Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | January 28, 2024

Mark 1:21-28

In the olden days there was a television commercial for a pain reliever that spawned a catch phrase, “I’m not a doctor, but I play one on t.v.” The idea was that because this actor portrayed a doctor on a soap opera, then we could trust his recommendation about treating our aches and pains. There was authority in that white coat and stethoscope, even if it was just for the sake of appearance.

Now the t.v. commercials are different. They show an ad for treating an ailment we may or may not have, along with the possible horrible side effects, and admonish us to, “Ask your doctor.” And today we think, “What do doctors know?” My cousin’s neighbor’s uncle has a friend who knows the real story, and he said…

We question authority. It’s what we do.

My father-in-law Perry Biddle, God rest his soul, was known for questioning authority. Not all authority, just mostly that of his daughter Lindsay. I’ve always known Lindsay as someone who knows things. She’s not a know-it-all, but she’s curious and well-read and there are some subjects that she knows a lot about.

One time she and her dad were visiting a museum. There was a display of Native American artifacts that included a tepee. Lindsay, in an off-hand way pointed out the difference between a tepee and wigwam. A tepee has an opening at the top for smoke to get out and a wigwam is enclosed. A simple, straightforward fact.

Her dad didn’t believe her. He went to the front desk at the museum and asked the people there if that was indeed true. They had no idea what he was talking about. There were other times when he would call the local library to confirm whether or not what she said was true. My approach is, if she tells me something, I respect what she says and I tend to take it as fact.

Jesus spoke with authority. That seems like a fairly obvious statement to us, but in his time and place for someone to speak from their own sense of authority was unusual. In those days the voice of authority in the religious tradition was based upon layers of scholarship. If a teacher were to teach on some point of truth, authorities would be cited, sources quoted and all the threads from history and tradition drawn together to say, “Therefore, this is what it means.”

Jesus came in and said, “This is what it means. I tell you and I say so.” What was astounding to people was not just that he would speak from his own sense of authority, but that he made sense with what he said. He told a clear and clean truth that wasn’t muddled up with a lot of musty old quotes from people long dead and longer forgotten.

One day Jesus was in a synagogue teaching. Telling stories, engaging people in conversation and unpacking the meaning of life. There was a man in the synagogue of whom it was said had an “unclean spirit.” Can we know what that meant? To the people in that time and place it meant that the man was possessed by a demon of some sort – an evil spirit that somehow managed to gain control. The man was possessed so he had to be set free.

Modern interpretation has gone on to say that people are possessed by all manner of unclean spirits. We can be possessed by greed or lust and we can be addicted to substances or unhealthy habits. Or modern interpretation has said that is how they viewed what we now recognize as mental illness. They guy wasn’t possessed, he was ill.

I think there are other ways to hear the story. If we listen to what the man said we gather some clues to his malady – “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.”

If the story had included a part where Jesus spoke to the unclean spirit and demanded to know its name, the answer could have been, “They call me Status Quo.”

What business is it of yours, Jesus? Are you trying to ruin everything we’ve built up? Are you trying to undo our traditions? Don’t you know we’ve always done it this way and what you suggest will never work? Who do you think you are?

Imagine the story as if the fellow was not wild-eyed and foaming-at-the-mouth. Think of him dressed in his best Sabbath outfit; a respected elder of the synagogue and a pillar of the community. He was all very reasonable and when Mr. Very Reasonable cries out, then people sit up and listen.

Years ago, Lindsay Biddle was asked to serve as the Minister Locum for a congregation that was between ministers. This congregation had a reputation that arose from its being in a community that was known for being somewhat, shall we say, posh. The folks in my parish had a saying about such places: “all hat and no knickers.” Granted, wherever you go people are people. But in this particular community there was a certain air of entitlement. The people expected certain things from their minister. One of which was that minister would not impose upon them with any sense of discomfort regarding their status quo.

The time came for Remembrance Day. Remembrance Day is a solemn occasion on the second Sunday of November when Britain honors its war dead. Every church holds a Remembrance Day worship service.

The event was to be rehearsed so that everyone got their parts right. I drove her to the church and sat off to the side and watched the rehearsal. Everyone was making a good effort to get their parts right. Where to stand, when to come forward, the order, the timing, the whole thing. More than once I heard Lindsay say, “Just tell me how you want it done. I’ve never done a Remembrance Day service and I want to make sure it’s done the way you want it.” And so they did.

Up to a point. There were a few details that folks neglected to mention, perhaps assuming that they would naturally fall into place; or that the congregation having observed Remembrance Day for as long as living memory would act according to tradition. At one point in the service a bugler sounds the “Last Post” which is followed by a two-minute silence.

When it came to the time of the two-minute silence, since no one had told Lindsay that people stand for the silence, she was not aware that you are supposed to stand for the silence and since she didn’t tell anyone to stand, no one stood up.

What followed was “a right kerfuffle.” There were angry letters to the session copied to the Minister Locum. There were letters to the Clerk of Presbytery and there were phone calls to the Minister Locum. “This is what happens when we get an American in here who doesn’t know about and who doesn’t care about our sacred traditions!” One woman even called to say, “We have to listen to your drivel every week, but this is a step too far!”

Have you come to destroy us? Things are fine just the way they are, Jesus. Why don’t you just stick to what you know – talk about sin and forgiveness. Tell us about the lilies of field or the birds of the air and leave matters of business and commerce to those who are the authorities in those fields. Leave our traditions alone.

What did Jesus do in response to the man who called him out?

He didn’t suggest, “Let’s take a survey and see what the congregation thinks.”

He didn’t say, “Let’s form listening teams and find out what the community needs.”

He didn’t say, “Let’s you and I sit down and share some dialogue on this subject.”

He said, for all intents and purposes, “Shut up and go away!”

There are times when truth has to be told. The powers and dominions by which systems of business, commerce politics and religion operate wish to maintain their hold. If you go along, you’ll be fine. But if you are unwilling to make certain accommodations, then you will get into trouble. Jesus didn’t die because he was misunderstood. He was well understood. Politics and religion just didn’t like what he had to say. The status quo nailed him to the cross.

The challenge of following Jesus is to bring the liberating power of the gospel to bear so that we can become the people God created us to be. I believe that when the church speaks in the voice of Jesus, people will be astounded and amazed.

In what ways have we accommodated ourselves to the powers of evil in our world? Violence, greed, consumerism, bigotry, fear, sexual exploitation, war. How have we decided to get along with these powers, so that we can lead a comfortable life?

Astound us, Jesus. Come into our midst and speak the words that bring life and liberation from all our fears. Amaze us with your power. Cast out the demons that hold us in their possession, so that we might be truly yours. Amen.