Two By Two

Jesus went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.  He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, "Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them."  So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent.  They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.   Mark 6:6-13  

Today Mark’s gospel remembers the first time that Jesus sent his disciples out on a missionary journey.  And what did he tell his disciples to do? 

He sent them out to meet new people on the road….  He told them to give each person a message: The kingdom of God has come near you…. He told them to pray for the sick and heal the troubled.    

It sounds like those people who come through my front gate, who ring my doorbell to share their faith, are just following Jesus’ instructions: Go meet new people, and tell them the good news. 

(It’s hard enough to open my door, to be kind to my visitors – who are strangers to me – and then politely say good-bye; how could I ever go door-to-door to share my faith?)

But the gospel says that Jesus’ disciples came back to tell him that many people received their message, and many were healed.  They had followed Jesus’ directions:  

            Take nothing for your journey.

            Dress simply.
            Stay with people in their homes.
            Tell them your good news.
            And always go two by two.

So today, I’m trying to imagine going off on a journey, sent by Jesus, following his directions.  I’m not trying to turn into a door-to-door salesman, going off to talk to people we’ve never met.   No, I’m picturing someone I know already – someone I care for, someone I’d like to comfort, someone who needs to hear good news.   

Everyone here knows someone who is asking questions about their faith. It could be one of your children…  It could be a good friend or a close neighbor….  It could be one of your grandchildren…. 

There are times in life when everyone has questions –  when we’re small children, first exploring the world;  when we’re adolescents, first stretching our growing minds; when we’re first retired and beginning to wonder about the rest of our lives; and any time trouble strikes – these are the times we need good news. 

So with a picture of someone in your mind, listen again to Jesus’ directions:

He says, take nothing for the journey –  because then you’ll have to depend on others.   Remember you aren’t the only person with something to give – everyone you meet will have something to share with you.    

Dress very simply – because dressing up may put distance between you and others.  You won’t want to wear – or say – anything that keeps you from getting to know people.      

Stay with people, accept their hospitality – because that’s the way you’ll get to know them; that’s the way people learn about each other, by sharing space with each other.    

Go two by two – because if you go with a friend, you’ll be able to help each other – and because Jesus said, “When two or three are gathered together, I will be there with you.”  You won’t be alone; the Spirit will be with you.  (Matthew 18:20)

And  once you’ve gotten to know someone – by staying with them, by listening to them, by loving them – then you can tell them your good news, because that’s your gift for others – what’s happened to you.

A modern missionary journey:  I have a friend who decided, when he was about 70 years old, to write a letter to his children.  He had five adult children, all with children of their own, and he wanted them to know what his faith meant to him now that he was getting old.  Especially, he wanted his children (and his grandchildren) to know what had helped him through the years, whenever his life had been difficult.    

It took my friend a very long time to write his letter. First, he had to find the words to describe what he had learned from life, and then he had to find the words to tell them what he believed about God.  But even after he found the words to express himself, he had to ask what those words might mean to each of his very different children.  All of his children had grown up in the Episcopal Church, but now one child was a Presbyterian.  One was an Evangelical.  One was a Mormon.  One had a strong faith in God, but didn’t have a church. And one was an adamant atheist.  What words could he write, what words could share his faith without trying to impose it on them?   

It took him more weeks to re-write his letter. And then, before he mailed his letters, he took copies to a couple of friends – and he asked them, “I’m trying to tell my children what life has taught me, and what my faith means to me.  Will you read this letter and tell me what you think?” 

My friend was proceeding two-by-two.  That is, he didn’t write his letter all by himself.  He tried to listen to the Spirit speaking in his heart; and he went to others, to hear their thoughts and ideas.

It’s been more than ten years since my friend mailed the final version of his letter to his children.  I called him yesterday afternoon, to find out what had happened with his children in the years since his letter was mailed.  (He’s now 82 years old, and the first thing he told me was that he’s thinking about writing a new letter to his children.)

