A prophet in his own home

Mark 6:1-6

               A woman who ran a soda fountain was disturbed one day to notice a group of older boys making fun of a younger boy.  “He’s so stupid!” she could hear one of the older boys saying, “Watch this!”  The older boy proceeded to take out of his pocket a dime and a nickel which he then held, one in each open palm in front of the younger boy.  “Which one is more?  Which one do you want?” he mockingly asked the young boy.  The young boy looked very carefully for a moment at each coin, finally picking up the larger nickel and putting it in his pocket.  The older boys laughed and mocked and moved on.  The woman watching this, upset by what she saw, approached the young boy.  “I know the nickel is a bigger coin, but son, don’t you know that the dime is worth more than the nickel?”

               “Of course!” replied the boy.  “But if I don’t pick up the nickel every time, they will stop doing the ‘trick’ and so far I’ve managed to get over a dollar of their money.”

               Just like the boy in this story, Jesus, in his home town, was much more than his community would, or could see.  The people in his community could not see Jesus for the man of God that he was.  They could not allow for him to be a worker of miracles, a speaker of truth, the son of God.  As a result he could not do miracles in his home town.  They could not see who he was and so, with his own home community, he had no status, no respect, and ultimately no power. 

               Do you know people who are so charismatic, were so charming even as children that they had no trouble becoming prom queen or king, class president, “most likely to succeed,” etc.?  Individuals at every high school win these titles every year.  And I think that these are the kind of people who would have had no trouble being prophets in their own homes.  These are people everyone likes and everyone wants to be with.  They make their way, their successful way in the world because of and based on their charisma.  Everyone who meets them wants to be part of their fan club, their inner circle, their friends.  Many of our politicians fit into these categories.  Leaders of many of our cults also fit into this category: David Koresh, Jim Jones, etc.  For many of our most famous actors and actresses they too have found success by knowing the right people and by being the ‘right’ people also:  people that you cannot help but want to support, love and be around.  Most of these people not only have charisma or social status because of their personalities, but also have class standing; they are from a class of people whom we tend to respect: they have money, tend to be white collar workers, they come from respected family backgrounds.

               What is interesting for me about today’s scripture is that it tells us Jesus was not one of those typically charismatic people.  The people in his home town did not run to support his ministry, but instead made comments like, “huh.  I know his little sister!” and “He’s just the carpenter’s son!”  In our day the equivalent might be “what’s so special about him?  Who does he think he is, trying to change the world, preaching at us, claiming to do miracles.  We know his family for heaven’s sake!  His father worked as a janitor.  Wasn’t his sister, Suzy, the one who had such trouble in school?  And his brother, George, wasn’t he caught smoking behind the church?  Who does this Jesus think he is?  He’s not so special.”  Because they could not or would not see Jesus, everyone was diminished.  The people did not benefit from his gifts, he was unable to fulfill his purpose among them.

               This understanding of Jesus, as one not successful in his home town, one not seen, one not powerful, is, like everything else about Jesus, scandalous.  God did not come to us among the powerful, among the professionally and monetarily successful, among the popular, or the charismatic or famous.  He came and is coming among those we tend not to see or think of very highly.  He is coming among people you and I would and do have a hard time respecting.

               But while this understanding of Jesus is scandalous, I have to admit, I like this about Jesus.  Since I too am not charismatic or famous or rich by American standards, this surprising part of Jesus appeals to me.  He isn’t so far away, so untouchable that I can’t relate to him.  More importantly, he isn’t such an “idol” that he can’t relate to me.  This story about Jesus makes him once again, more human, more like us, more one of us.  His experiences in this life were very much what many of us have experienced and known.  He underwent again and again what it was like to not be seen in his fullness, valued in his being honored as who he really was, and respected.  He experienced powerless-ness.  He experienced rejection.  He, too, was not seen in his fulness by people he knew, loved and cared for.

