Internal Voice

A lightly edited version of my sermon at First Christian Church in Pond Creek last Sunday.

 

Internal Voice
Mark 6:14-29

King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, ‘John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.’ But others said, ‘It is Elijah.’ And others said, ‘It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.’ But when Herod heard of it, he said, ‘John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.’

For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, ‘It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.’ And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, ‘Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.’ And he solemnly swore to her, ‘Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.’

She went out and said to her mother, ‘What should I ask for?’ She replied, ‘The head of John the baptizer. ’Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, ‘I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.’

The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When John’s disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.

 

Last Wednesday I told your minister and a few friends via Facebook that before I agree to guest preach again I’m going to look closer at the Lectionary texts for a given Sunday.  This week is the prophet Amos’ plumb line and the beheading of John the Baptist in the Gospel of Mark.  What was I thinking?  And a side note.  You don’t need to watch Game of Thrones, Survivor, 24, The Sopranos, Days of Our Lives, The Voice, Westworld, House of Cards, Breaking Bad, or whatever your favorite drama of the day is.  Pick up your bible, particularly one that is not a paraphrase, and start reading from the beginning.  Try not to read it like an authoritative book or holy scripture, or like you know the end of the story. Read it as a novel.  You are going to meet some real characters.  You are going to meet some archetypes of humanity.  You may meet yourself.  And when you’ve done that, then go back and revisit it as a guide for living the good news of God.  Buckle up church.  Here we go.

John the Baptizer usually appears at Advent and Epiphany.  We hear early on that John and Jesus are cousins by birth and take a divergent approach in their call to serve the good news of God.

Jesus travels the countryside telling ethical eschatology stories: parables, that confront, confound, and comfort in the here and now.  His stories focus on the lives people lead, their choices, and the systemic consequences of choices; and he does some healing on the side.  The good news of God is that God is always near, encouraging, interacting, loving, forgiving, but not controlling.  God is waiting for us to make better choices.(1)  Waiting, but what then?

John sets up in one place from which he barks an apocalyptic eschatology, a picture of life and culture that is so corrupt and problematic that only a divine radical action can fix it – save it – make it right again.  We are sinners in the hands of an angry God.  Think Noah’s story.  People are so involved in the matrix of corruption they can no longer distinguish between what’s real or not real; what is right and wrong.  Repent. Get baptized and wake up.  Change yourself, do your best, but really only God can change the whole thing; God will change the whole thing.  Faithful, repentant humans are waiting on God.  But, what then?

John is by far the most interesting show in the desert.  He fires people up using that old time religion, a call to repentance, calls for justice, and John openly challenges the power structures, political and religious, that are holding civil society together in the delicate balance of occupation.  John is a critic.  He is an internet troll that you cannot block from your social media.  Israel is occupied, the people are treated unjustly, the Apostle Paul is roaming the Gentile lands preaching Christ Jesus, and at the time that Mark’s gospel is written Rome has destroyed the temple.  Actual occupation not perceived occupation nor metaphorical occupation.  For more on the time, search for the writings of Josephus, a first century jewish historian.

It’s odd that the shortest gospel about the life and times of Jesus of Nazareth takes up so much space with this story about John’s death.  The story is sandwiched between Jesus sending his disciples out in pairs with only the clothes on their backs to preach repentance and heal.  When they return Jesus wants the whole crew to go on retreat, but a crowd of people recognize them going ashore, so Jesus teaches and with the disciples help, uninspired in their work, feeds the crowd of 5000 men.  There were no doubt many women and children too.

And that is where we meet up with John and Jesus today.  Herod hears of Jesus of Nazareth, his deeds, teachings, and he has disciples too.  That sounds like John the Baptizer.  Some were saying that John has been resurrected in Jesus.  But wait, John is dead?  How?  When?

And so, we have a classic flashback moment when the camera zooms into a character’s eyes looking pensive into the distance or you get the classic wavy lines indicating the passage for time.  Herod has jailed John who is a bothersome voice outside of town, but Herod is also interested in what John has to say.  The text says Herod was ‘perplexed’.  Curious might better capture Herod’s interest in John.  Prophets are almost always fascinating to and feared by authority structure.

Mark creates a narrative, “For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John . . .” 

But, I think we are reading, hearing, is Herod’s internal voice, going over the details again about John’s death.  You know that dialogue you have with yourself.  It is that reflective:

I should have . . .

I could have . . . 

Why didn’t I . . .