As we talked, he remembered what each of his children had said when they received the letter – and what had happened when they had read it to their own children.   But this is what really struck me yesterday:  As he talked about each of his children, he remembered what he had learned from them. And when he spoke about each of his children, one by one, he said that each was still growing in his or her own way.  It was clear, from his words and his voice, that his letter had begun a conversation about faith, a family conversation that still continues today.  

Isn’t that what Jesus is really asking his disciples?  Start your own conversation about faith.  Go out into your life – and get to know the people in it.  Love those people; give what you can to them; receive what they have to give you; try to bring them healing – and always remember, as you walk through your life, that you’re never alone on your journey.

And whenever the time is right for someone,

share the good news with them: 

You are never alone; God is always with you.

A homily preached at St. Benedict’s Episcopal Church on July 8, 2012

Who did Jesus heal?

The Woman with a Hemorrhage

Painting by Louis Glanzman

from the Gospel for Sunday, July 1:  Now there was a woman who had been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years. She had endured much under many physicians, and had spent all that she had; and she was no better, but rather grew worse. She had heard about Jesus, and came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, for she said, "If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well." Immediately her hemorrhage stopped; and she felt in her body that she was healed of her disease. Immediately aware that power had gone forth from him, Jesus turned about in the crowd and said, "Who touched my clothes?" And his disciples said to him, "You see the crowd pressing in on you; how can you say, `Who touched me?'" He looked all around to see who had done it. But the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came in fear and trembling, fell down before him, and told him the whole truth. He said to her, "Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease."       Mark 5:25-34  

 

A parable of a cane:

 I now have a very unreliable knee … It doesn’t really hurt a lot, but it goes out from underneath me – and so I’ve started walking with a cane (or more accurately, a trekking pole).  On the good side, the cane helps me stay balanced, and makes it easier for me to walk around …. On the other hand, the cane labels me – it makes me feel different; it marks me as someone with an infirmity. (I noticed I felt better last Sunday, because I wasn’t the only one at St. Ben’s with a cane!) 

Whether it’s a knee – or your hip, or your child’s illness, or your friend’s cancer, whatever is wrong with us – we want it to be healed.  We want a doctor, or a therapist, or God, to fix us – to take away the pain, to take away the disease. But our problem is more than physical; we also need people, we need to be part of a community.   

Over the years, I’ve noticed that when I’m depressed, my first instinct is to stay away from other people.  And, over the years, I’ve noticed that when something is wrong with my body – my shoulder, my knee – my first instinct is to stay home.  (Maybe you go through this, too.)  Yet we need to belong, we need to be reminded that people care for us, we need to know that we are included in their circle of love. Sometimes that means screwing up our courage and going out among people to ask for help, even if our illness makes it really difficult. That’s what the woman with the hemorrhage did.  (Maybe she used a cane!)

Think of the Middle Eastern crowds you see in the news – those large crowds of shouting, pushing men. There are very few – if any – women in those crowds.  The woman with a hemorrhage didn’t belong in that crowd; it wasn’t safe for her, and she wasn’t wanted – not only was she a woman, she was bleeding.  The rules said that bleeding made her impure; she was supposed to stay away – not just from the crowds, but from synagogues and even family gatherings.  Think of it – the gospel says she had been suffering for 12 years – that’s 12 years of bleeding, and 12 years of isolation.

When we first read this story, this woman seems typical of the people who came to Jesus for healing – she has a mysterious illness, and then Jesus gives her a mysterious cure.  (Actually, this woman’s story is one of the stories that Thomas Jefferson cut out of his Bible – because he couldn’t explain – and he couldn’t believe in  – these healings, these miracles.)  But in the first century this healing wouldn’t have surprised the people around Jesus, because there were many spiritual healers in his day.  What really surprised the people around Jesus was this: it was not how, but who got healed.

Who needed healing in Jesus’ society? 

All kinds of people came to Jesus for healing: the blind, the lame, the deaf; the mentally ill; lepers; and those close to death from many diseases. 

