“ASTONISHED! BY WHAT?”

“ASTONISHED!  BY WHAT?”                Mark 1:21-28                                             Dana Douglass

Let’s do a little Bible study this morning.  First, a little review.  The New Testament starts off with four gospels — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.  The first three share a similar form and many of the same sources; John’s gospel is a little different from the others.  All tell the story of Jesus and his life and ministry.  All were written well after Jesus had lived and died.  Although Matthew’s gospel appears first in our Bibles, Mark’s gospel was written first.  It is Mark who invented the form of telling the story of Jesus’ life and ministry in a dramatic presentation involving plot, crisis, character development, and setting.

Each gospel writer put the story of Jesus down on paper for a particular audience, a specific community of early Christians.  Each writer understood the meaning of Jesus’ life and work in a slightly different way from his colleagues.  Therefore, they don’t attempt to write biographies of Jesus in an historically accurate way.  Rather, they set their stories up in a way that would lead the reader into discovering who they thought Jesus was, and what his life and death might mean.

We’re going to look at the first chapter of Mark’s gospel.  Mark is impatient.  He’s a man in a hurry.  There is no time to waste.  If Mark was running a meeting, you’d be out in under an hour.  No gabbing.  Do the work and get on with life. In order to do that with his gospel, Mark leaves a lot out — it’s amazing how much!  There’s no family tree for Jesus.  Not a word about his birth!  Nothing about his childhood!  Almost nothing about his run-ins with the Pharisees.  There’s no Sermon on the Mount!  Imagine — no sermon!  There are only four parables.  In Mark’s gospel, Jesus flies by, scattering miracles as he goes.

Mark wrote his gospel for the poor of Palestine who were being cruelly persecuted by the Romans; and whose life was made even harder by religious restrictions.  Mark doesn’t waste their time.  He believes that Jesus cared about them, and following him could make life better.  Hurry up, follow along, there’s no time to lose — this can save your life; or at least your soul!

Open up a Bible to Mark’s gospel.  Notice, the first sentence isn’t even a complete one.  “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, Son of God.”  Without even using a verb, Mark has done two astounding things.  First, he has declared who he believes Jesus is — the son of God.  Take that Romans!  You think you have all the power and authority; but we follow Jesus — God’s chosen one.  But, he has done something else.  He has called his book a gospel.  This was a direct slap in the face of the Roman rulers, who issued all their proclamations in gospels — good news for the people.  All of a sudden there’s another gospel in town.

John then moves directly to a word for the Jews.  He quotes their great prophet, Isaiah — “I send my messenger before you to prepare the way. . .”  That’s John.  And “immediately” John appears on the scene baptizing, and ALL the people of Jerusalem — watch out Romans; these are your fellow believers, Jews — all the people go out to him.  “And immediately” — notice how often Mark says “immediately” — Jesus comes up from the baptism, and the heavens are torn open, and a dove descends, and God speaks, “This is my beloved son!”  It’s not just Mark making the pronouncement now, God, herself, is saying it.

And “immediately” Jesus is driven into the wilderness, where he is tempted — not a word about how he was tempted; just that he was with wild beasts, and angels cared for him.  Then, Jesus begins to preach that God is coming close to a people in need.  Then, Jesus calls his disciples.  Without hesitation, they follow him.  That’s your model, by the way, follow Jesus, like Simon and Andrew did!

We’re only half way through the first chapter and look at all that has happened.  Now it’s time to really get to the point — Who is this Jesus,?  How does he affect people?  What does he do?

“Immediately, on the Sabbath, Jesus entered the synagogue and taught.  And the people were astounded at this teaching.”  Astounded!?  By what?  Mark says Jesus preached in the synagogue.  He says Jesus taught the people.  But, he never bothers to tell us what the teaching was!  Why?  Because what he said wasn’t nearly as important as how he said it, how he lived, what he did.