It’s that replay of the details over and over wondering if it could have been different.   It happens after conversations and choices that lead to actions that become regretful, guilt riddled, painful.  Sometimes there is no way to make amends or make it right.  It is even hard to admit to ourselves we made a wrong choice or own our mistake.  It seems like we’ve become a “beg forgiveness rather than ask permission” culture during my lifetime.   Sometimes you get removed from a situation or conversation and think, “If I had only said that, then . . .”  A great comeback to a question or remark, but it’s too late.   At the climax of conflict between two or more characters in film, usually one speaks for the internal voice, “It didn’t have to be this way.” or “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

John the baptizer is beheaded.  Herod hears John’s echo in Jesus of Nazareth; and Jesus has disciples.  Hmm.  What then?

I don’t know if you know it, but this is a fruitful and fraught-filled time to be a mainline Christian minister or priest, and specifically, one that preaches as part of ministry each week.  By mainline, I mean those ministers that are part of what I think of as historically centrists denominations: Presbyterians, Methodists, Lutherans, Episcopalians, yes some Catholics, yes some Baptists, United Church of Christ, and yes, the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).  Alongside other faith traditions and persons of no faith at all, mainline Christendom since World War II learned from the internal conversations of history that caused more death in God’s name than blessed the living with bread and fish.  For a bit of time, that centrist theology helped create a kind of manageable peace.

Many, mainline clergy, look out at congregations deeply divided by political and cultural change.  Each faction has its own media and facts, just as the marketers and culture war profiteers desire. Politicians have served up those to blame for our forced choices, our willful choices, uneducated choices, and the change that cannot be controlled, just managed.

Managed uncontrollable change.  Ten years ago my mother-in-law was asked by a TV news reporter about the demolition of an iconic bridge and the new bridge connecting her town to another.  My mother-in-law said, “Well, its sad, but that’s progress.”

Many mainline clergy, including Disciples of Christ, are delicately, subtly saying, “It didn’t have to be this way.  It doesn’t have to be this way.”  Some do so out of love for the people in their care.  Some, have families to tend and it is just easier to swallow the guilt of not speaking out than risk metaphorical beheading – being fired.  Clergy hear, “Just preach the gospel.  Don’t be political.”  What then do we do with the stories about John the Baptizer and the parables of Jesus of Nazareth.  Are we to only embrace the apocalyptic eschatology?  Those who are baptized are called to a different way of living.  What about the ethical?

Writing about the Mister Rogers documentary, David Brooks of the New York Times notes:

His (Mister Rogers) show was an expression of the mainline Protestantism that was once the dominating morality in American life . . . Rogers was singing from a song sheet now lost, a song sheet that once joined conservative evangelicals and secular progressives. The song sheet may be stacked somewhere in a drawer in the national attic, ready for reuse once again.(2)

The founders of our little frontier movement rebelled against the creeds and those who used Christian creedal identity to exclude persons from table fellowship and normalize the tribalism of their day.  It is not surprising that generations of Disciples embraced the motto, “In essentials unity.  In non-essentials liberty.  In all things charity.”  But, over the past 20 years, that too has become a song sheet stacked away somewhere that may get reused someday.  And, like everything else in culture right now, it seems no one can agree on what essential means. 

Intentional Christian community.  You have to want it.  But, what then?

Maybe the best way to approach texts like this is to ask questions:

  • Where are the echos of John in our world? 
  • Where are the echos of Herod? 
  • Where are the echos of those whose only worth is entertaining us? 
  • Where are the echos of those who will do anything to enrich themselves no matter who may be harmed? 
  • How is Jesus echoed in this congregation’s practice of the good news of God?

John the Baptizer and Jesus of Nazareth call us to remember and act upon, “It doesn’t have to be this way.”

You can love God and love your neighbor as yourself.  That’s the ethical good news of God that Jesus proclaimed while John waited for God’s reconciling action.

Which one will disciples choose today?

 

________

Notes

  1. This line of thought about Jesus attributed to Dr. John Dominic Crossing, “From Jesus to Christ”. Frontline, April 1998.
  2. David Brooks, Fred Rogers and the Loveliness of the Little Good. New York Times, July 5, 2018.

1 Comment

  1. Richmond Adams says:

    Well said, Michael, as always. It’s particularly so when one places this within Mark’s story of ongoing discipleship failure. Whatever our answer to the questions posed, Mark also cautions us to realize our own self-serving tendencies that create the divisions you note, and all too easily opens the cultural space for charlatans, rogues, and demagogues (principalities and powers if one will) to weave their webs in which all of us might find ourselves caught. To rely upon God’s grace, as you suggest, is to acknowledge our humanness, which is at once failed and blessed. Thanks again for your remarks.