Today we know more about the causes of these physical problems. We understand the origins of blindness, leprosy, uncontrolled menstrual bleeding, childhood infections and all the diseases that were mysteries in the first century.  But we have forgotten something that the people of Jesus’ society believed: All those illnesses and physical conditions made people impure –sickness forced people to the margins of their society. They had been taught that to be sick, to be imperfect, to be marred in some way, violated God’s command: You shall be holy [that is, exclusive and whole], for I the Lord your God am holy (Lev. 19:2).    

Sickness was seen as a flaw in God’s perfect creation – and it was usually seen as the sick person’s fault.  When someone was sick, people believed that God had sent the illness, for a divine purpose – or as a punishment for sins.  

Today we know that sickness results from flaws in the body’s systems (heart, mind, cancers), or from battles waged by hostile organisms (bacteria, viruses).  But old ways of thinking still persist. (Don’t we often ask ourselves, ‘Why did God do this to me? What did I do wrong?’)

Who could heal people in Jesus’ time?  There was little medical knowledge, and there were no doctors. Anytime a person was healed, it was seen as a miracle – and a miracle of healing always came from God, sometimes through people with gifts of healing. The gospels show us that Jesus was seen as one of those healers.    

Today we know trained medical agents – people who have studied the human body and diseases – as our healers.  Even when a disease cannot be healed, we still anticipate that someday (soon) modern healers will understand cancers and viruses and mental illnesses and be able to fix them.   But even today, don’t we still pray for the sick?  (Why do we ask God for help – unless we still think God has a fundamental role to play in healing?)

Besides losing their health, the sick in Jesus’ time were also excluded from society.

It didn’t matter whether they were contagious or not.   The mentally ill were sent away from their villages; lepers had to stay away from the healthy; bleeding women had to stay in their homes.   

Today we know that sickness is not a sign of God’s rejection.  Even when the disease is seen as contagious and the person must be isolated, the community usually regards them as full  members. and prays for God’s help and intervention.  But old ways of thinking still persist: remember, 30 years ago, our culture’s reaction to the first people with AIDS.  Surely it was their fault! 

Today when healing occurs, we tend to think that people are restored to themselves – we might say “they’re back to their old selves” – now they can go on with their lives.   But does our modern individualism really reflect our human reality?  We tend to forget that full health means belonging to a community. 

There is a deep Biblical truth hiding under the surface of today’s gospel story:  God has made human beings for community, and it is only when we belong to community that we can find true health and wholeness.

Think about what this Gospel story tells us:

This woman was supposed to stay home, but she went out into the crowd anyway – and when she touched Jesus, she was healed.  But notice what else that happened: Jesus accepted this woman – he accepted her fully.  Instead of noting that she had broken a religious rule, he noted her courage and her faith.  And he told her, “Daughter, your faith has made you whole; go in peace.” 

So the gospel stories of healing tell us much more than, “Jesus heals the sick.”  Gospel stories like this one are gradually teaching Christians – and it’s taking us many centuries to learn this lesson – that God’s healing is for everyone – for the rich and the poor; for men and for women; for Jews and for Gentiles; for slaves as well as the free.

Think again about what the story tells us:  Because we’ve heard so many stories of Jesus’ healings, we’re not surprised that he doesn’t ask for payment.  (To use today’s language about medicine, Jesus doesn’t ask for insurance papers; and he’s not going to send her a bill.)  

But we should be surprised that Jesus is willing to spend time with this outsider, this poor woman on the margins of her society.  Here’s the gospel surprise: By his actions and by his words, Jesus is saying God’s healing is for everyone.  He is saying there are not ‘insiders’ and ‘outsiders’ but one community that includes everyone. 

We won’t see how radical Jesus was until we see how he was expected to act:

He was expected to prefer people who followed the rules. (It was believed that the religious rules kept the whole community safe and holy.)

He was expected to prefer the rich over the poor. (The rich obviously had more power – but they were also believed to be blessed by God.)

He was expected to spend time with men, and not with women. (Women, even when they were healthy, were supposed to stay at home.)

He was expected to spend time with adults, and not with children. (Children, of course, were thought to be much  less important than adults).

And yet – he responded to them all. 

Today, we Americans are still arguing about health-care.  