Mark says Jesus spoke with authority.  Mark says he didn’t speak as the scribes did.  But, the scribes were the religious authorities of the day.  They knew their bibles chapter and verse.  They knew every jot and tittle of the law.  They could recite the book of Leviticus word for word.  They were the ones who should have had authority.  Mark says, “Forget the scribes.”  They may know the letter of the law; but Jesus embodies the Spirit of a new kind of law.

“And immediately,” Mark is still in a hurry, no lingering on the point, “Immediately, there was in the synagogue a man with an unclean spirit.”  Wally, you’re sitting back there right by the door, why did you let the crazy person in?  “Man with an unclean spirit.”  What’s it mean to be a man with an unclean spirit?  Is he evil?  Is he mentally ill?  Is he possessed?  There’s no telling.  But, he’s in church.

Imagine a crazy person in church.  Churches, by the way, tend to attract people with problems, because people know that in church they can get away with being crazy — because church people are polite, and forgiving, and tolerant, and nobody will call them out in church.  They can even rise to positions of power in church, something they wouldn’t get away with anywhere else.  The only place that attracts more troubled people than church is seminary.   A lot of people go to seminary, not to learn how to help others, but to get help.  I digress!

Jesus is different; he doesn’t ignore the problem.  He doesn’t let the troubled person disturb the life of the church for long.  He doesn’t let the troubled person suffer.  The crazy person might have gotten by Wally, and even past Tom; but that’s as far as he goes.  “Be quiet,” Jesus said to him.  “Get out of him,” Jesus commands whatever it was that was tormenting him.  “And convulsing, it came out of him.”  Now, there stands in church a man who is no longer tortured.  Can’t you feel the relief of a calmed soul?  The people are astonished all over again.

This Jesus fellow speaks with authority.  Even the tormentors are driven out!  And his fame spreads throughout the land.

Could this story have been a metaphor in which Mark was telling the poor people of Palestine, who were oppressed by both the Romans and their own religion that Jesus had come to cast out the tormenters?  Could Mark have been saying that Jesus has come to free them from the things that make their lives miserable?  That Jesus has the ultimate authority in this world?  That love and compassion outweigh power and petty restrictions?  That’s the way it looks.  And that’s astounding!  That’s astounding even today.

On Wednesday I attended a funeral for an wonderful woman from the Holden Church.  The woman’s extended family attend Bangor Baptist Church, so the baptist minister led the service.  He did a nice job, said nice things.  He seemed to be thoughtful and considerate.  Until the end of the service, when he took five minutes to put a heavy weight on our shoulders.  None of us was ever going to see Grace again.  Grace had gone to heaven.  Grace was with Jesus.  And the only way to get to heaven and be with Jesus and Grace, was to publicly proclaim Jesus as our personal Lord and Savior.  No one else was going to heaven except those Christians who had a personal relationship with Jesus.

I sat there near the back and I thought to myself, “There’s a crazy man in church!”  Of course, I didn’t make a scene.  I didn’t think it was the time or place.  Although an eighty-eight year old woman sitting next to me elbowed me in the ribs and whispered, “I’ll see Grace again no matter what I say about Jesus.”

I wonder, if Jesus had been there, might he have very gently, but firmly have said, “Be quiet.”  And then, turning to the family and friends have said, “You are all dearly loved children of God.  God’s love is big enough to embrace you all, forever.”  And we might all have said, “What’s this!  A new teaching!  Full of authority, full of compassion?”

The Jesus Mark tells us about is in a big hurry to make life better — even for us, even today.

Martin Luther King, Jr Sunday

MESSAGE FOR MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR., SUNDAY
Every year since I entered ministry I have read some work of Martin Luther King on this Sunday.  Today I want to read excerpts for his Letter from the Birmingham City Jail.  King had gone from Atlanta to Birmingham to lead peaceful demonstrations against injustice there.  Laws had just been passed stating that marches could not be conducted without a permit — and a permit would not be granted.  King marched anyway, was arrested, and went to jail.  While there he read in the Birmingham newspaper an open letter written by eight clergymen calling his activities “unwise and untimely.”  He wrote back.

