Knowledge Puffs Up, But Love Builds Up

How do we cure an unclean spirit? Hint: not Tide Pods!

I had a great big smile on my face on Thursday afternoon. You see, I finished my last session on the Diocesan Council. Essentially this body functions as the vestry of the diocese. I loved being on it, but unlike our vestry—which is on retreat this weekend—and then only meets for an hour once a month, the Council meets for six hours each month. This doesn’t include the prep time or the drive down to Birmingham or the drive back to Decatur. Council did teach me so much and I am grateful for my time on it. Perhaps the best bit each month was our Bible study.

In this Bible Study we look at the Gospel lesson for the coming Sunday. So on Thursday we looked at this passage from Mark’s Gospel account. I always hear several astute points and it’s great fun reading Scripture with the bishop, clergy, and lay leaders from all over the state. Someone I greatly admire pointed out that this morning’s passage is all about Jesus’ authority and his authentic identity—who he is as the Son of God. “Yes!” I thought, but then the person continued, that it’s best to leave the demon off to the side… Wait, what? How can we ignore this critical part of the story?

What do you think of demons? Do they exist? This is the Episcopal Church. We often hold up the image of a three-legged stool based upon Richard Hooker’s theology. The crucial tenants are Scripture, Tradition, and REASON. REASONable persons cannot believe in demons can they? What are demons anyway? Are they mental illness? That seems too simplistic. Are they creatures with horns and pointy ears? That seems too hokey. So what are they? Some describe them as forces of evil that oppose the will of God. Evil forces that oppose the will of God does not sound all that far-fetched.

If we look more closely at today’s lesson though we do not see any demons, we merely see a man with an unclean spirit. This begs several questions, “What is an unclean spirit?” “Is it like a demon?” “How does one spirit get unclean?” “Or, how might the evil force make someone unclean?” Perhaps more importantly we may wonder if one’s spirit is unclean how does one make it clean again? We cannot drop off our souls at the dry cleaners and return in three days to find it fresh and new. Maybe an unclean spirit is why all these crazy people on YouTube have been eating Tide detergent Pods. All joking aside, how does one clean one’s unclean spirit? This story helps us to understand that it is through Jesus’ authentic authority that this man with the unclean spirit was made well.

Authority can be a tricky thing. Have you ever had a bad boss? Now listen, I have a great boss. If you leave here saying one thing please say (to Evan) Seth says he has a great boss! But, in the past I have had a few tough bosses. Mostly what I notice as I look back at them is that I couldn’t take serious their authority. It felt like it was not real. They might point to the rules or the trappings of the office, but they did not have it within them. This story has some of those types of bosses too.

In the synagogue—the gathered body of the faithful people—there were some scribes who did not live with true authority. They were good folk, but they did not have authority. They pointed to the law, they used an extrinsic force to prove people right or wrong, clean or unclean, but they lacked internal power and did not bring the law to life and fulfillment like Jesus. When the man with the unclean spirit came in their midst they probably pointed out why he was unclean, instead of seeking to find healing for him. Jesus though lived differently.

The difference between the scribes and Jesus was obvious to those in the synagogue. They exclaimed that Jesus taught with authority, but his authority was not simply smoke and mirrors. The section from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians sums this up well, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” Jesus could have used knowledge to run circles around others familiar with the Law, and yet he yearned not for winning arguments but for winning hearts. He had compassion on the man who was suffering and through love brought him to healing. This is how the unclean becomes clean through love.

So, do you believe in demons? Do they exist? If they are not creepy characters and are truly forces of evil that oppose the will of God, then I have to tell you they are real! We do not have to look far afield to find them either. Thumbing through the news this week we find evil all over: a gymnastics trainer who abused over 150 girls, terrorist organizations racking up higher and higher death tolls, and environmental degradation leading to catastrophic water shortages just to name three. What are we to do in the face of these evil forces?

While knowledge is crucial for us to bring about positive change in this world, we must not rely upon it alone to oppose the forces of evil. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Instead of trying to win fights by using more knowledge to prove others wrong, when we see those evil forces all around us we are called to fight evil with love. This is the way that we will destroy these forces that oppose God—not by winning enough debates, but by loving those with whom we disagree. Jesus brought healing through his authentic authority as the Son of God. He did this through love. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up, and for that thanks be to God.

Authority

Jesus healing the man with the unclean spirit in the synagogue at Capernaum.