We are still asking the age-old question: How do we heal the sick?  And even when we know how to cure an illness, we are still asking  the question, how do we pay for it? 

But we’re also asking another old question:  Who is worthy of care?   Is it just hard-working adults with good jobs?  Maybe we should add our children, still too young to be self-sufficient?   Maybe we should we include the elderly, most of whom worked hard for a living?   Who is worthy of care?

Among all the arguments, all the points of view, all the words spoken this week, came this telling phrase from a talk-radio host, who labeled the poor as ‘the moocher class’  when he said, “I am so sick to death of the destruction of this great country by the moocher class.”

Think of it:  Was the woman with a hemorrhage part of the ‘moocher class’? She had no money, she didn’t work, and her bleeding excluded her from her community.  Was she not worthy of care, not worthy of healing?  

Think of it: In our own society, how many people are thought to be in the ‘moocher class’?  How many people are labeled as ‘not worthy of care’?

Jesus told another parable, in which someone asked a king: “When was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”  And the king answered them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:39-40)

Today’s gospel story makes me want to ask some new questions about healing.

I’m no longer asking the question, How did Jesus heal?   Because I think this is the question that really needs answering:  Who is worthy of healing in today’s society?  The gospel gives us the answer: Everyone is worthy – no exceptions.   

And I’m also thinking, even in this modern era when we have great doctors, and good hospitals, and fantastic medical researchers – in this era when we have an ability to heal that Jesus himself would have envied – we ourselves are in great need of God’s deepest healing. 

We need God to open our hearts and minds to the good news – which is not only that God loves us, but that God wants us to love others without barriers, without distinctions, without limits.   In fact, God wants us to love in the same way as Jesus loves:

If we but touch his clothes, we will be made well.

cf Mark 5:28

Jesus Last Supper

As we have walked through the last week of Jesus’ life, guided by Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan in their book, “The Last Week,” we have seen how carefully Jesus planned his entrance into Jerusalem. While we may have always thought of “Palm Sunday” as Jesus’ triumphant arrival in the holy city, his entrance was meant to be in deliberate contrast to triumphant Roman military parades: Jesus was coming to Jerusalem in the name of a very different kingdom.

Now we come to Thursday of Holy Week, and we see that Jesus also carefully planned his Last Supper with his disciples. As the host at this Supper, Jesus would help his disciples look back to events in his public ministry – and he would also point them forward, beyond his death into the future. So while we may call this meal the “Last Supper”, Borg and Crossan say it is also “the First Supper of the future.”

That Supper has many levels of meaning, for the disciples and for us.

The Last Supper was a continuation of Jesus’ everyday meals. Wherever he went, he welcomed outcasts and sinners to his table, and was roundly criticized for violating the social rules of his day. “He eats with sinners” – how often do the gospels tell us this? (Mark 2:15f)

As the First Supper, what does Jesus’ inclusion of sinners and outcasts mean to us? Who is included in the ongoing Suppers of our own faith communities?

The Last Supper recalled Jesus’ feeding of the 5,000 – where he took the bread that was available, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to everyone. Mark’s gospel tells us all were filled – no one was left out. (Mark 6:45f) Mark also tells us that there was another meal for thousands – the feeding of 4,000 in the gentile territories of the Decapolis. (Mark 8:1f) In both instances, Jesus fed everyone who was there, without questions, without qualifications. In both feedings, also, Jesus called upon his disciples to help feed the people, telling them, “You give them something to eat.”(Mark 6:37)

As the First Supper, what does Jesus’ feeding of everyone mean to us? In the ongoing Suppers of our churches, how do we share our meal with others beyond our own intimate communities?

The Last Supper was a Passover meal. Every Passover, Jews around the world and throughout the ages have been commanded to celebrate their release from the domination of the Egyptian Pharaoh. As a Passover meal, Jesus’ Last Supper would remind his disciples that in Jesus’ kingdom they were being delivered from slavery into freedom. The Supper brought the long-ago deliverance from Egypt into the present: God always desires to liberate us.

