Caution: disciples at work

Every three years those of us who follow the Revised Common Lectionary will listen again to an unremarkable passage from the gospel of Mark, chapter 6.  It begins with tired and hungry disciples, completely skips over the miraculous feeding of the 5000 and Jesus walking on water, and concludes with Jesus healing all the people swarming around him.

I call it unremarkable because we usually get a good miracle, a pithy teaching, even an obscure exorcism.  With this selection of scripture we get ordinary, plain vanilla healing.  Ho hum.

But of course to those folks who live on the fringe of society, touching the fringe of Jesus' garment and experiencing the healing power of the Lord of Life was anything but Ho Hum.  It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  It was their own particular miracle, their own particular encounter with the power of the Living God. All it took was Jesus delaying his time away; pausing to teach and to walk among them, allowing them to reach out and experience the powerful presence of God in their midst.

I wonder, however, where we are in this story?  What is God's message to us in this peculiar cut and paste of Mark's gospel?  What are we supposed to do with this?

Here is one possibility.  When I was learning how to bake bread from my mother, we got to the part called 'kneeding the dough'.  It's an important step and it takes practice. My mother tipped the dough onto the generously floured surface, sprinkled flour over the top of the dough and said, "You do it like this."  After a couple turns of the dough, she put her hands on mine and we pushed and pulled and turned together until I got a rhythm.  Then I was on my own.

Later in the story Jesus will tell his disciples to care for his sheep.  Today he gave them a lesson on what that looks like.  As he walked among the needy and desperate you can almost hear him say, "You do it like this."

As followers of Jesus, we walk among our neighbors and bring with us the powerful presence of our Lord. Right?

The hard work of compassion

"As Jesus went ashore he saw a great crowd and he had compassion on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd" Mark 6.34


No matter where Jesus went, there they were.  People flocked to him, pressing upon him and trying to get just a touch, just a word, maybe a crust of bread, maybe a miracle.  It was enough to wear a person out.

Yet, Jesus saw the great crowd and had compassion for them, and in spite of his hunger and fatigue, he began to teach, to touch, to heal.  You can picture Jesus walking among the demanding crowds, like a shepherd walking in the midst of his milling flock of sheep: the sheep crying out in their confusion turning this way and that, packed together for a sense of security.  There is Jesus in the midst of them, within an arm's reach, working the crowd for the sake of the Divine Creator.

Compassion requires up close and personal commitment.  The word itself means 'to suffer with' and 'suffering with' cannot be done from afar.  Compassion doesn't ignore or circumvent or even turn a blind eye to the suffering before them.  Compassion walks into the crowd, staying within arms' length, hearing and smelling the needs of others.

God's great act of compassion was to be present among us in Jesus.  Thus is the power of the incarnation = God taking on human flesh.  In Jesus, God walked among us, within arms' reach, up close and personal.  This was no virtual reality; Jesus was no hologram.  As we suffered so suffered Jesus; as we die, so Jesus died.  Compassion - to suffer with another.

Mark records no special miracle performed that day, but of course, having the Savior of the Cosmos within arms' length comes amazingly close.

Living on the fringe

They stand on the edge, looking over the heads of others, seeing their goal in the distance. 

They are not the majority, although they are often silent.  Pressed to the outside, on the fringe of the norm, their job pays not quite enough, their skin is too brown, their accent is off-putting, their body is misshapen.  They are the trailers on the classic bell curve, and they have little hope of ever making it to the top of the hill, to stand among the accepted and acceptable, those who don’t have to worry about living on the fringe. 

Some are anonymous – the older couple who don’t qualify for Social Security, whose health is sinking and whose mortgage has another 5 years.  The teen whose sexual reality doesn’t conform.  The father of 3 who never eats lunch otherwise his children won’t eat supper.  Some are instantly recognizable.  They wander the streets, they know the locale of every free meal in the city, they live on that street where fleas and cockroaches and violence are common.  

But they are all living on the fringe.  They live in a world of hurt where dreams have a very short shelf life and hope is a rare commodity.  They trust the promises being made by charlatan and politician and that charismatic preacher on the street.  They trust because in the end, something is better than nothing….…which is probably why those people mobbed Jesus wherever he went.  What is a 5 mile walk when, at the other end you just might be healed, you just might be fed, you just might find a bit of respite?

All they needed was to touch the fringe of his garment; whatever his power, whatever its source it could come to them through the fringe of his prayer shawl.  Maybe, just this one time, someone on the fringe could be healed by the fringe of this unknown teacher.

Just maybe.  It was worth a try.  Reaching, stretching, hoping, needing.  

What about you?  Bring back any memories?

