Reversals

Psalm 103:6-14

Mark 2:1-22

               In today’s gospel lesson we see a Jesus whom, I think, we might find very confusing if we had not heard these stories before.  He forgives sins and then heals, confronting those who think he’s arrogant, or worse, then he tells these three little parables, all of which would be odd to us if they weren’t so familiar and if we didn’t add to them an understanding and interpretation in light of where Jesus’ life is heading.  The parables about the clothing and the wine skins may still seem very odd, very strange to us.

               But I’d like to invite us into a deeper reflection on those parables in particular and on Jesus’ behavior here specifically.  And I’d like to start by asking you a question.  I imagine that almost all of us have experienced the ending of a relationship at some point or another.  Perhaps it was a divorce.  Perhaps it was just a breakup.  Perhaps it was permanent, perhaps it was just for a time.  But my question for you, as you think about this schism, this ending, this rift is this: did you find that after the divorce or separation or fight or disagreement that at least some of your friends or family, some of the people around you, felt like they had to choose sides?  And that some of those who did not choose you or choose your side surprised you?  How did that feel?  I’ve listened to many people share with me the pain of losing friends or family, at least for a time, to a divorce or a split.  And the deep pain that this has caused.

In contrast, have you ever been in a situation where the friends DIDN’T choose sides?  But instead spent time with each of you?  And did you find that in some cases, in some situations, that hurt, too?  That it hurt to find that your friends or family would choose to still be friends with someone who had hurt you?  I think about a woman I counseled for some time sharing with me the pain she felt at the connection her children had with her ex-husband.  And while she was adult enough to know that it was important for her kids to have that relationship with their father, she still found it hurt: that they still shared a deep love that her ex-husband (who had been the one to leave the relationship) no longer offered to her.  Do these feelings resonate with any of you?

               I understand this. When one of my close friends chooses to be close to someone who has deeply hurt me, I can feel hurt by the friend as well.  On the other side of the coin, I can also be loyal to a fault. For example, my best friend dated someone for a while who was a fellow student at the seminary I attended.  When my friend’s boyfriend ended the relationship, perhaps it shouldn’t have affected my connection to the fellow seminarian, but honestly, I found it harder to forgive him than if he had broken up with me.  This went on for years, long after my friend had gotten over it.

               Jesus tells parables about how hard it is to combine the new and the old: new wine needs to be put in new wineskins, old clothing should be repaired with old material.  The mixing of things: the mixing of the old and new, the mixing of objects and materials and ideas that are old and new is difficult, if not impossible.   And then he shows us that this struggle is a challenge with people as well.  Jesus didn’t choose some people over others.  He hung out with the poor, the oppressed, with sinners.  But he also talked with and ate with the pharisees and others in authority.  And no one was happy with it.  I would say that this includes us.  We love Jesus because he stood by the poor and oppressed, because he loved all people – even those who made mistakes, were judged by the larger community, were rejected, had made mistakes like we know we do.  When we can identify ourselves in any way with the underdog with whom Jesus stood, we understand Jesus, choose Jesus, want to be like Jesus, inviting in everyone. 

               But Jesus ate with everyone.  And while much of the time we read these stories and might feel some self-righteousness towards those judgmental people who were upset that Jesus ate with the people they rejected, I wonder if we then fail to see that Jesus also ate with those judgmental people.  He talked with them, he confronted them, but he also ate with them, inviting them into relationship as well.  When we think about those we would rather not eat with, who do we think of?  I think we usually think about those people society rejects – homeless folk, mentally ill people, dirty folk, etc.  And we feel good that we are able to cross those lines and accept the people that society might reject, housing them through winter’s nights, feeding them meals and providing laundry help in various places, offering tutoring and care.  But, when we think about those Jesus ate with, do we think about those of differing political or theological opinions?  Do we think about those who we think are too snobby or rich or greedy or powerful as well?  Do we think of those who look down on us, who would reject us, not give us the time of day, would see us as inferiors?  How would you feel seeing Jesus eat with a person who had been unkind to you, cruel to you, rejected you, make you feel bad about yourself and treated you like you were an inferior?  Well, Jesus ate with them, too!  Jesus was the friend who refused to pick sides and loved even those who have hurt us, even those who look down on us.  And that is harder to take.

