Who do you say that I am? - Redeemer Episcopal Church

 Mark 8:27-38

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, "Who do people say that I am?" And they answered him, "John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, "But who do you say that I am?" Peter answered him, "You are the Messiah." And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him. 

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." ³⁴ He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 

For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels."

God of teaching and truth, let us understand Jesus, not as the Messiah we want, but as the Messiah we need in this broken world. And let us and our work be defined by his own sacrifice. Amen. 

This is the first week in many weeks that Jesus is not performing miracles or talking about himself as the Bread of Life. Wow does it feel good to be on this side of that narrative. Finally, we have arrived at one the most important and well-known exchanges between Jesus and the disciples. 

They are on the road again— this time not trying to run away from the crowds or find a place to rest, but on their way to Jerusalem. This narrative of walking and talking serves as an interlude between Jesus’ public ministry and Jesus preparing the disciples for his impending death.   And it’s on the road, on the way, that Jesus asks the disciples “who do people say that I am?” 

As we have moved through Mark’s gospel in this season, we have seen Jesus feed thousands of people with very little food, heal a woman’s daughter without even touching her, and eventually open a man’s ears and release his tongue to that he might hear and speak. These last few weeks, we have seen Jesus perform more miracles and be followed by a larger and large crowd. 

So it is no surprise that people would have begun talking about him. The whispers have started that perhaps he is someone other than just the carpenter’s son. "John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.”

But Jesus wants the disciples’ perspective. They are the ones who have been alongside him all this time. They must have their own assumptions and theories about who he really is. So Peter steps up and makes his declaration of faith: "You are the Messiah.” 

Now if we understand faith, it is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). Peter is speaking, not only of what he has witnessed while following Jesus from town to town, but he is speaking his hope for Jesus. He believes Jesus is the Messiah because he WANTS Jesus to be the Messiah. 

Silently confirming the truth of what Peter has said, Jesus instructs them not to tell anyone who he is. 

Then Jesus tells them that the time has come for the son of Man to undergo great suffering, be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, the scribes, and be killed.  

 

But for Peter, there is a drastic disconnect between his naming of Jesus as the Messiah, and Jesus’ actual reign as the Messiah.  Peter can not reconcile who he thinks and says Jesus is with the actions and impending future that Jesus has laid out before them.

 

For Peter and the Jewish tradition of his day, Messiah was an anointed king, a ruler in the line of David that would come to reign over Israel.  He would restore Israel from the Gentiles. He would reclaim their independence and glory as God’s chosen people. He would overcome adversaries and oppressors.  He would rule like no king before. For the Jewish people, this is what they longed for. This is how they interpreted the prophets. And for Peter, Jesus was the hoped-for Messiah.   Challenging authority, leading with confidence and power, teaching and healing in the name of God. So, of course, Peter imagined that Jesus would lead them into a great battle and restore all of Israel to the Jewish people.

 

But the problem is that that’s not what Jesus has told them would happen.

 

Peter confidently declares Christ as Messiah, yet his naming is selfish.  It’s rooted in his own understanding, his own hope and expectation. Jesus, you’re our Messiah, long awaited, and our expected Messiah is what you are and will be for us.

 

Peter certainly isn’t the first, nor the last person to define Jesus from his own perspective, hope, and expectation.  For as long as Christ has been proclaimed, the world has found a way to pigeonhole, define, limit, manipulate, or interpret the proclamation of the gospel to best suit their personal need, agenda, or hope.  For centuries, the name of Christ, the Messiah, the son of God, has been confidently, yet falsely proclaimed to attack, defend, or justify human ambition and action. Human things. And when Christ is interpreted and proclaimed out of personal pride, preference, or perspective, then we abuse both the power and humility of the gospel message.  

Peter’s hopes for a Messiah aren’t drastically different than our own.

 

But the word of warning in today’s Gospel is that Jesus, the Messiah, the son of God and son of man will break all of the disciples expectations and even our own. We don’t get to define Christ according to our own expectations, even in our best of intentions.