LETTER FROM THE BIRMINGHAM CITY JAIL          APRIL, 1963

MY DEAR FELLOW CLERGYMEN:
While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling my present activities “unwise and untimely.”  Since I feel that you are men of genuine good will and that your criticisms are sincerely set forth, I want to try to answer your statements in what I hope will be patient and reasonable terms.

We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.  For years now I have heard the word “Wait!”   It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity.  This “Wait” has almost always meant ‘Never.”

We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God-given rights.  We still creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter.  Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.”  But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six- year-old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross-county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” ( however old you are), and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness” then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.  There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair.  I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience.

You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws.  This is certainly a legitimate concern.  One may ask: “How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?” The answer lies in the fact that there two types of laws: just and unjust.  One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws.

We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was “legal” and everything the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary was “illegal.”  It was “illegal” to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler’s Germany.  Even so, I am sure that, had I lived in Germany at the time, I would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers.

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate.  I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to “order” than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man’s freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a “more convenient season.”  Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will.  Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.

Let me take note of my other major disappointment. I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership. I say this as a minister of the gospel, who loves the church; who was nurtured in its bosom.  I felt we would be supported by the white church, felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be among our strongest allies.  Instead, some have been outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement; and too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of stained-glass windows.

In the midst of blatant injustices inflicted upon the Negro, I have watched white churchmen stand on the sideline and mouth pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities. In the midst of a mighty struggle to rid our nation of racial and economic injustice, I have heard many ministers say: “Those are social issues, with which the gospel has no real concern.”

On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at the South’s beautiful churches with their lofty spires pointing heavenward. Over and over I have found myself asking: “What kind of people worship here?  Who is their God?  Where were their voices of support when bruised and weary Negro men and women decided to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the bright hills of creative protest?”

In deep disappointment I have wept over the laxity of the church. But be assured that my tears have been tears of love. There can be no deep disappointment where there is not deep love. Yes, I love the church.  Yes, I see the church as the body of Christ.  But, oh! How we have blemished and scarred that body.

I hope the church as a whole will meet the challenge of this decisive hour. But even if the church does not come to the aid of justice, I have no despair about the future.  We will reach the goal of freedom in Birmingham, and all over the nation, because the goal of America is freedom.  Abused and scorned though we may be, our destiny is tied up with America’s destiny. Before the pilgrims landed at Plymouth, we were here. Before the pen of Jefferson etched the majestic words of the Declaration of Independence across the pages of history, we were here. For more than two centuries our forebears labored in this country without wages; they made cotton king; they built the homes of their masters while suffering gross injustice and shameful humiliation; and yet out of a bottomless vitality they continued to thrive and develop. If the inexpressible cruelties of slavery could not stop us, the opposition we now face will surely fail. We will win our freedom because the sacred heritage of our nation and the eternal will of God are embodied in our echoing demands.

Let us all hope that the dark clouds of racial prejudice will soon pass away and the deep fog of misunderstanding will be lifted from our fear-drenched communities, and in some not too distant tomorrow the radiant stars of love and brotherhood will shine over our great nation with all their scintillating beauty.

Yours for the cause of Peace and Brotherhood,
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Road Work Ahead

“ROAD WORK AHEAD”                Isaiah 40:1-11                     Dana Douglass

How many hours did you spend the last few years waiting for the worker on the bridge to turn the sign from Stop to Slow?  Even worse than going over the bridge has been traveling from Ellsworth to Bangor.  With all the traffic coming and going from the interstate to Bar Harbor on a hot summer day, and all the widening, and blasting, and paving, the delays have been maddening.  No one likes being in a hurry to get somewhere and coming across the sign that warns of road work ahead.

