Sermon on Mark 9:30-37

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Today’s Gospel reading is the second in a pattern in Markwhere Jesus predicts his death and resurrection, the disciples don’t get it, and then Jesus teaches them more about what it means to follow him.

Last week, we read the first one, and today, we read the second. There’s one more, which we won’t be reading next week, but you’ve probably caught on faster than the disciples.

In today’s story, the disciples were confused, but they didn’t want to ask Jesus any questions. Maybe they didn’t want to get another “Get behind me, Satan!” Maybe they didn’t want to look dumb in front of the other disciples. Maybe they were afraid of the answer Jesus would give them.

One way or another, they got sidetracked. They started arguing about which of them was the greatest.

Yet again, they had profoundly misunderstood Jesus’ mission. He was the Messiah, but his mission was not to defeat the Romans and establish an earthly empire.

Jesus had just described for a second time that he would be handed over to the authorities, killed, and would rise again. That doesn’t sound much like a military victory. That doesn’t sound like someone concerned with “greatness.”

And yet, there the disciples were, trying to one up each other, trying to establish their dominance.

That behavior so often comes from a sense of inferiority, though. We read right before this that the disciples were too scared to admit they didn’t understand what Jesus was saying.

So, they turned to each other to diffuse their discomfort. They put each other down to make themselves feel better for not understanding. They started focusing on the wrong thing.

It’s easy for us to shake our heads and roll our eyes at the clueless disciples.

But all these years later, doesn’t the Church do the same thing?

Congregations see other churches with greater worship attendance, larger Sunday school classes, bigger budgets, and flashier worship bands and start feeling insecure.

So, we start to put down other denominations, disparage larger churches, or voice pity about those poor congregations that are smaller than ours.

Or, we start blaming the culture, making demeaning remarks that entire generations don’t seem to care about church anymore.

In our insecurity, we start striving to prove that we are the greatest. We, like the disciples, start focusing on the wrong things.

It seems fitting that we’re reading this Gospel story on the first day of fall. We’re at the tipping point between seasons, when day and night are equal.

The disciples were at a kind of tipping point, too. They were at a tipping point in their understanding of Jesus.

The Gospel of Mark shows Jesus being pretty secretive. He often tells people not to share about him healing them or instructs his disciples not to tell people who he is. At this point, Jesus starts to reveal more to his disciples. He’s starting to prepare them for what’s to come and entrust them with more understanding of who he is and why he’s here.

But the disciples weren’t getting it. They were projecting their own expectations of Jesus getting earthly power and glory and were missing what he was actually saying.

Last week, he told them that following him involved taking up their crosses and being willing to lose their lives.

This week, he brought over a child and told them that welcoming a child was like welcoming Jesus, and therefore God.

Children were really low on the social scale. They had no power and no status. There’s a reason why the Hebrew Bible so often instructs God’s people to care for widows and orphans. Neither group had people to protect and support them(namely husbands or parents). They had the least power in society.

Jesus was teaching them to focus on who had the least power, not who was the greatest.

How they treated the least was how they treated their beloved rabbi and their God.

They were at a tipping point where they would either keep focusing on obtaining earthly power or start welcoming those who had the least.

And because they were human, sometimes they would get it and sometimes they wouldn’t. Just like us.

God knows we won’t get it right all the time. Sometimes our actions overflow with love for our neighbor. And sometimes, we’re insecure, petty, and selfish. Welcome to being simultaneously saints and sinners.

Our congregation does amazing work loving our neighbors every week through Caring Hands and supporting other organizations. We share our space with other congregations. We check on each other and pray for each other. We learn and worship and laugh and hope.

And sometimes, we too get caught up in insecurity and wondering if we’re enough. We remember times when we had more people in the pews, more pitter-patter of tiny feet, more programs, and a greater capacity to serve. It’s okay and even important to grieve our changing reality.

What we need to be careful of, though, is not letting our grief lead us to despair or to jealousy of other congregations.

Jesus reminds us that whenever two or three are gathered, he is there. And he reminded his disciples in today’s reading that what’s important is not “greatness” by worldly standards, but welcoming those with the least power and support among us. And this congregation’s mission is to do just that.

So, at this turning point in the seasons, let’s make sure we’re focusing on what’s really important.This congregation does that so well—let’s not forget that.Fall is a great time to reorient and refocus.