               The words of one children’s song are, “There’s more to me than you see.  Won’t you reach out and touch me?”  We understand that feeling.  We are more than the person in the red car sees as he gives us an obscene sign because we made some error in our driving or weren’t going fast enough in his opinion.  We are more than the people in line at the grocery store see, annoyed at us because one of our items is missing the price tag and we have to wait for the bagger to get the correct price.  We are more than the professor sees who writes on our paper, “I’m disappointed in you.”  We are more than our teenagers and the teenagers in our community see who believe we can’t possibly understand or relate to them because they don’t know that in fact we are every age we ever were and so there is still that teenage part in ourselves, searching for who we are, struggling against trying to please those in our communities.  We are even more than those who love us will ever know.  We are more than we ourselves recognize: we are more every day, we are more of our potential, in our possibilities, in our being than just our past, our class, our money, our fame, our talents and our actions show.  We are God’s children.  God made each of us amazingly complex, unique, beautiful and GOOD.  Each of us is immensely valuable.  Each of us is worthy of infinite love.  You are an incredible creation.  You are worthy of being seen, of being loved, of being known.  God made you and loves you just because you are.  Just because God made you in love and for love.

               There was a monastery high in some beautiful mountains that was going to be closed down.  There were only a few monks who lived there – no new monks had joined for many years and visitors were scarce.  In an act of desperation, the monks decided to consult a local guru who was known for his wisdom in all matters.  When brother Michael consulted with this guru, the wise man said that he could not help them to keep the monastery open but that he was so glad the brother had come because he had a message for him.  Michael was surprised and asked what the message was.  The guru told him that the Christ was living disguised in the monastery.  Michael took this message back to the monastery, and told the other monks that while the guru had not been able to help them, that he had this amazing news to share with them.  After hearing the message, the monks began to look at one another differently.  Surely the Christ wasn’t brother Jason, they thought, he snores and brags and is anything but Christ-like!  But then again, the guru had told them that Christ was in disguise…    Could it be brother Simon?  He eats a little too much, but is generally very gentle and loving.  Maybe it is him…  Because none were sure who was the Christ in disguise, they began to treat each other person in the monastery as if they could be the Christ, just in case they were.  Visitors to the monastery began to notice that something was different here.  Each of the monks seemed to treat everyone with such reverence, such care, such respect and such holiness.  And as they noticed this difference, they wanted to be around it more.  They invited their friends to come back with them, and some chose to join the monastery.  The monastery began to grow again and eventually became a thriving, vital, active Christian community.

               When Jesus was not seen and not understood, not respected and loved by his own community, everyone in the community was poorer.  The same is true among us.  When we do not see each other, work to know each other, love each other in our fulness, we are all poorer for it.  And there is good reason for us to try.  Because just as in the story of the monastery, Christ is among us.  And she/he is indeed in disguise: the disguise is each of us.  The disguise is you.  What would happen here if were each treated with the care and respect of these monks?  What would happen to you if people looked at you like they really saw you, respected you, VALUED you, all the time, as the amazing, lovable, child of God person that you are?  What would happen to our world if we began to treat each other across cultures and across all barriers of ethnicity, gender, ability, age, country of origin, sexual orientation, religion, with the care and respect of the monks?

               Where is the Christ?  Where does Christ come again among us?  Not where expected – not in the powerful, the rich, the famous, the noticeable, the “beautiful people”.  Jesus did not come to us as the all loved, “most likely to succeed”, rich bachelor TV personality.  And Christ does not return as a person we would recognize as being of consequence: not rich, not popular, not special by American standards.  Jesus had regular, normal brothers and sisters, his dad had a blue collar job, he grew up in a poor community and, as much as he was divine, he was also fully human, just like us.  The challenge in this for all of us is that we are called to treat everyone around us as the Christ.  The comfort in this is that you, too, are deserving of such love, such care, such deliberate intentional knowing of the wonderful, beautiful, child of God that you are.  Christ returns every day anew.  In and among us.  In and among YOU.

yesterday's sermon - Love Vs. Fear

Psalm 22
1 John 4:7-21

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear, because fear expects punishment. The person who is afraid has not been made perfect in love. We love because God first loved us. If anyone says, I love God, and hates a brother or sister, he is a liar, because the person who doesn’t love a brother or sister who can be seen can’t love God, who can’t be seen.  This commandment we have from him: Those who claim to love God ought to love their brother and sister also.”

