October 3rd Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Mark 10: 2–16, 
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord our strength and our redeemer.  Amen.

A couple of weeks ago when the clergy of this Diocese met at the Cathedral of Saint Philip for a day of sharing, we began the day with Eucharist in the sanctuary.  And right in the middle of that service there was an especially moving moment, I imagine for all of us.  As we came forward for Communion, instead of having us kneel side by side at the rail, as we would have ordinarily, Bishop Wright met us individually at the bottom of the chancel steps.  As each of us approached him he placed his hands on our heads and made the sign of the cross on our foreheads with sacred oil saying, “Remember who and whose you are.”  Then we fanned out on either side to receive the Communion bread from priests stationed in the chancel.
“Remember who and whose you are.”  Those words still ring in my ears, for I do know to whom I belong.  I do know who created me . . . in love and for love.  And I know he created you – in love and for love, as well.  That common origin makes us siblings, siblings to each other, forever linked in the family of God – because God knows it is not good for people to be alone.  God knows that our lives are better when we cooperate and work together harmoniously.  So just as we were set – as children – in the midst of families, so we’ve been set as adults in marriages, partnerships with one another.  As well as in loving fellowships like this church.  And God hopes we will now honor the deep bonds between us – as we work harmoniously with one another for the world he once envisioned.  That, anyway, was God’s plan when he created humankind in the Garden of Eden.
But in the world Jesus came to, harmonious relationships were hardly the rule of the day.  Instead, division seemed to rule the day.  There was the obvious division between Roman oppressors and all the people they oppressed.  But there were also deep divisions between men and women, free and slave, Jew and Gentile, rich and poor.  Even within Judaism there were divisions – between Pharisees and Sadducees, Essenes and Zealots – to name just a few of the splinter sects.
So no wonder, when Jesus began his ministry he proclaimed his agenda was to bring healing to these divisions – to bring the poor back into fellowship with the rich, to bring wholeness and wellbeing to any who had been bruised, to set the prisoner free.  And these were just a few of the divisions he had come to heal.
But the Pharisees who have come to listen to Jesus this morning in Mark’s Gospel have no such healing agenda in mind.  They claim they want to hear from this young rabbi – but, in fact, they have come to discredit him.  For this young upstart, this know–it–all carpenter from backwater Galilee, has become a threat to their social and religious position in the community.  So on this day they are asking him questions designed to embarrass him, designed to put him on the spot in front of the crowd.
So they’ve concocted a question about divorce, which in Jesus’ day was the hot button issue.  They ask him, “Rabbi, is it lawful for a man to send his wife away?”  Of course, they knew the answer.  Moses had told them long ago that divorce was allowed, even within the Law.  But in Jesus’ day there were two schools of thought in the legal community about what constituted a legitimate divorce.  One group said a man could divorce his wife only on the grounds of adultery.  The other held he could send his wife away simply if she displeased him — maybe for burning his toast in the morning.  The Pharisees figured if they could just get Jesus to come down on one side or the other of the debate, he would offend the other faction.
But Jesus isn’t having any part of their divisive scheme.  He simply won’t betray God’s hope for loving relationships among us by falling into their trap.  Instead, he reminds them that Adam’s recognition of Eve as ‘bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh’ is actually a profound statement about the interconnectedness of the whole human family.  And you would think that that clever answer was the end of the matter.
But Mark is an amazing storyteller.  He would much rather show us something than explain it at length.  So just at that moment, before Jesus can say another word about divorce, a great commotion breaks out all around them.  People are bringing their babies, their small children to Jesus so he can touch them and bless them.  But the disciples are trying to shoo them away.  Can’t they see that Jesus is busy?  Can’t they see that he’s talking with important religious officials and has no time for squalling infants?  In the resulting pandemonium – with children wailing, parents pleading and disciples trying to hush them all up – Jesus speaks.
“Don’t send them away,” he says.  “Don’t forbid them to come to me.  Welcome them in, for children like these – small ones, vulnerable ones – are at the very center of the Kingdom of God.”
Did you catch that connection? Did you catch the parallel in this story between a man sending his wife away and the disciples sending the children away?  I have to admit that I didn’t — not at first anyway.  But whenever I can’t get it, whenever I sense I must be missing something in a passage, I finally take the trouble to translate the passage from the Greek.  And sure enough, there it was – a play on words between ‘send them away’ and ‘divorce.’  In Greek it’s the same word – apolusai – (apolusai).  And once I was finally able to figure that one out, I could also see the parallels between this story and some of the stories Mark has been telling us these last few weeks.
For as he walks towards Jerusalem and the sure fate that awaits him there, Jesus is giving his disciples his best wisdom, his final lessons that will carry them into their own ministries, once he has vanished from their sight.  Maybe he knows they won’t catch it this time.  But maybe he also knows that — just like me, maybe like you too — they’ll finally understand.  They will finally catch what he’s been saying to them all along.
He’s telling them – and teaching them by example — that the whole purpose of the Law is to show love and respect to others – especially the most vulnerable in their midst.  So women and children have to be protected and cared for.  The poor, the stranger — refugees too –they all have worth in God’s sight.  For they are all members of God’s extended family, just as the disciples are.  And every last member of the family can become agents of God’s love in this world, agents of transformation in God’s dream.
Is it still possible? Of course it is – even in a world as deeply divided as ours has now become.  If we remember who and whose we are.  If we realize our Lord is just waiting for us to minister alongside him – to heal the many divisions in our world.  It is still possible.  By God’s grace it has always been possible.  Maybe St. Francis put it best, some 900 years ago:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.  Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury,  pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.  Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.  For it is in giving that we receive.  It is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Amen.
 
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