Tag Archives: Jesus

I have everything to do with you – A Sermon on Mark 1:21-28; Epiphany 4B

The collect and readings for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany may be found here. The following sermon is based on Mark 1:21-28.

Who is this man with an unclean spirit that shows up in the synagogue today? He’s loud. He interrupts. He draws our attention the way an unbathed, talking to himself, homeless man would catch our attention if he showed up at St. Philip’s. The man with an unclean spirit is for many of us, I suspect, the shocking and intriguing part of today’s gospel.

Ironically, he does not have that effect on the people in the synagogue. Their attention is on Jesus. They are astounded by his presence and teaching. It’s like nothing they have ever heard before. He has authority. His words mean something. They make a difference. Even the man with an unclean spirit is shocked and intrigued by Jesus. “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?”

Jesus is teaching in the synagogue. His authority fills not just the place but each person there. And almost immediately this man with an unclean spirit shows up. The presence of Jesus, the man with a clean spirit, draws out the presence of the man with an unclean spirit. Jesus has that effect on people. His authority and teaching reveal the truth about his listeners’ lives.

This one with the unclean spirit is an image of what the lives of those in the synagogue look like. His uncleanness is not about personal hygiene, immorality, being bad, or Judaism. Instead his presence “in their synagogue” describes the disease of their soul, their fragmented lives, and the many voices within them. In looking at him they see themselves and they are astounded by the contrast of the one who has a clean spirit.

“What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?” He senses the distance between his life and Jesus’. His words betray his isolation. It’s not, however, just about him. He speaks not only for himself but for all those in the synagogue that day. He represents every one who has ever experienced the brokenness of life. He is the spokesperson for all who feel disconnected from themselves, others, or God. He represents the human condition. Behind his question is, I believe, the unspoken longing and hope that Jesus would say, “Everything. I have everything to do with you.” Those are the words that can begin to put his life back together.

We’re not so different. Each one of us also longs for that answer because we too know the separation and brokenness of our own lives. We’ve lived in isolation. We have been trapped in grief. We have carried the burden of guilt. The truth of those situations often reveals itself in the many personas we wear.

At some level we all project various personas or images of how we want others to see us and how we want to see ourselves. Sometimes it’s as simple, and seemingly silly, as saying, “I can’t go to the grocery store looking like this. I have no make-up on and my hair is a mess.”  Or we smile and say, “Yes, everything is just fine,” and quickly change the subject when the truth is we are hanging on by a thread and not sure how we’ll get through the rest of the day. We don’t want our life to be seen in its unmade-up condition.

We use our personas as masks to hide the truth of what our life is like and who we are. The tragedy is that they also hide who we might become. It seems that those masks most often arise from the many voices that live within us. They are the voices of condemnation and guilt, grief, fear, anger, and judgment. They are voices that keep us in constant comparison and competition with others. They are voices demanding perfectionism, asking, “What have you done for me today?” The voices are never satisfied. We are never able to do or be enough. Every one of those is a false voice, the voice of the unclean spirit that separates us from our authentic self, from all that we love, and all who love us.

Someone recently asked me, “Why do I care so much about what other people say and think about me?” I thought about today’s gospel. I thought about false voices, an unclean spirit, separation, and a longing for acceptance and approval. All of those are contained in her question. She could just as well have said, “What have you to do with me, Jesus of Nazareth?” She could be the man in today’s gospel. But then so could you. So could I.

We’re such funny people. Deep down we long for intimacy and authenticity but the last thing we want is to be found out, to have someone see us for who we truly are and who we are not. So we put on a good front hoping that will gain us approval, acceptance, love.

We say the right things, act the right way, dress and behave the right way, even believe the right way, and all the while we are creating ourselves in the image and likeness of the unclean spirit. The irony is that those fronts we put up, those personas, keep us from having the very things we think they will gain us; things like intimacy, love, acceptance, healing, forgiveness, and authenticity. The personas offer no possibility for life to flourish and be abundant. Still we hold on to those false voices, voices that collectively ask, “Have you come to destroy us?”