Wow.  There is so much in these texts for today.  So much.  I’ve been focusing on similar texts from 1 John on Wednesday evenings as well.  They are not easy texts.  Perfect love casts out fear, and those who are in fear are not in love.  And then “Anyone who doesn’t love a brother or sister can’t love God.”  Wow.  “Those who claim to love God ought to love their brother and sister also.”  And then Jesus goes on to tell us to, “Love your enemies.”  Wow.  Who can do all of this?  Who can live without fear?  Who can love their enemies?  Who is it who loves every person without exception?  And who is loving to even those who are hurtful and sinful and bad to us or, what’s even harder, who can love those who hurt our loved ones, our children?
None of us succeed at all of this.  And yet the passage from 1st John would tell us that when we are afraid, we are not living in love.  And when we fail to be loving, to anyone, we are not loving God.
There is a great deal in this passage, but what I want to especially focus on today is the fear aspect of this passage.  Fear casts out love.  Love casts out fear.  We see this all the time.  As we hear about what is going on in Baltimore, regardless of how you understand or interpret the events, we can see the truth about fear and love.  The fear and anger of those rioting includes no love for those they feel or believe have hurt them.  There is only fear, which leads to anger, which leads to hate, which leads to this kind of destruction and, indeed, to suffering.  And the response of those on the other side is also fear, which includes no love or ability to hear what the rioters are trying to say with their rioting behavior.  There’s no love because everyone is acting out of their fear.  And again, no matter how you understand what is going on politically, or who you see being at fault here, it is easy to see that fear is truly casting out love.  No one is hearing, no one is seeing with eyes of compassion, no one is engaging in the empathy, understanding, and possibilities for constructive change that love demands. Fear IS leading to anger, which is leading to hate, which is leading to destruction and which is then causing great suffering.
The thing we tend to fear most is death.  That’s not always true, but I do think as a general rule it is what we fear most.  And even though Jesus’ resurrection shows us that we don’t even need to fear death, that there is life after death, that even death is ultimately defeated, when we are faced with death, and even more, I think, when the people we love are faced with death, it is really hard to hang on to our peace, our commitment to loving even our enemies, our call to choose love over fear.
We struggle so much with fear.  I mentioned in a newsletter article a few months ago, that not only have parks removed all of the little merry-go-rounds we used to have along with the see-saws, but now they are starting to remove swing sets because “some kid might walk in front of the swing and get knocked down!”  I loved that equipment as a kid, especially the swings.  But because of our fear of someone getting hurt, we are removing those opportunities for kids.  When I was a kid, I was shoved out the door early in the morning to play in the street with the other kids on our block, called home only for supper in the evenings.  I walked, hiked, by myself starting at age 6 in the foothills of Mt. Diablo.  Could I have been hurt?  Of course.  I could have fallen in a mole hole and sprained an ankle.  I could have been bitten by a spider or a snake.  Someone bad might have been in those hills when I was up there who might have grabbed me or worse.  There are all kinds of dangers I could have suffered.  But those walks in those hills are my fondest child-hood memories.  It is in those hills that I found, met and grew close to God.  I got my exercise in those hills without my parents ever paying a cent, staying in shape physically, emotionally and spiritually in those hills.  Now a days I would never, ever let my kids walk in them alone.  I would never let my kids play in the streets unsupervised.  We would never do this.  Our kids stay inside unless they are in an outdoor sporting situation that is heavily supervised.  But I wonder what we have lost because of our desire to protect them.  About three years ago, I read another article on line about how dangerous ice cream trucks are and what MIGHT happen to kids who went to buy ice cream from them – they could be kidnapped or poisoned.  In the comment section, someone asked the reporter if the scenario he had painted had actually ever happened.  The journalist admitted, “well, no, I haven’t been able to find any record of anything like this actually happening.  