In May of this year, a seminary professor and author named Walter Wink died at the age of 76. While Walter may not have been a household name in popular culture (other than the fact that one of his sons was a founding member of the Blue Man Group!), he made a couple of huge contributions to the world of Bible study within the mainline protestant Churches.
The
contribution he is best known for was a series of seven books on what the
apostle Paul called the “Principalities and Powers” in which Walter gave us a
way to identify the forces of systemic evil in the world; and to confront them,
directly but non-violently, as a fully engaged follower of Christ.
His other contribution was one which took
quite a bit of bravery within the sometimes cut-throat world of academia. As recounted by his friend and student Bill
Wylie-Kellerman, in the early 1970s, “Walter was
a rising star in the biblical guild, on the fast track [to tenure at a
prestigious seminary. “ Then,
Walter boldly stated that “’Historical
biblical criticism is bankrupt.’[He] assailed the myth of scientific
objectivity, the disembodied approach which kept [the Bible] at arm’s length
and pre-empted commitment. In many respects it anticipated the… feminist and
liberation readings [of scripture, which would come soon after], but it didn't
win him friends in the academic guild. It was what might be called a "bad
career move." Tenure was not forthcoming. “
One aspect
of Walter’s approach to scripture was to really get inside the story: to approach
the text from the viewpoint of the characters in the story. And that’s what I’d like to do with today’s
reading from Mark. If it would help you
to get comfortable in your pew and close your eyes, so that you can make your
own mental pictures of these events, please feel free to do so (but you don’t
have to!) – you can picture yourself back there/then, or if is more helpful to
picture this in familiar terms, imagine the scene unfolding in a familiar,
modern day setting.
First off, I
invite you to imagine that you are one of the rank-and-file disciples – perhaps
Philip or Bartholomew or Andrew, but not Peter or James or John.
In
recent weeks, you have seen Jesus heal people of life-long diseases – the deaf
can hear, the mute can speak! You have
seen the feeding of the multitude, where this amazing teacher, speaker and
healer has seemed to act with God’s own power, miraculously blessing the
peasant’s meal of a small boy so that it fed thousands of people with leftovers
to spare. You have seen Jesus stand up
to small-time challenges from his home town and big-time challenges from religious
powerbrokers.
All that you have seen and heard has convinced
you that this is the promised one, the Messiah. All your life you have been
waiting for the one to kick out those imperial overlords and restore your
nation to everything it could be, and this friend of yours, Jesus, is going to
be the one to do it. You hate to even
think about it, but what role might he have for you once he takes power? You have been one of the 12 most faithful
followers he has, surely that will count for something here on earth – or even
with God, in highest heaven? So you allow
yourself to play with the idea, and jostle with the other 11 who mistakenly
think that they’re as special to Jesus as you are.
Then Jesus says this: “The Son of Man is about
to be betrayed to some people who want nothing to do with God. They will murder him. Three days after his murder, he will rise…
alive.” WHAT is he talking about? This
can’t happen if he’s the Messiah, it doesn’t work that way! It doesn’t work that way for him, and you
don’t think it should work that way for you, either. All twelve of you are absolutely
flabbergasted by what you’ve just heard, to the point that none of you can even
ask him about it, not even Peter who’s always got something to say.
And then, once you are off the road, he calls
you on it. He expected one of you, at
least, to ask him about his bold declaration, but instead you were busy with
other things. “What were you discussing on the road?” he asks. Uh-oh. You can see in his eyes that he knows, like a
parent who saw you sneaking an extra pomegranate from the fruit bowl, but he
wants you to tell him in your own words. He knows that you want to ignore all
his wild predictions about being murdered – and who wouldn’t? He knows that you were getting caught up in
what it would mean for YOU to be powerful in his Kingdom, instead of focusing
on what it would mean to follow him even when things get rough. He knows that you lost sight for the moment,
of what he was really demonstrating about God’s power working in him.