As the First Supper, what does Jesus’ remembrance of the Exodus mean to us? In the ongoing Suppers of our own churches, how are we being equipped to celebrate and share our freedoms with others?

The Last Supper pointed to Jesus’ coming sacrifice. He took up the bread, just as he had done at the feeding of the 5,000. But he then identified the bread with his own body, which was about to be broken on the cross. As he lifted the cup, he spoke of his blood, which was about be poured out in his death. For the disciples, and for us, there is no escaping Jesus’ meaning: his death was upon him. But what would his death mean? Borg and Crossan believe that his sacrifice would not be a substitution – that is, it would not be a punishment for the sins of others. Rather, it was to be the binding sacrifice, the spiritual communion, that would make God’s love, God’s inclusiveness, God’s empowerment, available to all.

As the First Supper, how do our Communion meals bind us together in sacrifice, in commitment to making God’s inclusiveness, God’s empowerment, God’s love, available to all?

Jesus’ Suppers are about God’s justice. Every meal Jesus shared – from dinner in the house of a tax collector, to the loaves and fishes distributed in Galilee, to the bread and wine distributed in Jerusalem – made God’s justice present. In every meal, Jesus was demonstrating that all of us, rich or poor, family or stranger, religiously observant or not, are guests on this earth created by God – and if we are invited to God’s Table, so also is everyone else in God’s creation. So the Supper is not about who belongs – it is about everyone belonging.

Jesus’ Suppers are about God’s sacrificial love. The Last Supper also pointed to sacrifice: Jesus was about to die a violent death from human injustice. God did not demand that Jesus die as a punishment for our sins; but Jesus was willing to die to show the lengths to which God’s love – and God’s call for justice – will go. Jesus' death was not to bring about a magical wiping away of the world’s sin; it was instead a deadly confrontation with the world’s sin, which would demonstrate the road to liberation from sin. So the Supper is not just about Jesus’ facing death for us – it is also about our facing death for others, in the Name of Justice, in the Name of Love.

In the First Suppers of our own faith communities, what does it mean to share bread and wine in Communion – this sacred meal of inclusion, of service, of sharing and of sacrifice? By participating in this meal, will we find comfort and inclusion, but escape our own sacrifice? No, Borg and Crossan write, we must understand that our First Suppers are not only about Jesus’ sacrifice, but our own. We have been called to participate in Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. If we live with him – if we are to live in him, then we must go forward with him.

What do we mean by “going forward” with Jesus?

If we are in Christ, we are embraced in his inclusiveness – and we therefore embrace others.

If we are in Christ, we are served by his love – and reach out to serve others.

If we are in Christ, we celebrate our own liberation – and we reach out to help liberate others.

If we are in Christ, we are included in his sacrifice – and we sacrifice ourselves for others.

From Borg and Crossan, one last time: “It is by participation with Jesus, and in Jesus, that his followers were to pass through death to resurrection, from the domination life of human normalcy to the servant life of human transcendence... The Last Supper is about bread for the world, God’s justice against human injustice, a New Passover from bondage to liberation, and participation in the path that leads through death to new life.” ("The Last Week," p. 120)

Does this understanding of Christianity give you a faith that empowers you to live for the world, as Jesus did?

Jesus and the Cross

As we move through Mark’s story of Jesus, guided by Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan in their book, “The Last Week,” we are coming to the last day of the last week, when Jesus will pick up his cross and carry it to his death on Golgotha.

Three times in Mark’s gospel, Jesus predicted his death, and each time he also called his disciples to follow him on the way: He began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.... If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Mark 8:31-34

Christ died for our sins: Most Christians today understand Jesus’ death on the cross as his sacrifice for our sins. First articulated by St. Anselm in the 12th century, this explanation of the crucifixion has been called the theory of “substitutionary theory” of atonement – that is, Jesus substituted himself for us on the cross, taking upon himself the punishment that is justly ours. The substitutionary theory goes like this:

God is perfectly just.

God is also perfectly loving.

Because of God’s perfect justice, God cannot overlook human sins.

Because of God’s perfect love, God provides the necessary sacrifice.