That is exactly what Jesus has come for. He has come to destroy. His silences our false voices.  He casts out all our personas and makes us people with a clean spirit. He has everything to do with us. He stands before us as the mirror image of who we can become. There is no aspect of our life about which he is not concerned. He calls us into our true self, the one made in the image and likeness of God. He calls us back into the beauty and wholeness of our original creation. Today’s gospel is as much about calling forth as it is about casting out. They are two sides of the same coin.

The true voice and the true image are always present. That’s why the man with an unclean spirit can cry out, “I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” He speaks from a deep place of knowing. His recognition of Jesus is at a profound level a recognition of himself and his own holiness. For every voice that denies that and leaves us crying, “What have you do to with us?” Jesus says, “Shhh. Be quiet. That’s not who you are. You are mine and I have everything to do with you.” Listen to that voice and you too will astounded at what can become of your life.

Casting and Mending – A Sermon on Mark 1:14-20, Epiphany 3B

The collect and readings for the Third Sunday after Epiphany, Year B, may be found here. The following sermon is based on the gospel, Mark 1:14-20.

Simon and Andrew were casting a net into the sea for they were fishermen. Day after day it was the same thing; the same sea, the same net, the same boat. Day after day it was wind, water, fish, sore muscles, tired bodies. They probably grew up watching their dad and granddad fishing, watching their future life, watching how they too would spend their time.

Cast the net, pull it in. Cast the net, pull it in. If you are not casting the net, then you sit in the boat mending the net. That’s what James and John were doing. Casting and mending. Casting and mending. You know about those days, right?

We may not fish for a living but we know about casting and mending nets. Days that all seem the same. One looks like another. Life is routine, lived on autopilot. Nothing changes. We don’t expect much to happen. This is our life. We cast the nets. We mend the nets. Casting and mending to make a living, to feed our family, to pay the bills. Casting and mending to gain security and get to retirement. Casting and mending to hold our family together, to make our marriage work, to grow up our children. Casting and mending to gain the things we want; a house, a car, books, clothes, a vacation. Casting and mending to earn a reputation, gain approval, establish status. Casting and mending our way through another day of loneliness, sadness, or illness.

Casting and mending are realities of life. They are also the circumstances in which Jesus comes to us, the context in which we hear the call to new life, and the place where we are changed and the ordinary becomes the extraordinary.

These would be disciples, Simon and Andrew, James and John, are not looking for Jesus. They are too busy with the nets. It is another day of casting and mending. They may not have even noticed Jesus but he not only sees them he speaks to them. Jesus has a way of showing up in the ordinary places of life and interrupting the daily routines of casting and mending nets. That’s what he did to the lives of Simon and Andrew, James and John. That’s what he does to your life and my life.

“Follow me” is Jesus’ invitation to a new life. If these four fishermen accept the invitation, their lives will forever be different. They will be different. They will no longer catch just fish. They will fish for people.

When Jesus says, “I will make you fish for people,” he is describing the transformation of their lives, not simply a job catching new members or followers. He could just as easily have said to the carpenters, “Follow me, and you will build the kingdom of heaven.” To the farmers, “Follow me, and you will grow God’s people. To the doctors, “Follow me, and you will heal the brokenness of the world.” To the teachers, “Follow me, and you will open minds and hearts to the presence of God.” To the parents, “Follow me, and you will nurture new life.”

Whatever your life is, however you spend your time, there is in that life Jesus’ call to “Follow me.” “Follow me” is the call to participate with God in God’s own saving work. It’s the work of change and growth. That work is always about moving to a larger vision, orienting our life in a new direction, and experiencing that our little story of life is connected to and a part of a much larger story of life, God’s life.

As Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee he saw Simon, Andrew, James, and John. Jesus called them. Mark records no discussions, no questions, no good byes. They simply “left… and followed him.”

I’m afraid that if Mark were writing about me – when he gets to the part when Jesus says, “Follow me” – Mark would write, “and immediately the questions followed.” “Where are we going? What will we do? How long will we be gone? What do I need to take? Where will we stay?”

But this conversation doesn’t take place in today’s gospel. Jesus does not offer a map, an itinerary, or a destination, only an invitation. This is not the type of journey you can prepare for. This is the inner journey, a journey into the deepest part of our being, the place where God resides. It’s not about planning and organizing, making lists, or packing supplies. It’s not that easy. If anything this journey is about leaving things behind. Listen to what Mark says:

  • “Immediately they left their nets and followed him.”
  • “They left their father Zebedee in the boat…, and followed him.”

