Sermon by Reverend Dr. John W. Mann | July 7, 2024

Mark 6:1-13

When I am out and about, I try to dress for the occasion. Whether working in the yard, going to the store, or leading a worship service, I try to dress in clothes that are fit for purpose. My wife Lindsay buys her clothes at second hand stores. She’s not a shopaholic by any means, but she finds bargains galore of quality and stylish clothing. Used men’s clothing is a different matter. Guys tend to wear their stuff until it is worn out. So I buy new.

When I moved to Scotland, I learned that ministers are expected to dress a certain way. When leading worship, one wears a worship robe and a clergy stole. Some ministers over there went all in with cassocks and old timey frills. Early on, one of the kind souls told me, “We like our minister to dress like a minister.”

One minister wrote posted on a social media forum complaining about ministers who don’t look like ministers. As the story goes: It used to be that you could pick us out of a crowd. When we were out and about in the community we dressed in dark suits and wore distinctive clergy collars. Even if not on official business, just going to the shops, we stood out from the crowd. Nowadays ministers look like anyone else. The Kirk has lost its presence in society. We should be proud of who we are.

The uniform was like a uniform – dark suit, dark clergy shirt, either blue or black. The white tab in the collar. And often a facial expression that could be read as, “I deal with such misery that it has stuck to me.”

I dressed like a minister when official duty called for it – leading a worship service, conducting a funeral or wedding, paying a hospital visit or some other type of visit when I was there officially as the minister. The uniform goes a long toward not having to explain who I am and why I am there.

Usually I would put the uniform on at the last minute. One time I needed to visit someone to make funeral arrangements. I rode a bus near to where they lived and as I walked up to the building of flats, I buttoned the top button of my shirt and inserted the white plastic tab into the collar. Now I looked like a minister.

After the visit in the lift back down I took the tab out and unbuttoned my collar. There were a few people standing around outside the building – smoking and talking – and they mistook me for a housing official. One guy belligerently asked me, “When am I gonnae get my flat?!”

Had I not removed my clergy collar they might have recognized me as a minister. They might have said something different or nothing at all.

One time I thought, “Oh why not? I conducted an experiment where for a few days I went around dressed like a Church of Scotland minister. What I discovered was that the clergy uniform is like an open invitation to conversation. Everywhere I went people started conversations or simply said, “Hello.”

One woman on a bus said, “It’s so nice to see a minister dressed like a minister.”

One guy on the street, after telling me his problems kissed my hand and said, “Thank you, Father.”

Being “on” requires a certain amount of emotion energy. Some people get a charge out of being “on.” For me as an introvert it was a drain on my emotional reserves. I went back to flying under the radar.

What I see from the perspective of normal dress is more honesty from people. The same people who might say, “Bless you minister,” will speak a different language. I see them and hear them as they are in real life, not when they are trying to engage, impress or avoid me because they see the minister.

Having a choice as to how I make my way in the world puts me in a privileged class. I don’t run up against barriers because of my age – race – physical ability – and so many other nuanced or blatant obstacles that society places in the pathway.

The story is told of Jesus traveling to his hometown. He carried a lot of baggage – figurative baggage. He was a poor Jew in an occupied country. He was the son of a carpenter, looked upon in that time and place as a lowly profession. He was a religious holy man – a mystic, and in the view of some folks, a weirdo.

Everyone has a place where they are from. If you grow up and move away and become famous, just don’t try to pull that stuff at home. There’s always a teacher who remembers you or a neighbor whose window you broke and people who will remind you that you’re not so special.

So it was for Jesus – who does he think he is? Isn’t he Joseph’s son? Where did he get all these ideas? His poor mother – he should be married now and raising a family of his own – not traipsing around the countryside with grandiose ideas.

As a result it seems he changed his strategy. No more going from town to town in a large group. No more mob scenes. No more crowds wanting to anoint him king. Instead he would send his followers out in teams of two. They would go from village to village, telling people the message of Jesus. Discovering whether people were receptive to the message. If so, Jesus could go there himself and reinforce their teachings. If not, they could shake the dust of that place from their feet on move on to the next place.

The strategy contains certain logic. Teams of two people could cover more ground than one large group. He wasn’t trying to set up revival meetings or mass rallies. He was going softly, planting seeds and seeing what might grow. By taking no provisions for the journey, they would need to rely on the hospitality of the communities they visited. That shows a vital piece of the message Jesus was trying to promote.

At that time Judaism had evolved into a religion based upon a system of purity codes. According to that system, if one adhered to the codes then one fulfilled the demands of the religion.

Jesus wanted to get at the spirit of the religion. To do that he reminded people that their religion was based upon their sense of relationship – with God and with each other in community. Community was the real foundation of Judaism. These were a people living under an oppressive and corrupt political system. Practicing hospitality within community would serve as a powerful reminder of their identity.

And if some communities were not receptive to the message, then move on. To try and convince people who are unwilling to even listen is an exercise in futility. He knew that from experience at home.

For Jesus, God was not confined to a particular location. God did not live in the Temple. And that would mean that the common religion could find its strength and cohesiveness in the common life of the people.

God was in the homes, the markets, the workplaces and wherever there was found the two or more gathered in his name. The realm of God that Jesus talked so much about was a heart and soul reality. Heart and soul realities can be a threat to the status quo of power, because heart and soul realities cannot be conquered.

When I started in ministry, I had this sense that a big part of my job was to somehow change the world – change the world for Christ. The church could somehow do that – if – if we just put minds to it, our hearts and souls to it and got busy with doing it. And how busy we could be. And all that changing the world involved more – doing more – giving more – and if we ever paused and thought simply about being, we had to somehow be better.

The reality is that the world changes – because of us or despite us. What I see as more important than changing the world, is creating a sense of community in a changing world – a community of justice, love and goodness. A community where we are not held hostage to the whims of change but have the time and space to remember and celebrate what is important. A community in touch with eternal realities.

The message of Jesus shows us that whenever we engage the bonds of community, when we give and receive love – we touch upon God’s purpose for our lives. What matters more than the people we love? The realm of God is always present amid change.

If we were to pack for the journey that is our life in a changing world, what do we need to take with us? Nothing too heavy – love one another, do justice, love kindness and walk humbly. Remember the ‘least of these;’ turn the other cheek, go the extra mile. Stuff like that. It’s not about trying to change people. It’s just being alongside people. That doesn’t seem like a lot. And it’s not really. But it’s traveling light God’s way. It is the essential formula for traveling well.

Sometimes when I was out and about dressed like a real minister, people would ask for something. Different from the general or religious themed talk. People would ask for a blessing. I didn’t know what they expected, so I tried to do my best.

On one occasion, a middle-aged looking guy, maybe a bit worse for wear did that. I took his hands in mine and said, “The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you.”

He said, “Thank you father,” and he kissed my hand. I thought, “I’ll take it.” A blessing is a blessing, and some blessings are like a two-way street.

Where are you off to? What do you need for today, for this week, for six months? God gives you what you need to travel well. Everything you need to follow the path. But shouldn’t there be more? Shouldn’t we do more? Maybe – But that’s the part, like so much of life, that you discover while on the journey. Amen.