Sermon: 21st Sunday after Pentecost
17 October 2021 –
Archdeacon Mark Long
Hebrews 5:1-10,
Psalm 104:1-10, 35-36, and Mark 10:35-45; NRSV
I am sure today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel is not unfamiliar to most of us, especially as this account – with minor tweaks – is also echoed in Matthew’s Gospel. As we hear James and John’s request to be seated on Jesus’ right and left our minds jump quickly to Jesus’ response even before we hear the words read. We know that James and John will not be offered what they desire, that their asking will lead to conflict with the other disciples, and that Jesus will use it as a teaching moment where we will again be asked to wrap our minds around the paradoxical thought that power lies not in holding positions of influence but rather in service, and to be first is to be last and to be last is to be first.
Not for the first time we are reminded that God’s people are called to live differently, are called to live in opposition to generally accepted social norms when it comes to the use of power. Jesus’ reference to the Gentiles would have been to the Roman rulers and those aligned with them, and was an unsubtle critique of the tyrannical abuse of power by those who ruled Jewish society on behalf of Rome. Mark is asking us to recognise the discomforting nature of Jesus’ teaching, that to be in the service of God is to address the misuse of power that benefits those who are first at the expense of those who are last, that benefits the wealthy at the expense of the poor.
What is intriguing about this interaction is that it follows on directly from Jesus’ third foretelling of his death and resurrection in Mark’s Gospel, where he will be condemned to death by the chief priests and scribes, handed over to the Gentiles who will mock, denigrate, torture and kill him.[1] How do the disciples, not just James and John, but all of them miss the significance of this? I can understand them not grasping the reference to resurrection, but Jesus words concerning dying must have been clear? Did they choose to ignore what Jesus was saying, or were his words just so left-field that they chose not to process them in their desire to see social change and economic justice enacted in their time on their terms? They seemed to keep missing that the transformation Jesus’ was seeking to inaugurate – while inclusive of their own hopes and dreams for their context – offered not just change and momentary justice, but more: a different pattern of relationship for humanity. And two millennia later we still struggle to truly comprehend the beauty of life offered in the words of John’s Gospel: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”[2]
In our own time we are living in a convergence of politics, protest, and a pandemic; we are living in the midst of individual, collective, and global trauma; in the midst of merging crises; and we should not be surprised that everything we do, everything we believe in, is called into question either by ourselves or by others.[3] And just like James and John and the other disciples we are struggling to keep up. Our faith is not disconnected from the challenges of our times and the Church as institution is not immune to justified criticism. We are faced with the discomforting question as to whether the “institutionalization of the church, the colonializing of the calling of Jesus, the growth of numeric Christianity, really was the providence of God or actually an extremely long detour from our true mission.”[4] We struggle with the reality that the institutional Church as we know it needs to die: the Church’s alignment with secular power since the 4th century has caused us all too often to legitimise the social misuse of power, and the Church rightly finds itself called-out for aiding and abetting colonialism and other forms of social, economic and political abuses of power and the related discrimination, othering, and exclusion of the poor from our structures.
I speak here more generally of the Church, not necessarily our particular community or local experience of Church. However, even as Anglicans in Southern Africa and as members of the local Church in Newlands, we need to be awake to our times and open to hearing the challenge of today’s Gospel passage, to commit to “hold hands with humility” and not to “partner with power”.[5] We need to rediscover the courage to ensure our lives and faith are aligned with the Gospel imperative to love. If our faith is to engender hope in ourselves and in others it is because we are committed to a sacrificial love, a love that embraces serving others, a love that relinquishes power, a love that is willing to give itself as a ransom for many.[6] While we naturally in such extraordinary times as these seek comfort in and through our faith, that comfort paradoxically is often only found through discomfort as we allow the Spirit of God access to our hearts, minds, and our very beings; as we open ourselves to the purposes and call of God in our own generation; as we embrace the hope offered us in the opening chapter of Mark’s Gospel:
“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”[7]
These words are a reminder that God is present, God is with us, we are not alone. In these times of ongoing difficulty, trauma, hardship and heart-ache God is with us in the chaos. We are called to trust in God’s presence, to be available to God’s purposes, to be open to the leading of God’s Spirit, in our own brokenness to be God’s hands and feet in our world.
In closing, a prayer by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama:
Let us pray,
No comments:
Post a Comment