God’s forgiveness is now freely available to all who accept Christ.

But is this image of God – God the impassionate Judge, who sends his own innocent son to pay for the crimes of the guilty – is this the same God whom Jesus proclaimed and embodied?

Christ became like us so we could become like him. There is another, much earlier explanation of Jesus’ death on the cross – we might call it the “mystical theory” of atonement. In the 2nd century, St. Irenaeus – building on the writings of St. Paul – wrote, Because of his measureless love Christ became what we are in order for us to become what he is. This idea was repeated again and again in early Christian sermons and writings:

In his incarnation, Christ became one with us.

In his life and teaching, Christ showed that he was one of us.

In his death, Christ united with us in our death.

In Christ’s new life, we become one with him in his resurrection.

Come, follow me: In Mark’s story, Jesus asks his disciples, again and again, to follow him – to come with him, to share his ministry, to participate in his mission. Borg and Crossan comment on Jesus’ call to his disciples to “take up your cross and follow me” by writing, “Nothing is said about Jesus’ doing it alone to excuse everyone else from having to follow him...” ("The Last Week," p. 95)

Borg and Crossan use the word “participation” to describe what happens when we respond to Jesus’ call to join him in his mission. The description of “participatory atonement” that Borg and Crossan find in Mark’s gospel is very close to the mystical theory held by Paul and Irenaeus and others in the early church.

When writing about the mystical union, the bond that Christ makes with us, Paul frequently uses the phrase “in Christ.” To the Romans, Paul wrote, do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? (Romans 6:3) To the Galatians, Paul wrote: “for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. (Galatians 3:26)

But Mark’s story shows us that the disciples did not understand. As Jesus was shouldering his cross, almost all of them were so afraid they ran away. How could they participate in Jesus’ mission, how could they ever be united with him, if they could not even stay with him to the end?

How did they learn what it means to be in Christ?

How were they transformed into bold disciples who shared Christ’s mission?

Jesus' Unnamed Disciple

If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. (Mark 8:34f)

Over and over again, Jesus told his disciples that following him will call for great sacrifice – on his part, and on theirs as well. In "The Last Week", Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan put it this way: “To follow Jesus means to accept the cross, to walk with him against imperial violence and religious collaboration, and to pass through death to resurrection.”

But Jesus’ disciples didn’t seem to understand what it would mean to follow him. One of the running themes in Mark’s gospel is their continuing confusion – even their obtuseness. Time and time again the disciples don’t understand his teaching, his parables about the Kingdom, or even direct statements such as “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him....” (Mark 9:31).

And twice, after Jesus makes clear statements about his approaching death, they argue among themselves – not about how to find the strength to follow Jesus, but about which of them would be the greatest when his Kingdom was finally established. While Jesus called them to have the humility of servants, at least some of the disciples saw themselves as future rulers, like the lords and kings they knew in the gentile world. But it was that same world of domination and oppression that Jesus was confronting in Jerusalem.

One disciple, Judas, would decide to collaborate with the religious authorities, betraying Jesus. Note that Mark doesn’t give us a reason for Judas’ betrayal but simply records it, in the process pointing to Judas as the model of an unfaithful disciple. In opposition to the choice Judas makes, there is another follower who shows true discipleship: an unnamed woman who, with other women, had also followed Jesus on the way.

This woman came with a jar of costly ointment and poured the fragrant oil over Jesus’ head. The other disciples scolded her for wasting the costly ointment, but Jesus said, “Let her alone... She has performed a good service for me... She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial...” (Mark 14:3f)

This unnamed woman seems to have been the first to understand what he was saying: On the way to the Kingdom, Jesus was going to die. After her anointing Jesus said to them all: "Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” (Mark 14:9).

It is ironic that history has forgotten the name of this woman who was held up by Jesus as the model disciple. Borg and Crossan write: “She is, for us, the first Christian. And she believed the word of Jesus before any discovery of an empty tomb. Furthermore, her action was a graphic demonstration of the leadership model Jesus called for...”