Often the theme of a Gospel lesson will so jump off the page that a preacher need only to politely step out of the way, so that the power of Jesus’ words and actions may fully impact the congregation. Like a two foot putt for birdie, a point-blank shot on a goalie-less goal, or a simple one-yard touchdown pass this opportunity may seem too easy to mess up. However, let me assure you that I can (and often do) mess up this simplest of tasks. With this warning in mind, let us take a look at this coming Sunday’s Gospel lesson.

The theme that leaps eagerly off the page in Mark 1:21-28 is Jesus’ authority. In particular Jesus compels listeners and even unclean spirits with merely his words. Jesus’ preaching and exorcism points to the power vested within him. As the synagogue-goers put it, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him” (1:27). The gimme sermon here would outline how Jesus’ authority differs from others, and even now how his power, healing, and dominion still compel all realms of existence. Of course, sometimes preachers (like me) miss the easy sermon going in search of something much more complicated. So what other sermons might flow from this passage?

Early evidence – The first two-thirds of Mark’s Gospel provide an adrenaline rush for the reader. One event bleeds immediately into the next. Not only this, but also one story may in fact be commentary on another. Jesus’ Baptism leads quickly to his temptation in the wilderness, then Jesus inaugurates his public ministry with a message of repentance, which quickly turns into his calling of Simon, Andrew, James, and John as his first disciples. Through God's calling Jesus overcomes temptation and he begins his own ministry by calling others to take part in what he has undergone! The disciple's first taste of Jesus’ leadership comes in the synagogue teaching and encounter with the unclean spirit. For those who had just left the safety and security of home and work this authoritative action in the synagogue would be early evidence of what the reader knows from the very beginning of Mark’s telling of the Good News: Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. A preacher could build the case with this early evidence that Jesus truly is the Son of God.

Unclean spirit(s)? – The narrator describes the man in the synagogue as having an unclean spirit, but the way the spirit talks points to something different. As Jesus approached the man, the spirit cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God” (1:24 italics added for emphasis). Is more than one spirit present? Perhaps. Another way of seeing this might provide for a fruitful sermon. The unclean spirit and the man have become so interwoven that the spirit speaks in the personal plural form for it and the man. Does Jesus have the power to cast out the spirit without the man being harmed? Yes! How are the unhealthy parts of ourselves called to be cast out? What part of us does Jesus yearn to heal? These are worthwhile questions to pursue if a sermon on healing attracts the preacher.

The healing power of silence – One could also focus on how Jesus rebukes the spirit. Was it by force? Speaking in tongues? Angels with the weapons of heaven? Nope! Through his words Jesus invokes the power of silence. Jesus commands the spirit to be silent and come out of the man. Sure, the spirit causes the man to cry out in a loud voice; however, the healing happens. Plus, the result of the crowds could have very well been a stunned silence in the synagogue before everyone began losing their minds over what Jesus did. A sermon on the profundity of silence could arise from the way through which Jesus healed this man.

Authority 2.0 – Although perhaps the most obvious path to approach Jesus’ healing in the synagogue hones in on the two mentions of his authority (in comparison with the scribes and as a result of his healing of the man with the unclean spirit), but a more robust sermon might engage asking the question, "From where does this authority really emerge?" How do we see people in positions of authority today—especially thinking that the world is becoming more and more wary of traditional seats of authority (government, religion, and other institutions)? How does Jesus’ authority speak for itself? In what ways does Jesus claim authority in our lives? These are just a few questions that I am pondering this week as I feel drawn into exploring how God’s authority resists coercion and instead compels us through healing and transformation.

While this week’s text (like many in Mark) appears straightforward, the preacher has multiple opportunities to walk faithfully on a path that illuminates this early example of Jesus’ authority as the Son of God.

Think Inside The Box

Sometimes it is thinking inside the box that changes the world!

On Sunday morning in our articles class we read a piece from The New York Times written by David Brooks entitled, “How Would Jesus Drive?” Pope Francis’ New Year’s Eve address inspired the column. While I found the piece humorous, what sticks with me stems from Brooks’ channeling of the papal invitation to be “artisans of the good,” who look for ways every day to enact small actions of kindness. Sometimes though, when we gather here on Tuesdays or Wednesdays to celebrate Holy Communion we may miss this invitation.

