories in the Bible and I let human horrors glide right by. I worry about the pigs, but not the human. “Well… it is the Bible, after all.” The more I play this out, however, the more disturbing it is. This man is possessed by demons, presumably a lot of them. Jesus asks the man his name and he says  “Legion”, which indicates a legion of soldiers. Just as the land is occupied by an outside force, so too is this man. And his possession is so great that he has completely lost control of himself, to the degree that the text tells us “no one had the strength to subdue him” and that he bruised himself with stones. So what did they do? They chained and him and shackled him among the tombs.

Beloved, this is a human being. My wife works in inpatient psych, and she can tell you that there are times when we need to physically restrain someone… like in actual restraints. But of course that work today is done in a far more humane way, with processes to guard the dignity of one’s humanity and to work for healing. But in Jesus’ day, they didn’t know what to do. There was no medication they could give him to calm his body. He was simply possessed by demons. And evidently all this town knew to do was to chain him up, where he could do no harm to anyone else: That is, among the already dead. I’m not sure what the answer could have been in those days, but there had to be a better option. This is a human, on whom the community gave up, effectively transformed into a wild beast, and named as dead by shackling him among tombs.

I know this is a story about a man possessed by an outside spiritual force, but knowing what we know today, I can’t help but simply think that he was severely mentally disturbed. They couldn’t have known this then, but we do now. We’re learning a lot about mental illness, thanks be to God. And science. And I say all this, because while this story is about many things, maybe it disturbs me so much as it does, because it’s staring us in the face, asking us, “how do we see and treat those battling with mental illness today?” It’s easy for us to dismiss the way the community treated the man if he is possessed by a legion of demons. But what if he’s simply mentally ill? That’s lands different.

We are doing a lot better than we were even a mere 10-20 years ago, let alone 2,000. But we’ve still got a long way to go. We are not chaining people among the tombs, but I believe there is a way in which we are still chaining people in the stigma that still exits when it comes to mental illness. Let’s not let 2,000 year old stories be our benchmark for combatting mental illness. Let’s hold a fully redeemed and liberated humanity as our benchmark.

Mark 4:35-41 | Who Then is This?

dlanor-s-fzjWFym9jjE-unsplashWhen we read story of Jesus, it’s important to remember that we have the benefit of knowing the whole story. We know who Jesus is (or do we?) and how the story ends, but Jesus’ disciples don’t have the benefit of that information. In this story comes a question that is easy for us to gloss over, but it is actually a key question in Mark: “Who then is this?” Later that question will be turned on to the disciples as Jesus asks, “who do you say that I am”. This story likely plays a significant role in their answer.

It’s also important to remember that the people in this story don’t have the benefit of the scientific advancements we have. While weather is still relatively unpredictable to us today, we understand scientifically what is happening with it. But in Jesus’ day, weather was deeply mysterious and often directly to connected to God (or the gods). It was the work of God, done at God’s command. Psalm 135:5-7 says, “I know that the Lord is great; our Lord is above all gods. He it is who make the clouds rise at the end of the earth; he makes the lightnings for the rain and brings out the wind from his storehouses”. Psalm 107:28-29 says, “Then they cried to the LORD in their trouble, and he brought them out from their distress; he made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.” While these are poems, they come out of a lived belief that God is responsible for weather. There was no other explanation. It was, in a sense, their science. It was their only way to understand the mysterious and unpredictable patterns of weather.

So when Jesus gets up and “commands” the wind (“rebuke” can also be translated “command”) and says “Peace, be still” and the storm calms, the disciples view of who he is shifts. He’s no longer just a great prophet and teacher, with great healing power; he’s no longer even just the “son of God” or one “sent by God”. He’s commanding the wind and the waves and they are obeying him. This is not what anyone of this earth does. People have healed. People have cast out demons. People have taught. But not this. This is what Yahweh does. So, “who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?” They were already afraid because of the wind and the waves. But I wonder what kind of fear came over them at this moment. “Whose presence are we in?”

That’s a good question for us. As we pray, as we gather for worship, as we serve: whose presence are we in? Do we have the same awe, wonder and even fear as the disciples did? Or have we whittled Jesus down to merely our “best bud”? Who, then, is this? Whose presence are we in? Just whose footsteps are we following? I said early that we have the benefit of knowing who Jesus is. But do we?