Mark 6.30-34, 53-56

Feasting on power

In the end, Mark's story is about Jesus.  A good author could probably explain the reason this story about John the Baptist is so effective in unveiling Jesus' real identity, however it is good to remember that in the end, this is a story about Jesus.

And power.

Even with all his great power, Herod couldn’t silence the preacher named John who was not afraid to speak out against wrong. Herod knew that John was right, and he feared him as a holy and righteous man, but John was a problem.  First, Herod had him imprisoned.  Next, Herod served John up on a platter. In the end, Herod's own (infrequently used) conscience told him he was wrong, on all counts.  Herod's feast led to him feasting on his own evil and ego.

That is how power deals with uncomfortable or inconvenient truth.  It squashes the opposition, jails the journalists, martyrs the activists, and insists on its own (alternate) reality.  Or it grounds the teenager, turns a deaf ear to the spouse, fires the employee, labels the woman, shoots the black man.

Meanwhile, Jesus was feeding people on bread and the Word of God.  There was no power to equal the power of Jesus, the man teaching and healing in the streets and breaking bread on the hillside.  In a short time, Jesus would be on the top of another hillside feeding the world on his own body and blood.

Herod was feasting on power.  Herod would never be satisfied.  

Jesus feasted on love and had twelve baskets of leftovers.   That's who Jesus is.

Mark 6.14-29

Fear and Power

Fear and Power.

The story told in the 6th chapter of Mark begins with the dilemma of who Jesus really and truly was. People just didn't know what to do with all the stories they had heard, and possibly even the healings and miraculous feedings they had observed. Who is this man of Nazareth called Jesus?    'Some say Elijah or one of the prophets of old,' we are told.  

But Herod was sure it was John the Baptist, raised from the dead.  And Herod was afraid.  The big guy was afraid.  So much power, so much fear.

You see, for a man with so much power, Herod spent a great deal of energy being afraid.  He was afraid that one of his sons would gain too much power and overthrow him (so he had them killed).  He was afraid that Rome would throw him out of office.  He was afraid that John the Baptist was preaching the truth about his marriage/morality and folks would listen to him, a rebellion would break out and undermine his power. He was afraid that John the Baptist was, in fact, a prophet (for Herod recognized him as a holy and righteous man) and there might be cosmic consequences for his actions. I believe in some corner of Herod's heart (a corner he apparently assiduously ignored) Herod was afraid of God.

It all started at a lavish banquet complete with a dancing girl where Herod was afraid of looking weak in front of his rich acquaintances at his birthday feast. I imagine a large quantity of alcohol in an atmosphere of seduction led to his foolish promise, but now, Herod is haunted by that night.  'I will give you whatever you ask even to half of my kingdom" he promised.  She wanted John's head.  On a platter.

This is a young girl who will soon be married off to whomever pleases her parents.  In most situations, she is counted among the powerless.  But not that night.  That night she had Herod right where she (or probably more accurately, her mother) wanted him.  She was powerful because Herod was afraid.

Fear and Power.  Power and fear.  Did I mention they go together like hand in glove?

Mark 6.14-29

Power and fear

Seems they go together like hand in glove.  Power generates fear; fear gives space for power.

I mention this because the story of Jesus of Nazareth should never be read in a vacuum.  Jesus, like his cousin John before him, lived, worked, taught, preached in an atmosphere of fear thanks to the power of the ruling Roman Empire.  Remember always to read those sweet Sunday School Bible stories with a fully armed and underpaid Roman Soldier standing at your shoulder.

(As an aside, consider the long list of potential sources of power:  political, economic, gender, race, military, public reputation, sexual, even, my friends, religious.  There are many empires with power over our comings and goings.)

I mention this because this week John the Baptist loses his head.  Actually it had happened in a previous episode and we are getting a flashback from Herod, but this is the point in the gospel story according to Mark that we actually learn about it.

Some will say that John lost his head even before that terrible moment in the castle dungeon.  He insisted on calling Herod out on his ill-advised marriage to his brother's (I assume she is now his ex) wife.  Herod prided himself on his Jewish connections and the Torah is clear about this particular situation; you can not marry your brother's wife.  Simple as that.

John kept pointing this out.  Publicly. Embarrassing?  Annoying for sure.  Particularly since Herod recognized John as a holy and righteous man, and thought a conversation with John might do him some good.  So he arrested him which accomplished two things:  no more public pronouncements about Herod's morality and Herod could always find John for a quiet conversation any time of day or night

When you think about it, it's a pretty strange situation.  On the face of it, John had no power over Herod at all and yet Herod hesitated to silence John because he feared ......what?  Public backlash? His own conscience?  God?

This powerful and brutal man hesitated because of a still, small voice?

Hmmm.  Power and fear lead us to do curious things.


Mark 6.14-29