But he also knows that you’re still here, and
that counts for something, so he hails one of the children who always seem to
be present, and then he says to you, “So you want first place? Then take the
last place. Be the servant of all. Whoever embraces one of these children as I
do embraces me, and far more than me – God, who sent me.”
And with that, some of his words about power
start to sink in. He’s not concerned
about serving the needs of the powerful, he’s all about embracing the smallest
and the least powerful. He’s still the
Messiah –or at least you think he is – but not the kind you had imagined. You’re going to need some time to think about
this….
So while
you’re thinking about this, we’re going to move over to a different vantage
point for this story: the viewpoint of the Peter, who with James and John
formed an inner leadership circle within the 12.
You’re frustrated with the pace of what Jesus
is doing. You’ve seen all the healings,
you’ve heard the preaching, you get it.
Sure, sometimes he chides you for being quicker than the others – you
say he’s the Messiah, he says you’re right but you shouldn’t tell anyone. You say he doesn’t need to die at the hands
of the authorities, he dresses you down, but you know he’ll come to his senses.
You’re his right arm and you know it. After all, he picked you to be one of the three eye-witnesses on the mountain
when the Lord God himself (God be praised) dressed Jesus in glistening
garments, had him converse with Elijah and Moses and declared, “this is my own
beloved Son – listen to him.” James and
John saw it too. So when the other
disciples started bickering about which one would be favoured when Jesus takes
over as Messiah, you didn’t even join in. They can fight over second place, you know that
your faithfulness has already been recognized and will be rewarded.
Home in Capernaum, you listen impatiently as
Jesus confronts the others about their silly thoughts of power. But then he does something that surprises
you. He takes one of the children –
can’t remember the kid’s name – and says that all of you need to be like a
servant, or even a child, in order to follow him. And furthermore, if you really want to welcome
him, and welcome God, he says you have to start by welcoming children and other
powerless ones.
Really?
Twice Jesus spoke about his suffering and death and twice, you didn’t
agree. Now he completely ignores the way
things actually get done in society, by placing a child in first place? Argh.
Yes, Jesus is the Messiah – you’re convinced of that – but he sure
doesn’t do things the way regular leaders do things. You’re still listening… but his call to
leadership doesn’t line up with life as you understand it.
And now we
make one final move: seeing through the eyes the child, who enters the story
only at the end once Jesus and the disciples enter a familiar home in Capernaum. Since Jesus was making a point about the
“least powerful” in society, let’s imagine that you are not the “eldest son” of
the family – perhaps being the youngest daughter would give you the best point
of view.
It’s nice to see Jesus and his people
again. So many people in your little
house! Jesus, you recognize, and Peter,
he’s someone you used to see in the market.
Talk, talk, talk, they talk about so much! You’d rather just play.
But then Jesus motions to you to come
over. All right; you don’t get to be the
centre of attention very often with all the older children around, this could
be fun. You’re not sure what he’s
saying but it’s something about being a servant rather than trying to be boss.
Jesus puts you right in the middle of the
group. And he says they need to be
nice to you. Yes, you!
How could this be? Your parents are religious people, they keep
Sabbath, they say that all their children are gifts of God, but for the most
part you just help mamma in the kitchen and stay out of the way when adults are
doing things. There’s nothing special
about you. Or at least, there wasn’t
until now, because the glow of being singled out as special by Jesus is making
you blush.
Then Jesus says something else. He says that every time they make you feel
welcome, they make him feel welcome, and they even make God feel welcome. Wow.
Even when you make mistakes, even when you ask too many questions, even
when you feel sad and cry about little things, Jesus puts you right in the
middle and says they should, too.
Most of the time you feel pretty small. But not around Jesus you don’t! Could he just stay here?
For those of
you who’ve been using this time as a sort of guided meditation, I invite you to
gradually re-enter this worship space… take a couple of deep transitional
breaths… and open your eyes when you are ready.