But it COULD happen.”  Well, yes, anything could happen.  But does it mean we simply stop living because of our fear?  I wonder more and more, how much we have lost out of fear.  I wonder how much living we have denied those we love the very most because we are afraid and want to protect them.  And I wonder as we move forward at what point we will just insist that everyone stay in their own isolated homes with the doors all locked all the time because we are just too afraid to go out.  It is not just love that is chased away by fear.  LIFE itself is also chased away by fear.  We are so afraid of death, that we don’t allow ourselves or our loved ones to LIVE the life we are so terrified of giving up!  The thing with fear is that it simply doesn’t leave room for anything else – like beauty, or purpose.  Like hope, or joy.  Like reconciliation or peace.  Like LOVE.
Marianne Williamson said, “We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
About ten years ago a book came out, “The Price of Privilege” which was written by a woman. Madeline Levine, doing research into those growing up in Marin County, possibly the most affluent community in our country.  The kids were not allowed to fail.  Or rather, the parents of these kids did not allow them to fail.  If a kid had a paper due the next day that they had put off, the parents would help the kids write the paper, staying up all night with them in order to assure their success.  These kids simply were not allowed to experience failure in any way.  The parents had this huge fear of their kids not being at the very top.  And they had a huge fear of their kids suffering at all to the point where they would be helicopter parents, overseeing every activity and situation.  Making sure nothing bad ever happened to their kids.  But the researcher then followed the kids when they left home and went on to college.  Some experienced failure at college then for the very first time.  The parents weren’t there to write the papers for them or stand up for them.  For others it wasn’t until they got their first jobs.  But either way, life includes failure.  And what this researcher found was that these kids had no experience handling failure and so when they experienced it finally, they simply were not able to cope.  The suicide rates among these kids was astronomical.  The clinical depression rate even higher.  In not allowing the kids to live all of life, which includes experiencing hard times, they did not build up a resilience or coping ability in their children which would allow them to know that everything passes, that what one experiences in each moment does not define the entirety of life.
I read an article this morning that was talking about how much good it does for kids to occasionally fall, get hurt, experience pain and learn to move through and beyond it.  Our fear of our kids experiencing any kind of pain or hurt damages them more than we can imagine.  Fear.  Fear, fear, fear.  Damaging all of us, keeping us from love, keeping us from LIFE.
The Good News in this is that God knows this is not easy for us.  God understands that.  Every time an angel appears in scripture, the first words they speak are words of calm, “Do not be afraid.”  Every time.  And then we come to have Jesus’ experience.  And we have his cry from the cross, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” which I think expresses both a feeling of abandonment, and also a feeling of fear.  In that, I find great hope.  Because it says that God, too, experienced those feelings, those very human feelings.  And while God calls us to step out of fear, because in fear we really are unable to feel love and compassion and empathy for that which we fear, at the same time, God loves us through that fear.  And God will call us into a love that surpasses it.  Psalm 22 reminds us not only that God has experienced all of what it is to be human, from our deepest pain to our fear, it also shows us that when we turn that over to God, when we turn over the fear as well as the pain to God, that we are reminded that God is bigger than both.  Vs. 27 of the Psalm – “Every part of the earth will remember and come back to the Lord; every family among all the nations will worship you.”  We have nothing to fear.  Ultimately God wins.  On this, the 5th Sunday of Easter, we can remember the promise – God wins every time.  Love wins every time.  Death was overcome.  Fear was overcome.  Love conquered all.
Yes, we will feel afraid.  It is human.  And God knows that.  But we can turn that over to God.  And we can trust in God’s promise that Love wins.  The more we trust it, the less we will fear.  The less we fear, the more we can love.  The more we love, the closer we come to God.  Every time.  Amen.