The unnamed woman was a model disciple: trusting in Jesus’ word, fearless of the consequences, and serving not in power but in humility. What would have happened if the early church took this unnamed woman as its model for true discipleship?

If we followed her example, what would the church look like today?

If we followed her example, how could we challenge the domination systems of our own time?

Jesus and Taxes

They sent some Pharisees and some Herodians to trap him... And they came and said to him: “...Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” Mark 12:13f

As we read through Mark’s gospel, we become aware of how many times the Pharisees and others leaders argued with Jesus, trying to trap him into saying something that would cause trouble – with the Pharisees, with the Roman occupiers, or even with the crowds. Their badgering of Jesus reminds me of the press corps which follows every modern political leader – always asking sharp questions, always hoping to catch a politician in a mistake, always looking for a new story to feed a controversy.

Over the centuries Christians have often interpreted these debates between the authorities and Jesus as arguments between the old, rule-bound religion of the Jews and the new, love-centered religion of the Christians. What we frequently haven’t understood is that Jesus was not teaching a new religion, but reminding the people and their religious authorities of what their traditional religion had always taught.

Now the religious leaders sought to trip up Jesus with a question about taxes. No one ever wants to pay taxes, so the problem of taxes remains a hot topic for us today. We still ask the same questions: Why do I have to pay taxes? (It’s my hard-earned money – so why should I share it with the government?) Is it to pay for services needed by the whole society? Does it go to provide support for the needy? Or does it go to line the pockets of our leaders?

Imagine how much more resentment we would feel if our taxes went not to our own elected leaders, but to a foreign occupying power. Now can we begin to imagine how Israel’s people felt, knowing that God called for the poor and needy to be cared for, but seeing their religious leaders currying favor with the occupying Romans instead?

They sent some Pharisees and some Herodians to trap him... Jesus and his disciples were in the courtyard of the Jerusalem temple, the center of Israel’s religion. Faithful Jews came to the temple to worship and make offerings to God, according to the commandments and customs of their faith. Their second commandment told them, You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. (Exodus 20:4) But unlike the broader commandments to care for the poor and needy, this commandment was strictly observed by the nation’s religious leaders. When Jews came to the temple for worship, they had to exchange their ordinary money (a Roman coin, used throughout the empire) for a temple coin, suitable for a holy offering.

So when the pharisees questioned Jesus about taxes, he asked them to show him a coin. And they did – one of them took a Roman denarius out of his pocket and held it in his palm. To Jesus, and to the crowd surrounding him, the sight must have been striking: Right there in their palms, the religious leaders were holding engraved images of Caesar.

The image of Caesar in the Pharisee’s palm was a sign not only of religious hypocrisy, but of political collaboration with an occupying power. Why were these religious leaders – so scrupulous about their piety, so demanding of correct religious observance – carrying images of Caesar into the temple itself? Jesus had exposed their hypocrisy: they claimed to strictly observe the law, but they themselves were breaking it. And it was not just the little law they were breaking (using the right kind of money in the temple), but the larger law (to care for the poor and needy).

Money is always a powerful symbol. It stands for our accumulated wealth, our current income, and our material possessions. We use money to represent the income we receive – whether that income derives from a job or an inheritance, whether it represents a fair share of society’s goods or an unjust portion. The pharisees and other religious leaders were only a very small minority of Israel’s people, but they had by far the greatest amount of property, possessions, and power within their society. Much of their income came from an unfair distribution of Israel’s resources, and some of it even represented pay for collaborating with the Romans.

Money is always a powerful symbol. Like the ancient Roman Empire, our cities, states and nation require us to pay taxes. What does our tax money go for? And like the ancient Jewish temple, churches today take our money – cash, coin, check, and even (in some places) credit cards. Whether cash or coin, that money bears pictures of our presidents and other political leaders; our churches take the money to the bank without any questions.

The pictures engraved on the money are no longer a problem for the church, but Jesus’ questions are still valid today:

Does the money I think of as “mine” represent a fair share of society’s riches?

Do I use my money to advance God’s kingdom of peace and justice, or do I allow it to be used to support a political and economic system which is contrary to my religious ideals?