Interestingly,
in Walter Wink’s method, participants are rarely if ever invited to play the
part of God or Jesus, because the heart of God, the compassion of our Lord
Jesus Christ, the intuition of the Holy
Spirit, are Holy Mysteries to us. We
see the wonderful impact of God in the world but I agree with the late Rev. Dr.
Wink: it would be a little bit presumptuous for us to pretend that we could see
this scene from the fullness of Christ’s perspective, even if we could play
some fun hunches in doing so.
To me, one
of the most important things we learn when we enter a Bible story in this way,
is that is our story, not their story. Yes, the events happened two millennia ago
in a culture and land far different from our own, but when Jesus says something
in scripture he is not just saying it to them – the folks who were there
first hand. The truth of what he is
saying is being said directly to us.
So when
Jesus puts a child in the middle of his disciples and tells them to take note,
he’s also speaking directly to us about our life assumptions. He is still facing us with the truth that
the way we treat any being who is vulnerable will be interpreted as our
treatment of our Lord. What we do to
look after the needs of children, newcomers to our land, the unemployed and
underemployed, the homeless and those who are unwelcome in their homes, even
the way we treat the land and water and air and our fellow creatures, are expressions
of what we really think of God. Jesus
was blunt and uncompromising on this point with his disciples. The more they fancied their own power, the
more he pushed them on this point, with Peter being pushed the hardest. As somewhat of a corollary, those who accept
their powerlessness – who do turn to Jesus with questions and doubts, who tell
him of their needs and their fear and their isolation - are always embraced as
God’s own beloved children.
In the same
way that the words of Jesus in scripture are being spoken to us, and not just
that original audience, the misunderstandings of those who loved him then
are our misunderstandings too.
The gospel
of Mark, in particular, paints a very unflattering picture of the disciples. If you read through the middle section of the
gospel, from ch.8 -10, you’ll encounter a veritable comedy of errors; the
disciples just do not seem capable of understanding the fullness of Jesus’
mission, even with a mountain of evidence. But Paul Achtemeier (p.105) asks an
important question: “can [this] be an accurate picture of the behaviour of the
twelve? If it is, one wonders how the Jesus traditions ever began.”
In the end,
11 of the 12 disciples, and countless other women and men who walked with
Jesus, did come through completely when it mattered, even under heavy
persecution. We don’t know if they really were slow to understand and act, but
we do know that in the end they showed great fidelity. And
when us disciples are a bit slow on the uptake, Jesus is patient and forgiving in these
matters, you know!
And that’s
important for us to hear, too. Honestly,
there are some times that I find myself thinking things, or saying things, or doing
things, or avoiding things, and it puts me 180 degrees contrary to the will of
God. In spite of all that Jesus has done
for me, in spite of all that Jesus plans to accomplish with me and through me, there
are numerous times in a week that I don’t show any greater understanding than
the disciples of the gospel of Mark. But
Jesus didn’t quit on them, and Jesus doesn’t quit on me. Everyone who has said a “yes” of any sort to
Jesus, is within the realm of those in whom Jesus has complete confidence. If we have the willingness to be transformed
by Christ, we will be transformed, no matter how much gracious forgiveness we
need, no matter how many re-starts and second chances it may take. In golf terms, Jesus gives us as many
mulligans as it takes to get it right.
We are the
disciples. We are the leaders. We are the children. And Christ is our Friend, our Protector, our
Teacher, and our Redeemer. Amen.
Works cited:
Achtemeier,
Paul J. Proclamation Commentary: Mark.
2nd edition. Philadelphia:
Fortress, 1988.
Wylie-Kellerman,
Bill, in Sojourners online blog:
http://sojo.net/blogs/2012/05/16/walter-wink-remembrance-and-reflection
Scripture
quotes are from The Message by Eugene
H. Peterson.
see also Fowler, Robert M. “Reader Response Criticism” in Mark and Method, Janice Capel Anderson and Stephen D. Moore,
eds. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress,
1992.
© 2012 Rev. Greg Wooley, Ralph Connor Memorial United Church, Canmore AB
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