But, when the job is done?  The results make us forget the frustration.  Our bridge looks beautiful and will last another few decades.  The road from Ellsworth to Bangor is now wide and smooth, there are broad shoulders, the twists and turns have been straightened out, there are passing lanes on the hills — it’s almost like a highway. Travel time has been reduced..

Isaiah talked about road construction in one of the beautiful biblical passages.  And he wasn’t describing minor repairs such as filling in potholes.  He was calling for major reconfiguration of the terrain: filling in valleys and leveling mountains.  Why all the hard work?  To make way for God to come back into the life of the nation.

Isaiah was talking to a people who had been defeated in war and carted away into slavery.  Their homes and institutions had been destroyed; their religion was becoming a memory; worse yet, they were getting used to being slaves..  Isaiah believed that misery had come their way because they had betrayed God and the tenants of their faith.  Compassion for the poor had given way to greed for themselves. Exile was the penalty for faithlessness.

Now, Isaiah said, Israel was being pardoned.  “You’ve paid double for your sins.  It’s time to go home.”  Isaiah wanted to be sure that when the people got home they would remove all the barriers that had kept God out of the life of the nation.  “Make straight in the desert a highway for our God.  Lift up every valley.  Lower every mountain and hill.  Make the uneven ground level, and the rough places a plain.  Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed.”

Talk about inconvenience!  It’s disruptive to change the landscape of human lives, to reclaim a set of values, to change behavior and start over.  But, if you can do the hard work, how smooth the traveling is when the work is done.

How about us? Have we have lost our way as a nation?  Are we in exile from our better selves?  Have we traded liberty for license, a peaceable kingdom for perpetual war, compassion for greed?  Could it be — and here’s a question we don’t like to ask in our liberal churches — could it be that in excluding God from public live, we have lost the very thing that gave substance to our national ideals?

The problem with asking that question is that it gets answered by those who don’t like complexity.  “Our nation went to hell when we took prayer of out school, started coddling homosexuals, and legalized abortion,” says those on the religious right.  But, those changes they were driven by a high ideal — to make room for all, to honor individual choices.  I might say, instead, that our nation started down the wrong road when we stopped living for anything larger than the individual, when the common good gave way to “self-actualization through consumerism”; when we threw the baby out with the bathwater — by which I mean we got rid of God so as not to favor any particular religion.  The intent was good; the result was not.

Last Saturday on NPR Scott Simon presented a moving editorial.  He said this: “It’s hard not to look at some of the pictures of people surging into stores as they opened at the stroke of midnight for Black Friday sales and see some kind of crass, mindless mob.  But I think something else may be at work to explain the swarms at midnight sales.  In hard economic times, people will go without buying themselves new shoes or a winter coat. They’ll do without lunch and snacks, and stretch hamburger with rice and beans. They’ll patch up old socks and sweaters. They’ll try to make their old car last for another year.  But they won’t skimp on holiday gifts for their family.

People who are unemployed will spend their last savings, and people who are earning less with fewer benefits will take a second job so that their children can unwrap the toy they’ve seen on TV.  I think they’ll spend money during the holidays that they might more wisely try to save for food or rent to try to reassure their spouses and children — and perhaps themselves — that they’re still resourceful and strong, that they can still provide for their families.”

I think the editorial is right on, but maybe doesn’t go far enough.  Perhaps the overindulgence we see around us at this time of year is a sign of deep spiritual hunger.   Maybe people are hungry for a connection with something bigger than themselves.  Hungry for comfort, peace, real joy.  Hungry for love and meaning.  Hungry for the Hallmark Christmas, or Hannakah.  So, on the Friday after Thanksgiving, the motivation is good — break down the doors, let the season in, get gifts for the ones we love.  The motivation is good; just a little misplaced.

During Advent we are reminded to do the inconvenient, risky, but ultimately rewarding work of letting God back into our lives.  We are reminded that if we would stop trying to buy love, and simply be more loving; if we would be more inclusivie, not less, even things up a bit between the rich and the poor, we might just get for Christmas what we really want — Spirit in our lives, a real connections with others, and a nation to be proud of once again.