Jesus’ Prophetic Acts

Jesus entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple..... He was teaching and saying “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’? But you have made it a den of robbers....” Mark 11:17

When Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey, surrounded by crowds of peasants, his motley parade made a sharp contrast to the Romans’ military procession into the city in the very same week. We might call Jesus’ entrance a dramatic symbol of “God’s politics” thrust into the politics of the Roman world: Jesus’ procession represented a kingdom that would not allow the few to dominate the many, the rich to exclude the poor, or religion to sanctify an oppressive regime.

When Jesus entered the temple the next day and began chasing out the merchants and the money-changers, he was again engaged in a prophetic action which – by word and deed – thrust the values of God up against the values represented by temple religion.

We need to understand that it was not the merchants and the money-changers who were flouting God’s will. These merchants were necessary for the temple’s normal functioning. The money-changers helped Jewish pilgrims pay the temple tax; other merchants provided animals suitable for the temple sacrifice. What did flout the will of God was the collaboration between the temple’s authorities – the nation’s religious leaders – and the Roman occupation. The priests, and all of Israel’s religious authorities, were responsible to God and to their people for the temple’s worship and sacrifice. But they were also responsible to the Roman authorities to keep the peace and their own people under control. The religious leaders of Israel had divided hearts – their loyalty was not to God’s kingdom, but to their own safety and prosperity.

Half a millennium before Jesus, the great prophets were already protesting the misuse of the temple for ends other than God’s. Jeremiah prophesied,

If you truly amend your ways and your doings, if you truly act justly one with another, if you do not oppress the alien, the orphan, and the widow, or shed innocent blood in this place, and if you do not go after other gods to your own hurt, then I will dwell with you in this place.... Has this house, which is called by my name, become of den of robbers in your sight? Jeremiah 7:5f

After contrasting the actions of the temple with the demands of God, Jeremiah goes on to proclaim,

Go now to my place that was in Shiloh, where I made my name dwell at first, and see what I did to it for the wickedness of my people Israel. And now, because you have done all these things, says the Lord, and when I spoke to you persistently, you did not listen, and when I called you, you did not answer, therefore I will do to the house that is called by my name...just what I did to Shiloh. Jeremiah 7:12f

Borg and Crossan, in "The Last Week", help us understand that Jesus’ cleansing of the temple follows the prophetic tradition of Jeremiah. In Jesus’ day as in Jeremiah’s, the leaders of the temple were not offering true worship to God through care for the orphans, the widows, or the poor of Israel; they were not putting God’s justice first. Rather, they were hoping that the temple’s rituals could take the place of genuine justice. Because they themselves worshiped “properly”, and because they helped their people worship “properly” by the proper words and deeds in the temple, they thought they could escape God’s judgment for their actions (and inaction) outside the temple.

But just as Jeremiah’s words and actions forecast the destruction of the first temple in 586 B.C., so Jesus’ words and actions symbolically forecast the destruction of Herod’s magnificent second temple in 70 A.D.

Borg and Crossan write this about Jesus’ prophetic words and actions in Jerusalem that last week: Those action-word combinations proclaim the already present kingdom of God against both the Roman imperial power and the Jewish high-priestly collaboration. Jerusalem had to be retaken by a nonviolent messiah rather than by a violent revolution, and the temple ritual had to empower justice rather than excuse one from it. What is involved for Jesus is an absolute criticism not only of violent domination, but of any religious collaboration with it. In that criticism, of course, he stands with the prophets of Israel.... but he also stands against those forms of Christianity that were used throughout the centuries to support imperial violence and injustice.

Here is, quite literally, the “crux” of the matter for us today:

Where in our world do religious leaders still help to justify political domination by a minority, or support economic systems which oppress the poor?

Where in our nation, state or county does religious worship help excuse the political domination or economic oppression that exists in our own culture?

Does our own worship empower justice? That is, does our worship encourage us to act justly not just in our personal lives but also as citizens of towns, counties, states and nations?

I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.... Take away from me the noise of your songs; I will not listen to the melody of your harps. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Amos 5:21f