We’re about three quarters of the way through our Sabbath year—can you believe it?

What have you learned by practicing Sabbath this year?

How has it helped you focus on what’s most important?

I encourage you to share with each other today and in the weeks ahead what Sabbath means to you.

And as we move into this final quarter and round the bend toward Advent, Christmas, and the New Year, how can we continue or adapt our Sabbath practices into the future?

How can we keep our focus on welcoming our least likely neighbors and therefore welcoming God?

At this tipping point in the seasons, let’s let go of despair, insecurity, and striving for “greatness” and focus instead on loving our neighbors as we would welcome Jesus himself, who loves us more than anything.

Now, that is great.

Sermon on Mark 8:27-38

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Our reading from James reminds us of the power of our speech. We can use our mouths to tear down or to build up.

Peter does both in our Gospel reading.

He started off well by answering Jesus correctly: that Jesus is the Messiah.

Messiah (or Christ in Greek) is a title, meaning “anointed one.” Throughout the Hebrew Bible, you can read about God sending prophets to anoint people God has chosen to be king: Saul, David, and so on.

God’s anointed one is a king, a leader who will save God’s people, presumably by defeating their enemies and ushering in a time of peace and prosperity.

In Jesus’ day, God’s people were living under the oppressive Roman Empire. They were taxed heavily, ruled by a foreign power, and under constant threat of violence. It’s understandable that they expected the Messiah, God’s anointed one, to rise up, overthrow the Romans by military force, and establish a new kingdom of strength and might.

Also, when Jesus was asking these questions, he and his disciples were on their way to “the villages of Caesarea Philippi.” This was near a temple built by King Herod, dedicated to Emperor Augustus, whose title of was “Son of the Divine.” It makes sense that Peter and the disciples would have thought Jesus, God’s anointed one, was going to Caesarea Philippito defeat the sacrilegious, oppressive Romans.

So, when Jesus said he was supposed to suffer, be killed, and rise again, that went against everything Peter thought the Messiah would be. So, Peter used his mouth, which had correctly proclaimed Jesus’ identity as the Messiah, to scold Jesus for describing what he would undergo in service of his messianic mission.

But, Peter’s understanding of the Messiah’s mission was different from what Jesus’ mission actually was.

Of course, we know, and Peter would find out,the true form of Jesus’ mission. It was far beyond a political victory, a military triumph, or an earthly empire.

The Reign of God, the Beloved Community, is so much more.

It’s the picture of eternity we see in Revelation—with all the peoples of the world united in singing to God.

It’s the completion of the glimpses we get of the beauty of creation.

It’s the fulfillment of the peace, justice, unity, and joy that we can only dream about on this side of life.

Our human imaginations, though amazingly powerful, are not big enough to capture the fullness of the Beloved Community.

It’s so much bigger than a military victory.

And the people in power would kill Jesus over it.

Jesus was warning his disciples of what was to come and what would be required to endure it. His disciples and all his followers would have to lay down their egos, their dreams of military might, their hopes for glory and power and riches, even their own safety. That is what it means to deny ourselves, take up our crosses, and follow Jesus.

Jesus’ disciples would need to expand their idea of what it meant to be the Messiah.

Jesus and his mission were so much more than they imagined.

But Jesus’ instructions were and are incredibly challenging. They go against our basic instincts as human beings—instincts to protect our reputations, our power, and our very lives.

It’s so counter to what we see and hear in our culture, too. We’re told to “look after #1” and to work hard to make the most money and buy the best things.

We see and hear people protecting their egos by putting others down—from government officials to celebrities to social media. Unless we’re vigilant, that kind of language can trickle into our everyday conversations with friends and neighbors.

We’re surrounded by fearmongering, name-calling, and cynicism.When it’s all around us, it’s hard not to be affected by it.

As our reading from James says, “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire.”Unfortunately, fire has been a too-present reality for Southern California this week. Let’s continue praying for everyone affected.

But the metaphor is vivid. We’re surrounded by words that are often negative and anxiety-inducing—tv, radio, social media, advertisements, political commentary, random people’s opinions about some public figure’s faux pas, hyperbolic predictions of any number of devastating futures…It’s unending and inescapable.

If our reading from James is right and “no one can tame the tongue,” what are we supposed to do?