 

Rather we are defined by Christ.  We live, move, and have our very being by grace in Jesus, the son of man, the son of God, the Messiah.  And our Messiah is one who exceeds all expectations, leading with humility and grace. Jesus will restore, redeem, and set free, but he’ll do so in the most contrary way to the world’s expectations. Rather than lead with force, and power, conquering adversaries and punishing the oppressors. Jesus will willingly and knowingly undergo suffering. He’ll be rejected with humility and grace. He’ll give up his life for the sake of the world.  So all people might have life and life abundant.

This is our Messiah.  And if we ever hope to faithfully proclaim and worship Jesus as our true Messiah, then our call is to follow Jesus.  To lay down our life, and inward, selfish ambition, expectation, or hope, and follow. We must form our lives not for ourselves or our own greed and expectations, but for one another, for the whole world, and for all of creation. If we only proclaim Jesus as the true Messiah without understand exactly what being the Messiah means: a humble servant, who is willing to carry the cross and die upon it… then being his followers is all for nothing. Unless we form ourselves to his example and take up own own cross, then we can never truly to his disciples. 

…

 

Who do we say Jesus is?  Make no mistake my friends, this is a question that the world is asking even today, and the world is groaning for an answer that is faithful.  Who do you say that Jesus is? What is our response? Is it simply enough to say, “He is the Messiah”? Or will our expectations get in the way?  

 

Some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, some prophet.

 

Who do you say Jesus is?

Some the Messiah, a king of kings, a mighty ruler. Some say the son of man and son of God.  Some say Lord, healer, and teacher.  Some say redeemer.

 

But perhaps the most powerful answer of all might be, “come, let me show you…” as we humble ourselves to love for our neighbors. 

Amen.

Worship as Self-Care and Community-Care - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Mark 6:30-34, 53-56

Feeding the Five Thousand

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognized them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognized him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the marketplaces, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.

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This sermon was originally preached by me, to a certain people in a certain time and place, but we believe in the power of the Spirit, so it might touch you as well. 

It is GOOD to be back with you all. The last eight weeks or so have been wonderful for our family as it expanded and I am so grateful for the time that we were able to spend together in our little bubble as we got to know our daughter. 

AND it was HARD. Of course, we have a newborn again and that comes with all sorts of challenges and exhaustion, but one of the hardest parts for me was that I do not rest well. I am not someone who sits for very long. Even when recovering from childbirth. I’m a busybody— the kind of person who used to make to do lists during church. 

We all know that God has a good sense of humor, which I think is why we heard this text this morning. Of course my first sermon back from parental leave would be about rest— or perhaps about looking for rest. 

Last week we heard about God, who perched on the Ark of Covenant. The people believed that God would come and go as God pleased and that they could provide a resting place for God in their community with a tabernacle and ark. But, as Father Wiley said, we know that God has come to us in the person of Jesus— the God that we worship is incarnate, in flesh and blood— a real living person with whom we can have a relationship. With whom we DO have a relationship. 

In the reading this morning, the apostles were returning from their mission that Jesus had sent them on to go into the towns and cities to heal and to proclaim the coming of the Kingdom of God. When they came back from the towns, the crowds were constantly trying to find them— apparently news had spread quite effectively about Jesus and his band of followers… It was getting so crowded and the people were so desperate to see Jesus that the apostles barely had any time to even eat by themselves. 

“Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” Jesus tells them. But even this didn’t work because people recognized them and got to their resting place first and continued to press in on Jesus and the apostles. Now, if I were one of the apostles, I would be pretty upset by this— they had just traveled all over the country and now they were ready to rest a little bit. They just wanted to eat dinner in peace! That couldn’t be too much to ask. I’d be wanting Jesus to put his foot down and send the crowds away so I could rest a while. 