I Hope

“I HOPE”                        Mark 13:24-37                                  Dana Douglass
Sometimes, when I am alone in the car listening to the radio, I will hear an ad for the Maine State Lottery which states that: “The jackpot this week is . . . so many million dollars.”  Sometimes, when I hear that figure I begin to dream.  What would I do with all that money?

The miles slip away as I fantasize.  Finish paying for college for my kids.  Maybe a little fund they could draw on as they try to get established in the world.  A little bit for Anne and me to make us comfortable in retirement.  But, since there is nothing I want that I don’t already have, I would give away most of the money.  That’s when the fantasy gets fun!  Who would get the money?  It’s great fun to be really generous in my imagination!  There’s a chance that you’d get back the money you’ve paid me this year.

I can fantasize about winning the lottery; but I can’t hope for it, because it can’t happen.  I’ve never bought a lottery ticket.  Here’s the point — In order to have hope, possibility must be present.  In order for hope to blossom, there must at least be a seed.

When I first went into ministry I was filled with idealism.  I wanted to change the world.  I wanted to preach peace and justice; and if I did my job well, said the right things, in the right way, in enough places, with enough passion then maybe the world would change.  That was fantasy.  I no longer hope that I will change the world.  I’m not gifted enough.  I’m not in a position to have that kind of impact.

Does that mean that I have no hopes for my work?  Not at all.  I hope that something I say on a Sunday morning might touch someone.  I “hope” that by just by showing up at someone’s bedside in the hospital allowed them to project the presence of the divine close by  I hope that is a comfort.  I “hope” that if the children have good memories of Sunday mornings in church, they will remember someday when they need to remember it — that God loves them.  I think those things are possible; so, I have hope.

The Bible is a really story about hope trying to ward off hopelessness.  The people of the Old Testament tried to maintain hope despite one historical catastrophe after another.  The early Christians did the same.  With Jesus, there was tremendous hope — a new kind of leader has been born.  When he was arrested and killed, terrible hopelessness.  On the road to Emmaus two disciples said, “We had hoped he was the one. . .  but now, what?”  Hope and hopelessness; back and forth.

In light of history, and all the hopelessness that has come around again and again, do we have any right to keep clinging to hope?  Absolutely, we do.  We have every right, even an obligation, to hope because the seeds of a better day have been planted.       Trace the women’s movement.  Look at the gay rights movement.  Once again we’ll see that history is on the move.  Things are better today then they were just a few decades ago.  Therefore, there is hope that things will get better still.

Near the end of his life Jesus predicted hard times ahead.  He said that days are coming when it will feel as though the sun itself has grown dark.  It will feel as if the moon has become dim and the stars are falling from the sky.  Jesus knew that it will occasionally feel as if everything is hopeless.  It will occasionally feel as if evil is in charge.  When you feel that way, Jesus said, learn from the fig tree.  When it’s branches become tender and it puts forth leaves, you can be assured that summer has come.  Even now, in the darkest months of the year, when all is brown and frozen, you can look at the lilac and see buds on the branches.  The seeds of hope are sewn.  Better days are ahead.

Advent is all about hope.  At the very darkest time of year, we light our little candles and they fend off the dark.  Just when it may feel as if God has abandoned us to our own devices, we hear again the story of God sneaking in the back door, or God entering the world in a barn on the edge of town.  We celebrate Advent and Christmas every year, not because we expect the old Jesus to come back in a new stable, but because God comes into our world over and over again.  Every time you leave hopelessness behind and step out in hope, God enters the world.

Advent reminds us that God has entered this world and planted God’s seeds.  Love is putting out roots.  Love is growing.  You are part of it.  In the weeks ahead, concentrate on rejecting despair and cynicism.  Fantasize about making the world a better place.  It is not foolish to have hope.  Hope is all around us.