Maybe silence is the answer, or at least a step toward an answer.

Our society doesn’t tolerate much silence. Our world is full of noise.

What if we stemmed the flow of words washing over us?

What if we turned off the volume on all our devices and closed our eyes, just for a moment?

Maybe in even a moment of silence, we could hear the still, small voice of God.

Just three weeks ago, we heard Peter say that Jesus has “the words of eternal life.”[1] Yet, so often we get caught up in listening to words that aren’t life-giving.

It can be hard to hear God above all the noise we’re surrounded with. It’s up to us to find moments of silence or it isn’t likely to happen.

Silence can be intimidating when we’re not used to it.But even a minute of paying attention to your breath can make a huge difference. You can always work up from there. Chances are you can tolerate more silence than you think. Extraverts included.

In my own imperfect experiments with silence, I tend to find myself more aware of the noise around me the rest of the time. It’s easier to notice when social media is making me anxious or when the radio is overwhelming. And that makes it easier to turn them off until I’m less flooded.

In the meantime, I’m more mindful of what is life-giving: books, walks, a text to a friend, daydreaming out the window.

In Philippians, Paul exhorts his readers to meditate on good things: “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.”[2]

What if we replaced even one minute a day of the life-draining noise around us with a minute of silence?

What difference might that make in your life?

What could the Holy Spirit do with that empty space?

Author and educator Parker Palmer wrote, “In our culture, we tend to gather information in ways that do not work very well when the source is the human soul: the soul is not responsive to subpoenas or cross-examinations.

At best it will stand in the dock only long enough to plead the Fifth Amendment. At worst it will jump bail and never be heard from again. The soul speaks its truth only under quiet, inviting, and trustworthy conditions.”

As uncomfortable as our culture is with silence, there’s a reason why it’s got such a lengthy history in the Christian tradition and in many other faiths as well. God is always with us, of course, but we so often only hear God when we slow down and quiet down enough to hear the still, small voice.

Our reading from James reminds us of the power of words to tear down or build up.In our Gospel reading, Peter illustrates that very power.

Jesus warns his followers that he isn’t here to build an earthly empire but a Beloved Community of peace, justice, joy, and love that will last forever. And it’s worth risking everything.

Silence can help us hear God past the life-draining noise that surrounds us.

Let’s take one minute now to sit in silence.Then, we’ll sing together in praise of our Messiah, God’s Anointed One.Let’s begin now. The Lord be with you.

[1] John 6:68

[2] Philippians 4:8

Sermon on Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

I want to start this sermon with a disclaimer: this story is not saying you shouldn’t wash your hands.

Washing your hands is a good thing and promotes not only your own health, but the health of your neighbor. Jesus is not saying here that you shouldn’t wash your hands. Drawing the conclusion from this story that you shouldn’t wash your hands would be a misjudgment.

But misjudgment is a good deal of what this story is about.

Some religious leaders had come from Jerusalem to check out this rabbi, Jesus, who had been getting a lot of attention.

And so far, they didn’t like what they were seeing.

Jesus’ ragtag bunch of disciples weren’t participating in the handwashing ritual they were accustomed to.

The reading says “all the Jews” participated in this ritual, but that’s probably a bit of an exaggeration. Think about how few rituals all Christians from every denomination do, and even then, the rituals look pretty different.

But for the religious leaders confronting Jesus, this was a big deal.And they were making judgments based on that.

Jesus was a rabbi and was failing to instruct his disciples in the way things “should” be done.

___________

But Jesus wasn’t having it.

He told the religious leaders that they were worried about the wrong thing. There are worse things than dirty hands (though, again, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wash your hands).

Jesus is more concerned with what’s in people’s hearts.

Our reading today skips some verses that explain more about what Jesus was pushing back at the religious leaders for.

Here are verses 9-13:

9 Then [Jesus] said to them, “You have a fine way of rejecting the commandment of God in order to keep your tradition! 10 For Moses said, ‘Honor your father and your mother’; and, ‘Whoever speaks evil of father or mother must surely die.’ 11 But you say that if anyone tells father or mother, ‘Whatever support you might have had from me is Corban’ (that is, an offering to God[e])— 12 then you no longer permit doing anything for a father or mother, 13 thus making void the word of God through your tradition that you have handed on. And you do many things like this.”