What we are seeing in this story is not only that the apostles are feeling overworked and overwhelmed by the persistent crowds, but the other side of it is that we see hundreds and even thousands of people who are so desperate for the teachings of Jesus that they follow Jesus and the apostles around all over the country, not even stopping for food for themselves. 

As our world moves back into its rhythm of overwork and go go go, I think we are going to start to feel a similar kind of weariness and maybe even desperation— we might feel a bit like the apostles AND a bit like the crowds all at once. And when that happens, people are going to tell us about what we tend to call “self care” or “rest” as a resistance to this overwork. We’ll hear about how we need to take time for ourselves and care for ourselves. I heard a lot of this during the last eight weeks— I needed to take some time to take care of myself. What they mean most of the time is that I should take a bubble bath or get a massage.

And there is certainly nothing wrong with self-care in the form of things like massages and bubble baths or beach vacations. But the weariness I felt over the last few weeks wasn’t going to be cured by taking a walk or reading a novel. I think the weariness of the past year and a half is going to show us that we need something more than superficial self-care. We are going to find ourselves both just like the apostles— needing “Come away to a deserted place all by ourselves and rest a while”— and also like the crowds— so desperate for Jesus and his teaching and healing that we press in from all sides. 

I loved what Father Wiley said about worship last week— what if our perspective changes and we GOT to go to worship instead of feeling like we HAVE to go to worship? How would that change our experience of God? Worship as a privilege instead of obligation. As someone who grew up very much feeling like worship was just an obligation, I can understand if you’re not quite there yet, if you’re not quite to the point where worship feels like a celebration or a place where we can dance. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I began to feel that myself. But then, I realized, worship is part of my deep-needed spiritual self-care. 

Worship is a privilege and a celebration, but it’s also more than that— it’s the root from which we gain our nourishment, it is absolutely necessary for our life with God. And I’m a campus pastor— I would never ever say that we can only worship God in THIS building. Or even that this building is better fit for worship than anywhere else in the world. BUT… if your life is anything like mine, it does not give many opportunities to sit and rest with God, to be quiet and listen to God’s Word speaking into my life. When people ask me about my spiritual life during the week, I might mention something about reading the Bible when I’m preparing my sermons, but it really is sometimes ONLY Sunday mornings when I take enough time and sit quietly enough to listen to God. 

That is the power of worship in this space. It is within these walls that everything else falls away. It is in this place, and during THIS particular time that we set aside other obligations and, if we allow ourselves, it is here that we come away to rest a while. It’s not that God won’t meet us in other places of our lives, and indeed, God is always present. But here in this place? This is where WE can show up to be attentive to God, this is where we can truly rest and be healed because there is power in these rituals, in the routine of standing and sitting, praying and singing, our worship is embodied just like our God.

My hope for you is that you might feel the desperation of the crowds. That you might ache for his teaching, so much so that you’re willing to sit at his feet hungry, believing that he will provide you will more than enough. I hope that we might know what it means to need Jesus and the healing he provides that we press in close, just to touch the fringe of his cloak. And I hope that you might know that you are invited here— to this place, in this time, to this table, and this community— to be nourished and healed and be taught by our incarnate and ever-compassionate God. Amen. 

God who brings life out of death - Redeemer Episcopal Church

Mark 1:9-15

The Baptism of Jesus

9 In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. 10 And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. 11 And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

The Temptation of Jesus

12 And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. 13 He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

The Beginning of the Galilean Ministry

14 Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, 15 and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

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This sermon was originally preached in a specific place with a specific people in a specific time, but we believe in a God who transcends time and space, so I hope that this word might speak to you as well. You can read the manuscript below, or you can listen to the sermon (and see it preached with infusions from the Spirit) by finding it within our worship service video at this link. 

God of life, be with us this morning as we are reminded of Jesus’ journey from baptism, through the wilderness, and into the work of bringing about the Kingdom of God. Amen. 

