And so it ends. The male disciples have already withdrawn from the story, having hidden after Jesus’ arrest. And now even the three women who were present for his crucifixion and who have come to take care of his body flee in silence. We may find ourselves terribly disappointed in all of them. And then no sightings of the resurrected Jesus? We may find ourselves terribly disappointed in the author of Mark’s Gospel, too.
Palm Sunday ~ Passion Sunday March 25, 2018 It is our custom at Second Congregational Church to begin Holy Week with the joy of Palm Sunday and then move into the story of the events of Holy Week all the way through Good Friday. We enter the sanctuary with excitement, waving palms and singing our […]
During these final weeks of Lent, perhaps we can identify and begin – with God’s help – to erase the lies that have been etched into our hearts and souls. As we make our way towards the new life and joy of Easter, perhaps we can work on letting God write the truer truths on our hearts in big, bold letters so that we will never again forget.
Sometimes we manage to enter into that life-sustaining, healing, loving relationship. And sometimes we turn away from that gift of life and love and try to go it alone. Sometimes we live in clarity and truth; sometimes we live in cloudiness and confusion. Sometimes we live in the darkness and sometimes we come to the light. And of course, that is true for people the world over, not just those who claim the name “Christian.” Everyone everywhere has the opportunity to live in truth, light, goodness, and love. Just as Jesus did not condemn the Samaritans who believed differently and did not name him Christ, so he does not condemn the millions of people who do not follow him today. The only question that Jesus asks is, “Do you live in the light? Do you live in love?”
The Temple in Jerusalem was a hive of activity on that day when Jesus and his disciples approached it. The Passover was about to begin, and faithful Jews had traveled from places near and far to observe the holy days in communal worship. Doves and pigeons squawked from their cages; cattle lowed and sheep bleated. Merchants shouted as they attempted to outsell one another; patrons raised their voices to barter for the best deals. Money changers quibbled over exchange rates. Children shouted and ran around; frazzled and tired pilgrims tried to keep track of them while they conducted their Temple business. Priests and temple authorities mixed with the throngs healthy young adults, feeble elders, boisterous children, infirm seekers, the resolutely pious and the quietly reverent.
The cross: an instrument of torture and execution. Not only is Jesus going to go there; he is also telling his disciples that they have to go there too. As someone once said, “And so Peter begins the long tradition of Christians arguing with Jesus.”
The wilderness. A place of temptation. We know a lot about that too, don’t we? I had thought I’d talk this morning about our personal, private temptations, but then seventeen people were murdered at the Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. One of the biggest temptations of all, it seems to me, is idolatry. And this morning I’m concerned not so much with personal idolatry as communal idolatry; that is, the gods we have a society have decided to worship together. Here in America, we have made an idol of guns and gun ownership. And we, the citizens of the United States, through our actions and inactions, have allowed that idolatry to replace our humanity and our common sense. We have allowed the idol of the gun and gun ownership to replace our God.
So I suspect that it is with some relief that Peter, James, and John follow Jesus up a mountain, away from the crowds and the noise and the smells, away even from the other disciples, to a place of quiet and solitude. Just as they are catching their breath from the strenuous climb – it was, after all, a high mountain – just as they are inhaling the fresh, cool air and enjoying the peacefulness, something indescribable occurs. Jesus’ dirty, worn-out clothes become dazzling white.
“Here you go, Mom. Let’s get you all fixed up. OK, that’s all done, great work, Jesus. Now, we’ve had a long and exciting day watching Jesus cast out demons at the synagogue, and we’re really hungry. When’s dinner?”
We may be shocked by the demonic and by the exorcism. We may want to debate what that’s all about. But in the New Testament, including the Gospel of Mark, the exorcism stories are more about the story that gets told than about the exorcism itself. In other words, the question is not, “what happened?” but rather, “what does it mean?”