So basically, Jesus was scolding them for focusing so much on handwashing when they were doing things like not taking care of their obligations to their families. Instead of honoring their parents, they were giving their money as an offering to God that, in their culture, they should have been using to care for their parents.

And just as handwashing and being concerned with the state of one’s inner life are both good things, providing for family members who need care and making offerings to God are both good things.

Jesus was scolding them for offloading their responsibilities (taking care of their family members) in the name of God (by donating money that could be used to care for their family members). Jesus was also scolding them for being more concerned with his disciples’ handwashing habits than the fact that the religious leaders were offloading their responsibilities. They were judging others instead of examining their own faith practices.

The religious leaders had come in judgment—observing outward actions that didn’t directly relate to the disciples’ character or love for God or the world.

Their reaction to the disciples was not loving or empathetic.

So, Jesus teaches that what most hinders us is not when we fail to uphold rituals, but when we allow the nastiness in our hearts to harm others.

_____________

And we all do that.

We fall short. We miss the mark. We hurt each other and ourselves.

Jesus gavethe religious leaders some harsh truth: the selfishness, pride, envy, greed, etc. within us make us much sicker than the germs on our hands.

Our reading from James also lays out some tough standards:

1.    be rid of that selfishness, pride, envy, greed, etc.

2.    Be truthful with yourself and don’t pretend you’re holier-than-thou.

3.    Act out your faith in the world; don’t just listen and go about your business unchanged.

4.    Take care of widows and orphans—the most marginalized in society.

These are good things. And they’re hard.

Even our first reading from Deuteronomy is about upholding God’s commandments.

All our readings today focus on doing. And that’s important. The saying, “actions speak louder than words,” is true. And when our love for God motivates us to share that love with others, it’s often our actions that demonstrate that love most sincerely. Our faith should cause us to live differently than if we didn’t love God.

However, it’s also important to remember that our actions don’t save us. Only Jesus does that, and it’s already finished. There is nothing we can do to make God love us any more or any less.

God loves you because you are, not because of what you do. So, as we meditate on these doing-oriented readings, be gentle with yourself. We are human beings who fall short, who miss the mark, who hurt each other. We are very far from perfect and are still perfectly loved.

I know that you are loving people who care deeply about your neighbor and have beautiful hopes for this community. As we continue our journey of learning how to love God and love our neighbors, and especially in this Sabbath year, let’s take a deep breath and give ourselves some of the grace we offer others. And don’t forget to wash your hands.

I’d like to share with you a poem that spoke to me this week about slowing down, being gentle with ourselves, and mostly about not being perfect.

“Walk a Little Slower”[1]

By Tanner Olson

I think today I'll walk a little slower and breathe a little deeper. 

I’ll leave my phone face down, inside, and

give my eyes a rest to see beauty beyond a screen.

I’ll grab a light jacket so I can still feel the cold wind, hold your hand until it gets sweaty, and I'll let go, but I'll never let go.

I’ll walk below and between shadows, cut through the field, cross the street when the cars clear. 

Today I want to find myself beneath the limbs of the trees and later on below a few million stars. 

Maybe we’ll see a dog or bump into old friends or both. 

I’m not counting steps or miles, but I'm just walking because for now …

I can. 

And I don't know what the future holds, if my days left are long or short or, well, you get it. Maybe grief is around the corner or a missed call on my face-down phone back inside.

Maybe there is good news in my inbox or a miracle waiting in the welcome of next month. 

In the morning, I’ll sit a little longer and drink a little deeper. 

I’ll watch the light make its way through the dark morning.

The light always finds a way.

And I’ll remind myself life won’t always look the way it does. 

Change is coming, and it might even be here. 

I’ll remember the steps forward and the steps back that led me to where I am and before I begin to move these feet once again, I’ll slowly breathe in grace and exhale peace, knowing that every piece of me is here to be. 

And whatever may become, well, for now, 

for now, I’ll walk a little slower and breathe a little deeper.

Because right now, I'm alive. 

And everything is okay. 

It’s not perfect, and that’s okay. 

And that’s what I'm learning to tell myself these days. 

Everything is okay. 

It’s not perfect, and that’s okay.

Peace to you this week as you act out your faith in love and offer grace to yourself as well as others.

[1]https://tannerolson.substack.com/p/walk-a-little-slower