A couple of weeks ago, Father Wiley talked about the language in Mark’s gospel. It is fast-paced and no-nonsense. It moves so rapidly from one scene to the next that if you’re not paying attention you might miss something important. Compared to the other gospel accounts, there is barely any detail at all and it feels like time is moving super quickly. 

In this pandemic, I have noticed that it has felt like time has kind of morphed into nothingness. On a good day, I know what day of the week it is. On a bad day, I forget the month. Perhaps some of you feel this way too. 

Maybe it’s because we are almost exactly a year out from when the news first broke about this pandemic and we began hunkering down and cancelling things. It seems that time has both compressed and expanded at the same time. 

That is what Mark’s gospel reading feels like this morning. It is quick and has very little detail. There is no long, drawn out description of Jesus’ baptism, no wild narrative of the temptation in the wilderness. We just get these events in rapid succession. 

I think part of the reason is because, for Mark, these are just markers in time. One sentence marks the proclamation of Jesus’ identity. And the next marks the beginning of Jesus’ formation within that identity. Mark doesn’t dwell on any of this because the real story here is that Jesus has work to do in the world! 

As we enter, perhaps timidly, into the season of Lent, we see that Jesus is thrust into the wilderness. We see that everything moves quickly and wildly, from one scene to the next. It feels so much how we are living today— being thrown into the next season of life and liturgy before we have even processed the last. 

But that is the way that time works. I’m reminded often that the older I get, the faster time moves.  And we see Mark employing these rapid pace because baptism is not the end of the story for Jesus. It is not the finish line where he receives his glory— it is only the beginning of what will come. Jesus’ baptism is where he claims his identity and is claimed by God, the very beginning of his formation as God’s child. 

After this, Jesus is thrown into the wilderness, tempted, formed, reformed, and then brought back from the wilderness for his work in the world— the healing, touching, speaking, teaching, loving, invitation— that he will extend to the ends of the earth. The work of the coming of the Kingdom of God. 

The same is true for us in our own baptism. Whether we were baptized as babies, children, or later in our lives, our baptism is only the beginning of our journey with God. Baptism is the first part— an important, vital part— where God says, “yes, this is my child, and no one can name this child anything differently than my beloved.” And then…. And THEN we begin to live into that identity, being thrown into the wilderness of formation, and reformation, questioning, doubt, and new faith. And then we are thrust into the world to participate in the coming of the kingdom of God, with the new knowledge of what it means to be God’s children in the world. 

This morning we also heard the beginning of God’s promise to God’s people after the flood in Genesis. What looks like death for the entire world is actually new life for Noah and his family. The promise of God after the destruction of creation is not the END of God’s relationship with the world, it is the beginning of a new covenant. It is the beginning of a new relationship that will be marked by flourishing and abundance instead of scarcity and rebellion. 

This pattern continues in worship. The confession, the lament we cried out in the Great Litany is not the end of our liturgy, but the beginning of God’s promise to us. God promises to hear us and forgive us each time we come before the alter with our confessions and our laments. Each week, there is a part of our liturgy that we do just that— and then God welcomes us into a new relationship in the body and blood of Christ Jesus at this table. 

And again, it is the same with Ash Wednesday, where we were reminded that we come from the dust and that we will return to the dust. Being reminded of death seems like it would be an ending, but not for our God. God does incredible things with death. 

No, Ash Wednesday is not the end of our season for renewal and growth, but the beginning. God looks at our mortality and says, “I can do something beautiful with that.” And we smear ash on our foreheads, almost as a mockery to death that lingers so near, God only begins working in this season. No, God says, you have no power over my children because they have been claimed by me who bring life out of death. 

We’ll see it as we move through this season of Lent. Whether it flies by or drags along, seemingly endlessly… or whether time continues to contract and expand in incomprehensible ways like it has all year… we will see that God brings life out of death. We will see that this darkness, this wilderness, is only the beginning of what God has in store for God’s people. 