Our midweek Eucharistic feasts so often center around the lives of those holy ones who have reflected the light of Christ within their own day. Even though we do our best to remember that these folks are just like you and me, we just as readily put “saints” up on a pedestal. In all honesty, many of the people we remember have done remarkable—nearly impossible—things that I could never do on my own. Each holy woman and each holy man we recall though would—most likely—point (quickly) away from their own lives and towards the life of Christ. Still, I find that on the whole we do a miserable job of truly believing that the people in The Great Cloud of Witnesses and Lesser Feasts and Fasts do not walk a few feet off the ground. Today’s Gospel lesson and the person whom the Church celebrates help me to demystify the aura of sainthood, such that I might see how powerful small acts can be.

Julia Chester Emery served as National Secretary of the Women's Auxiliary of the Board of Missions for forty years in the late 1800s and early 1900s. This notable office took her to every Episcopal Diocese and many parts of the Anglican world abroad. While we might think this lengthy tenure raises her stature to some overly lofty level, I find that what stands out about Emery’s life comes in that she was not lording her position over others. Instead, Emery used that office as an opportunity to serve. She modeled her own ministry after that of a humble servant not worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of another’s sandal. But, even more than her faithful service was a small profound gift that she gave the Church that we still celebrate to this day.

Often in the world we tell people who want to do something grand to think outside the box, but Julia Chester Emery thought inside the box, so that she might change the way women in the Church affect Jesus’ mission and ministry in this world. Emery creatively envisioned the United Thank Offering (UTO). As you may know twice a year we celebrate an UTO ingathering in which we collect little cardboard boxes. At first Emery gave this out to the Episcopal Church Women as a way to create more funds for mission, but even more than that as a way to practice gratitude on a daily basis.

Emery gifted us through the UTO ingathering an opportunity to practice gratitude on a daily basis. She encouraged her members in the Auxiliary to put a few coins into their cardboard boxes anytime they felt thankful for something. I would extend this small gesture a little further. In this practice we are invited on a daily basis to pause—maybe at the dinner table or when we are getting ready for bed—to take a moment to count our blessings. One of my mentors, the Rev. Annwn Myers put it this way, “As we remember our own blessings, those blessings turn into someone else’s blessings!” God’s reign works in this way, doesn’t it?

The way that Jesus showed through his life leads us into an abundance that overwhelms us. As we begin by counting our blessings and practicing gratitude what we find may be truly life-changing. Julia Chester Emery models for us that we do not need to be Jesus, resurrect the dead, turn water into wine, feed the masses from nothing, or perform miracles. No, as Pope Francis reminded the Christian world at the end of last year, we are called to be artisans of the good who find small ways to be kind. In this season after Epiphany when we receive the light of Christ God calls us to perform small acts of bearing the light with others. We may do this in countless ways: being a good driver, going out of our way to serve someone else, treating an irritating person with kindness, seeing in another the shining beam of Christ’s love, or taking time out to count our blessings, so that they may overflow into other’s lives.

On the Edge

What a joy to welcome John Theodore Olson as a new member in Christ's Body!

The Readings which inspired this sermon were:

• Genesis 1:1-5
• Acts 19:1-7
• Mark 1:4-11
• Psalm 29

If one does not proceed with caution during this time of year, one might develop a severe case of John the Baptist fatigue. Since the start of December we have heard almost every Sunday morning about this unique forerunner to Jesus. What he wore and what he ate stick in our minds like an article from People magazine detailing a celebrity party. The baptizer donned a custom camel’s hair suit fitted with a vintage leather belt. He noshed on a minimalist paleo diet of free range locusts and organic wild honey.  When we hear the story so often we tune out what is going on and just as importantly we tune out where it is happening.

John the Baptizer appeared in the wilderness. The specific location of that wilderness matters immensely. John baptized those from town and country at the River Jordan. Now, this seemingly mundane detail about the location of John’s baptizing could appear too common to be noteworthy, but in Mark—the briefest of the Gospel accounts—nothing is superfluous data.

Meaning overflows from the Jordan. In particular, this was the border between the barren wilderness and the rich land of milk and honey, promised of old to God’s People. As we remember this story today, we stand on the edge of these same waters, the edge of this border, and the edge between what was promised and what will be fulfilled. We do not stand alone—no, we are here with John and Jesus and all those who came and still come in search of something that cannot be found in the established religion of the day. That is why so many went out to John, isn’t it? To search for something new and fresh and real. What is it precisely though that we are doing here at the edge of these baptismal waters?