               When I was reading the commentaries on today’s scriptures, one of them pointed out that some preachers have used this passage to say that the old should be thrown out so that room can be made for the new.  And that it must be completely new: new wine in new wineskins.  But this fails to recognize that Jesus didn’t say anything about throwing out the old wineskins.  And he said nothing about throwing out the old clothing.  He talks about repairing the old with material that had already been shrunk: repairing the old with old material.  He is saying that mixing old and new is painful, is difficult, and sometimes is not healthy for either the old or the new.  But he does not reject either the old or the new. 

               Jesus acknowledged that there were things that would not, could not, go well together.  We know this at some level.  We know that some people would never make a good couple, for example.  You may have heard the joke, “intelligence is knowing that tomatoes are fruits.  Wisdom is choosing not to put said tomato in your fruit salad.” 

               There is a wonderful children’s story, Grasshopper on the Road by Arnold Lobel. In it there is a story about a group of beetles that grasshopper meets who love morning.  And Grasshopper is completely onboard with this until it becomes obvious that it isn’t just that the beetles love morning.  They also hate any other time of day.  Well we know that morning people and night people can have a hard time getting along.  And that it can cause problems for both when they try to share living space: one cranky in the morning, the other cranky at night…  Maybe they can’t always go together.  But that doesn’t mean one is bad.

               In Mitch Albom’s book, Have a Little Faith, Mitch talks about the Rabbi’s thinking about different faiths.  The Rabbi said, “It’s the blending of the different notes that makes the music.”  The music of what?

 “Of believing in something greater than yourself.”  But what if someone from another faith won’t recognize yours?  Or wants you dead for it?  “That is not faith.  That is hate.”  He sighed.  “And if you ask me, God sits up there and cries when that happens.”   

But this is hard for us.  We are a people who pick sides.  We are a people divided.  We are a people who struggle when we feel unchosen, or less chosen; unvalued or less valued.  And yet here it is.  Jesus loved us all, as hard as that is for us to take.    

I am reminded of the movie, The Whale Rider.  The girl, Paikea, is part of a Maori tribe in search of it’s new chief, a new whale rider who will lead the people.  Her grandfather has very set ideas about who this person must be.  He cannot see.  And despite all the signs that say that his granddaughter, Pai is the new whale rider, he rejects this again and again until finally, from that stubborn place, his actions lead to the breaching of all the whales on the land, and there being no one to help him find the male tribal chief whom he wants.  It is only after Pai rides the whale, leading all of them back into the sea, that her Koro is able to see the truth that it is HE who has been blind and unbending and in being so, has missed the chief intended – his granddaughter.  We may not like what Jesus points out to us, we may not like what we see.  But we are called to see anyway, to risk growing and changing, to strive to be better.

These Biblical passages challenge us.  Yet, they also bring us comfort.  When we are the people who mess up, Jesus still loves us.  When we are the people in need of healing, Jesus is still there.  But we are also the people Jesus confronts, and usually not in the way that is most comfortable for us, but in the way that shows us who we really are – who we don’t always choose to see.  Jesus shows us our immaturity, our “cliquishness”, our growing edges, and Jesus calls us to be better.  We can’t be better unless we really see the areas that need our work and care.  And so, while it is really hard sometimes to see, we are still called to allow God to point out our growing edges, to tell us we are loved despite them, and that it is because of that love that we are encouraged to grow and change.

I’m reminded of the following poem:

I asked God for strength that I might achieve.

I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey.

I asked for health that I might do greater things.

I was given infirmity that I might do better things.

I asked for riches that I might be happy.

I was given poverty that I might be wise.

I asked for power that I might have the praise of men.

I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God.

I asked for all things that I might enjoy life.

I was given life that I might enjoy all things.

I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I hoped for.

Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered.

I am, among all men, most richly blessed.

– Prayer by an unknown confederate soldier

                It is simply uncomfortable to be confronted with truths we would rather not see about ourselves.  But God loves us.  And because of that love, God will not leave us where we are.  God will show us who we are if we keep our eyes open.  And will encourage us to grow and change.  Jesus loved all of them – the overly self-righteous Pharisees as well as the sinners and tax collectors.  He loved them all.  He also left none of them where they were.  God will do the same for us as well.  Amen.