Because God is in the business of bringing about the Kingdom— and the Kingdom of God is full of life, abundance, and flourishing— and death cannot stop it. Despite the start of this season when we come face to face with the darkness, wilderness, and even death— we know, truly, that it is not the end. We know what comes next, we know what comes after baptism and being thrust into the wilderness— it is Jesus’ work bringing about the coming of the Kingdom of God. It is the feast, THIS feast. And it is OUR participation in this feast, in this kingdom work. It is life everlasting, coming at us rapidly, wonderfully, in time that is ever expanding and contracting to meet us. Amen. 

Jesus brings shalom

Mark 5:21-43 Teaches Me That Jesus Brings Shalom into a Broken World

Wholeness or shalom is at the heart of Jesus’ healing in this passage.  Jesus heals the physical infirmities of two women and welcomes them back into society.  In Mark’s narrative Jesus’ ministry is centralized around bringing shalom into a world that has been possessed and corrupted by satan.  The brokenness of the world is continually being brought to wholeness through Jesus‘ teaching, healing, and associating with the marginalized.  This passage proves that no matter a person’s wealth or status in society, Jesus is indiscriminately bringing shalom into the entire world.      

The evangelist introduces a woman who has been suffering physically, socially, and financially for twelve years (Mark 5:25).  Her physical infirmity is what the author describes as a continual bleeding (interpreted as a hemorrhage).  This bleeding was also likely to have kept her from having children.  The very essence of being a woman in the first century was cut off from this woman during these twelve years.  The intercalation with the story of the young girl puts an emphasis on this point.  This woman’s brokenness extends further than her physical infirmity.  It also states that the woman is poor, using all of her money seeing physicians who only made her condition worse (5:26).  Despite her poverty, Jesus does not hesitate to speak to her endearingly after she had been healed.  Jesus associates and heals people of all levels of society and wealth.    

The woman’s condition was not only physically injurious, but it likely cut the woman off from society.  The text introduces the woman alone.  Although scholars vary on how much the Jewish purification laws would have influenced the woman’s life, it would have at least kept her from the majority of society and visiting the temple in order to cleanse herself of her impurity.  Throughout Mark’s gospel, Jesus associates with the socially marginalized.  Whether this woman has been completely or partially cut off from society is irrelevant.  She is solitary and desperate enough that she must have the faith to intercede on her own behalf.  The climax of the first healing is a prime example of Jesus’ mercy and power.  Instead of rebuking the woman for touching his garment, Jesus turns in the midst of his journey and tell the woman her faith has healed her.  In one sentence, Jesus praises the woman and welcomes her back into society.  By calling the woman “daughter,” he has brought her into his family and thus back into Jewish society (5:34).  Thus in one episode, the woman is healed and brought back into communion with her peers.  

The healing passage of the hemorrhaging woman falls within the story of Jairus and his dying daughter.  In the first half of Jairus‘ story, the reader learns that Jairus‘ young daughter is ill and close to death (5:23).  Jairus is a wealthy leader of the synagogue who humbles himself before Jesus.  On Jesus‘ way to Jairus‘ house, the characters learn that the young girl has died.  Jesus tells Jairus to have faith and continues to the house anyway in order to raise the young girl from death.  It is at this point in the story that the reader is told that the child is twelve years old, which is old enough to be married and bear children.  By healing the child, Jesus is also giving the girl a chance to bring new life into the world.  When the child is healed, Jesus welcomes her back into communion by instructing her family to give her something to eat (5:43).  As well as proving that the girl is not a phantom, eating together is a common thread that brings people into communion in the miracle stories of the gospels.

The stories of both woman help the church understand that the Kingdom of God, as brought into this world by Jesus Christ, operates by bringing shalom.  The work of the kingdom is not dependent on social status, purity laws, or gender.  God and God’s work is responsive to every need in every situation.  Jesus, through God, has power over earthly powers and cannot be conquered, even by death.   

(Mark thesis from Gospels class, 2014)