We who may love our church and our traditions, what are we doing? The lessons from today lead us toward an answer. Genesis describes the Spirit’s moving over the waters ever since the beginning of Creation. Our Psalm for today celebrates God’s voice upon the waters. The portion we heard from the Acts of the Apostles depicts some followers of John receiving the Spirit in the waters of baptism when Paul ministered in Ephesus. In each of these we find something earthly linked with something that lies beyond the worldly—the sacred mingling with the secular, the divine in the everyday. Of course, the Gospel lesson from Mark most fully exemplifies this: “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.” Is this why we’re here? To catch a glimpse of God through a thin place? What was really happening with Jesus in that river?

For a long time the Church has argued about whether Jesus “needed” to be baptized by John. Mark’s telling of the story runs somewhat at odds with the others. Matthew tells it as though John would not baptize the one coming after him. Luke does the same. The Fourth Gospel account (the Evangelist John) supposes that Jesus’ baptism happened, but does not describe the event. Here in Mark’s narrative though things appear simpler. After John proclaims his message as the forerunner of the Messiah, Jesus appears to be baptized. Did he need it? Was he with sin before? Was he trying to fit in with the rest of humanity? As frustrating as it is, the text remains silent on these issues. More importantly though, we find something transformative happening as we watch from the edge of the River Jordan.

When Jesus emerged from the murky river a voice declared from heaven, “You are my Son, the beloved; with you I am well pleased.” The holy cut into a simple ritual out on the edge between the civilized and the uncivilized, between what was promised and what will be fulfilled, between what had been and what was to come. God entered into the lives of human beings as they grasped at a new way of approaching their lives. For regardless of what we make of Jesus’ decision to be baptized, the others out in the wilderness around the Jordan were searching for an amendment of life. The message John preached that attracted so many focused upon turning back to God—repenting or refocusing upon the Holy One. This too brings us to the holy waters over which the Spirit still moves.

This morning, John Theodore Olson will be baptized—yes, we related. For many of us raised in the South, this moment collapses upon only one faucet, the aforementioned forgiveness of sins. While I am partial to my son Teddy, I know that he will not be immune to iniquity. He is after all a preacher’s kid—and all of us at some point go astray. But, if one merely believes that baptism is about eternal fire insurance—that is not going to hell—then one has sorely missed what is at the heart of these lessons and what is at heart of God’s love for us.

When Teddy, or anyone else, undergoes the holy gift, the holy sacrament that is Holy Baptism the baptized are forgiven their sins, but something else happens too. When through Christ we celebrate baptism we hear God’s voice adopting the baptized as a beloved child. Yes, there is a turning that presupposes the voice; however, God does not utter from heaven, “Your sins are forgiven.” No, God says, “This is my beloved, in you I am well pleased.” The lesson from the Acts of the Apostles illuminates this truth in a specific manner.

Those in Ephesus got the baptism of repentance from John the Baptizer, but somehow they missed the crucial second step in the process. They had not been baptized with the Holy Spirit. They were ones who had been baptized by the water, but they had avoided somehow the Spirit and the spiritual fire that accompany baptism through Christ. In other words, they had only been focusing on the forgiveness of sins, but they did not hear their rightful calling through Christ. They had not heard the words that God speaks to all of God’s Children, “You are my beloved, with you I am well pleased.”

Some of us too might have missed the Holy Spirit. Like those in Ephesus we might have solely aimed at amending our lives that we did not get the full power of baptism. The gift of initiating and engrafting a new member into the Body of Christ shines both in the freedom that comes with forgiveness and also in the transforming fire from the Spirit. The Holy Spirit gifted those disciples in Ephesus long ago with the abilities of tongues and prophesy—Teddy already has the gift of tongues, as his morning babbling has exemplified. What gifts will the Holy Spirit impart on Teddy in this moment? How will Christ’s Spirit transform us as we welcome this new member? In what ways does the Spirit gift us?

For us to focus only on the forgiveness of sins in this moment of Holy Baptism is to miss half of the Spirit’s powerful gifting. In Baptism the Holy Spirit brings profound, marvelous, world-transforming abilities—how will we receive them? How will you be transformed as you hear God saying to you, “You are my beloved, with you I am well pleased.”?