The invitation, “follow me,” is also the invitation to leave behind; to leave behind our nets, our boats, and even our fathers.

That’s the hard part for most of us. We’re pretty good at accumulating and clinging but not so good at letting go. More often than not our spiritual growth involves some kind of letting go. We never get anywhere new as long as we’re unwilling to leave where we are. We accept Jesus’ invitation to follow, not by packing up, but by letting go.

“Follow me” is both the invitation to and the promise of new life. So what are the nets that entangle us? What are the little boats that contain our life? Who are the fathers from whom we seek identity, value, or approval? What do we need to let go of and leave behind so that we might follow him?

Please don’t think this is simply about changing careers, disowning our family, or moving to a new town. It is about the freedom to be fully human and in so being discover God’s divinity within us. We let go so that our life may be reoriented, so that we can now travel in new direction, so that we may be open to receive the life of God anew. When we let go, everything is transformed – including our nets, boats, and fathers. That’s why Jesus could tell them they would still be fishermen. But now they would fish for people. They wouldn’t become something they weren’t already, but they would be changed. They would become transformed fishermen. They would more authentically be who they already were.

Ultimately, it’s about letting go of our own little life so that we can receive God’s life. This letting go happens in the context of our everyday activities; work, school, families, paying the bills, running errands, fixing dinner, relationships, and trying to do the right thing. It happens in the casting and mending of our nets. These are the times and places Jesus shows up and calls into a new way of being and our world changes. It happened for Simon, Andrew, James, and John. It can happen for you and me.

Jesus Calling Simon and Andrew

In Whose Name Shall I Baptize You?

Seeing you, O Christ our God, drawing near to him in the river Jordan, John said Why are You who are without defilement come to your servant, O Lord? In whose name shall I baptize you? Of the Father? But you bear him in yourself. Of the Son? But you are yourself the Son made flesh. Of the Holy Spirit? But you know that from your own lips you give him to the faithful. O God who has appeared, have mercy on us.

- by Anatolius. From the Great Service for the Sanctification of the Water.

Icon of the Theophany: The Baptism of Jesus

Salty, Doo Doo, and Jesus – A Sermon for the Feast of the Holy Name, Luke 2:15-21

The collect and readings for January 1, the Feast of the Holy Name, may be found here. The following sermon is based on the gospel, Luke 2:15-21.

After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb (Lk. 2:21)

My wife and spent some time last week with a couple of her friends and their husbands. One of the men is a former Marine pilot. The other spoke about his father who had been a pilot in World War II. His call sign was “Salty.” The Marine pilot’s call sign was “Doo Doo.” I have never met Salty and I don’t know Doo Doo all that well but I now have some ideas and a clearer picture of who they are.

Names are more than just labels. In some way names capture and express the essence of the person. They reveal qualities and characteristics. Try these out. See what they reveal.

  • Tricky Dick
  • Hussein
  • Gandhi
  • Martin Luther King, Jr.

These names are about a life and a way of being. Within these names are particular actions, values, and beliefs of the person. Sometimes names reveal experiences and relationships. Think about these names: “Daddy,” “Darling,” “Sweetie pie.” My younger son somehow picked up the nickname “Okamo.” I don’t know where it came from but it was more than just something I called him. Within that name was a relationship of love and the experiences of a young boy and his dad.

Names can identify and reveal our personhood. That’s why it sometimes hurts when we are anonymous and our name forgotten. That’s why we also sometimes prefer and hide in anonymity. Names disclose who we are, how we are, where we come from, where we are going. That seems to be at least one of the purposes of all the genealogies in holy scripture.

God uses names and name changes to establish relationship, identity, and belonging. Think about God inviting Adam to name the animals and then giving Adam dominion over creation. Adam named Eve for having come from his side. Moses was so named because he was drawn from the water. Abram and Sarai were renamed Abraham and Sarah for their new relationship to God. Jacob wrestled the angel and was named Israel. Saul’s life was transformed and he became Paul.