Mark 4:30-34 |Huge Faith, Not Little Faith

avinash-kumar-F2ojfp1kyBA-unsplashI don’t really like mustard. But that’s beside the point. In today’s passage we have an oft quoted parable. I think people like it because, like its subject, it’s short. In any case people love this parable, but I think maybe for a misguided reason. As I read this parable the familiar phrase in my mind was “faith like a mustard seed”. Every heard that before? Often we think of the “Parable of the Mustard Seed” being about what a tiny amount of faith can do. But Jesus isn’t talking about faith here. He’s comparing the mustard seed to the Kingdom of God, not faith. It’s not about a tiny amount of faith. It’s actually about a huge amount of faith. It’s about having a faith that says yes to the idea that the smallest of seeds can (and will) have a massive impact. This parable appears in all three synoptic Gospels (Mark, Matthew and Luke), and in none of them does the word “faith” appear. They all compare the seed to the kingdom.

He says, “with what can we compare the kingdom of God?”. The Kingdom of God is like the mustard seed: First of all, it’s small and unassuming. That is, it is like a little baby “nobody”, born of a poor “nobody” unwed teenage girl who happens to be favored by God, and is engaged to a hard working “nobody” carpenter, and for whom there is no room. It’s unassuming, small, and unimportant, yet will still be seen, even in its smallness, as a serious threat to the religious and governmental powers of the time.

This kingdom starts small and humble, and it finds its power in being small and humble as it lays itself down to be buried by the earth; and when it does, it breaks wide open into an untamable weed (for that’s what a mustard plant is) that takes over and in whom shelter, safety, protection and a home is found by others. God’s kingdom starts small, and then is for the world a weed that the world would like to prune, but in whom many find a home.  Let’s just let that in.

Make no mistake: This is not a parable about small faith. This is a parable about huge faith. the kind of faith that believes that the tiny mustard seed can grow to become the greatest of all shrubs. The kind of faith that believes a common little baby from the carpenter trade, will break open and birth new life to the world. Thy kingdom come…

Mark 4:26-29 | Setting the Atmosphere

With everything I’ve said about parables, I am now, by virtue of this series, required to unpack them and pull out some kind of meaning from them. So what I will do is simply unpack what they’re saying to me. Before you read this, go back to the parable and wonder what it’s saying to you. What do you hear?

Here’s what I hear:Growing healthy food

This brief parable says of the growing seed “…he [the farmer] does not know how”. I’m not a farmer. I’m not a gardener. This is a realm about which I know little to nothing. But one thing I do know is this: the gardner does not make anything grow. All the gardener does is set up an atmosphere where the greatest growth is possible. But when it comes down to it, the fact that seeds sprout and grow is a miracle every time it happens. Yes, science continues to explain more and more of how these things work, but in the end, we don’t really know why they work the way they work. Why water? Why sun? Why oxygen? Why soil? Why not thin air? Why not toothpaste? Why not something I can control. When it comes to growth, all we can do is set an atmosphere, and it is by the work- the grace- of God that anything grows. We do not get to control the results.

When I think about my own life and ministry, this is a sobering lesson. I’m a person of great vision. I see a preferred future in many areas, both personally and vocationally, and I want to make those preferred futures happen. I get impatient. I can even get controlling to the point where I think something might be a failure if it doesn’t look like what was in my head.  I’m getting better. But when I, for example, preach a sermon, there are often specific results I’m looking to get, and I’m hoping to get them when I want to get them. But it doesn’t work that way. All I can do is till the soil, scatter the seed, scatter in a place where it will get optimum light, and water it the best I can with the resources I have. The God will do what God does. It is in God’s time, at God’s pace, and in God’s vision that those seeds will sprout. Not mine.

So… I scatter seed. Tomorrow I will get up and see if anything has sprouted. If it hasn’t, I will water it, go to bed and get up in the morning and check again. This is the rhythm of spiritual formation in our lives. Scatter seeds in good soil, water them, and wait full of faith that even in the darkness of the soil, God is working.