Today, January 1, the world is concerned about a new year, resolutions, football, and black-eyed peas. The Church, however, is focused on a name, Jesus. It is the name that reveals God’s life and purpose, claims us as God’s people, and changes our lives. Today is the fulfillment of Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary. Everything the Archangel said would happen has now happened.

We gathered on March 25, nine months and eight days ago, to celebrate the Feast of the Annunciation. Gabriel came to Mary announcing that she would conceive in her womb, she would give birth to a son, and she would name him Jesus. And so it was. She conceived. Nine months to the day later, December 25, we gathered with joy to greet the newborn child. Today, eight days after the birth, we gather to hear the name given him by the angel before he was conceived in the womb, Jesus.

Jesus. Yeshua in Hebrew. It means the Lord saves, salvation. Within the name is Jesus’ vocation, a relationship to humanity, and a desire of God. The name “Jesus” says that God cares about us; God knows what is happening to and with us; God is not indifferent; God is present, acting in the world and in our lives; and that God loves us.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. The name is, contains, and reveals the fullness of God’s life, love, and longing.

So maybe we ought to consider our relationship to the name “Jesus.” When do we say that name? Where? How often? Under what circumstances? In whose company? Is it only a name we read in the Bible? A name we speak only in church? How have we misused or even desecrated the name? Do we say it as our prayer? What do we believe about that name, Jesus?

“What’s in a name?” Juliet asks Romeo.
“That which we call a rose,
by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Is she really correct? I think she has mistaken a name for a label. What if you said the word “rose” and you were filled with its fragrance? I don’t mean you remembered what a rose smelled like but you actually smelled the rose. What if every time you said the name “rose” you were immersed in a garden of life, beauty, and color? What if every time you said the name “rose” you could actually feel the softness of its petals? I suspect you would not want to call it anything but a rose and you would never cease calling, “rose.” That is how the Holy Name of Jesus works.

Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. Say it with me. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus…. Let that holy name fill our every thought, echo through our every word, occupy our heart, guide and direct our every step. We take that name into every circumstance of our life, into every relationship we have, to everything we do, to all whom we meet. Let it begin, fill, and end our day. Jesus before us. Jesus behind us. Jesus beside us. Jesus above us. Jesus below us. Jesus around us. Jesus within us. The name “Jesus” is our unceasing prayer. All that needs to be said is said in that one name.

Every time we say “Jesus,” we claim God’s salvation. Every time we say “Jesus,” we acknowledge our need of God and salvation. Every time we say “Jesus,” we open ourselves to God’s mercy, forgiveness, and healing. Every time we say “Jesus,” we remember that God is with us. Every time we say “Jesus,” we renew our relationship with him. Every time we say “Jesus,” his response is always the same, “Here I am.”

Richard Rolle on Devotion to the Name, Jesus

And seeing that you yearn to be God’s lover, I appeal to you to love this name, Jesus, and meditate on it in your heart so that you never forget it wherever you are. And, assuredly, I promise you that you will find great joy and strength in it; and because of the love with which you love Jesus so tenderly and as such an intimate friend, you will be filled with grace on this earth and be Christ’s beloved maiden and wife in heaven. This is because nothing pleases God so much as true devotion to [his] name of Jesus.

- Richard Rolle, “Ego Dormio” in Richard Rolle, The English Writings, p. 137.

I’ll give you one piece of advice: don’t neglect his name, “Jesus.” Meditate on it in your heart night and day as your personal and precious treasure. Love it more than your life. Root it in your mind. Love Jesus, because he made you and bought you at a very high price. Give your heart to him, because it is the debt you owe him. Therefore devote your love to this name “Jesus,” which means “salvation.” No evil thing can have any living-space in that heart where “Jesus” is faithfully kept in mind, because it chases out devils and destroys temptations and turns out all wrongful anxieties and defects, and purifies the mind. Whoever really loves it is full of God’s grace and full of virtues, receives spiritual strength in this life; and when such people die, they are adopted into the order of angels above, to behold in unending joy him whom they have loved.

 - Richard Rolle, “Ego Dormio” in Richard Rolle, The English Writings, p. 150-51.

Richard Rolle, The English Writings (Classics of Western Spirituality)