Proper21BAcceptingourownwounds29sept24

 

Accepting our own and other’s wounds

Mark 9: 38-50

 

St Michael’s, Isla Vista / All Saints Oxnard
The Rev. Alene Campbell-Langdell; MCL additions

 

May I just start this morning by acknowledging that our Gospel reading is complex.  The images are startling (horrifying?) and the metaphors come almost too quickly to catch.  What is clear is that something serious is going on between Jesus and his disciples, and Jesus is using every means possible, including some pretty harsh language, to try to course correct. 

To even begin to understand this passage, we need to back up to last week’s reading from Mark.  In that reading, the disciples are arguing with each other about who is the greatest and best disciple.  In response, Jesus gets a little kid, some commentators say “toddler,” and holds this child in his arms during the rest of the conversation.   The other part of the scene to keep in mind is that Jesus has just told his disciples for the second time that he is headed to Jerusalem where he will be killed.  You may recall that during that the first time Jesus tells his disciples about his upcoming death, Jesus made clear that following him meant picking up your own cross.  This is where we pick up the story today. 

We enter the story today with John suddenly remembering that there was some other guy who wasn’t part of their group casting out demons and they (the disciples) “tried to stop him.”  The Greek here can be translated as prevented or hindered.  In short, they got in his way.  John is particularly offended by this guy because he wasn’t “following them.” It’s hard being told that the path you’re following is going to involve tremendous sacrifice and grief only to see someone else who appears to be skipping the line. 

 

Now, before we get on John’s case, I want you to imagine hearing or reading about some group opening up a drug treatment program or a homeless shelter, claiming to be Christian, while at the same time working politically towards a goal that seems to you diametrically opposed to everything that Christ taught.  In that situation, it might be very tempting for us followers of Christ to try to “get in the way” of that treatment program.  What are they going to teach these people about Jesus? 

In a few short sentences Jesus makes clear that being a Christian doesn’t involve checking off boxes of belief or self-sacrifice for its own sake.  In Matthew, Jesus told the crowd that they would recognize “false prophets…by their fruit” (7:15-20).  Here, the reverse is also true, you will recognize the followers of Jesus by the deeds they do: providing healing and nourishment to any of the littlest ones in need.  But Jesus doesn’t leave the disciples in the place of power and privilege, providing for other’s needs, like a king offering largesse. Instead, they become the littlest ones who receive a cup of water to drink from someone they didn’t believe was part of their group. 

It is from this position of recognizing that at some point we are all in need of healing and nourishment that Jesus begins to warn against the dangers of causing someone else to trip and lose faith in a moment of weakness.  Still holding that child in his arms, Jesus invokes the name of a place known for child sacrifice.  The word translated as “hell” in our scripture is “Gehenna,” the name of a place where children were burned in hopes of appeasing a god. 

Jesus repeats this intense and horrifying image three times in an attempt to make this point clear: taking up your own cross to follow Jesus is never about requiring someone else to sacrifice.  Instead, taking up your own cross means doing whatever is needed to bring healing and nourishment to those around you, trusting that when your faith is weak, when you become one of the littlest ones, they will do the same for you.

 

There’s an odd sort of good news hidden in Jesus’ imagery here.  In the Hebrew Scriptures, those with bodily imperfections were specifically excluded from entering the temple, yet here the disciples are invited to enter life with Jesus while stumbling along, half blind if necessary.  (Since Halloween is on the horizon in a month, this almost makes me think of the happy but somewhat grotesque villagers in the “Nightmare before Christmas” movie. Just as in the movie, outward beauty does not always indicate a loving person, perfection is not required to enter God’s presence—only a determination not to get in the way of others doing the same. 

Perhaps we can each think of someone who has been an example to us of how to live like this- yesterday Ana Sandoval and I were remembering just how wise and strong Elisa Arauz was, and how she never spoke ill of others but kept moving forward faithfully and with elegance.

Jesus says “For everyone will be salted with fire” (Mark 9:49).  No one escapes some fire in their lives.  Everyone has their own cross.  Suffering is a part of life.  Everyone gets wounded in life.  And yet, Jesus says, “Salt is good” (Mark 9:50a).  Those who study human emotions know that without the so-called “negative emotions” (anger, sadness, fear), the positive emotions of joy, love, and peace are impossible.  Suffering and loss are part of what gives our lives meaning and depth. Even though I am terribly sad when we lose a pillar of the congregation such as Joan or Elisa, I think, “thank you God, for allowing me to meet that person of faith. My life is so much richer as a result of knowing them.”  Getting rid of all the “negative” emotions deprives us of joy as well.  We end up numb, tasteless, flat.  Salt without saltiness.  We now know that this numbness is precisely what happens when a child is traumatized.  It’s also what happens in extreme grief or other tragedy.  And so, Jesus’ question comes to us with unexpected poignancy, “If salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it?” (Mark 9:50). 

“Have salt in yourselves” (Mark 9:51), Jesus says.  The first step is accepting our own wounds.  We are not the greatest in the kingdom.  We are the ones who need healing and nurture.  We limp along sometimes wondering if we’re going the right direction.  But every time we take the hand of a little child or help someone take a step towards believing in a God that cares for them, we will find our own hearts opening up.  A little of our own saltiness returns.  There is a possible word play at the end of this passage where “allelois” the Greek word for “one another” sounds a bit like “ala” the word for salt.  Accepting our own woundedness leads us to re-connect with others in their woundedness, in their saltiness, the flavor that helps season a life of faith, and that is needed to continue on the pathway to healing. 

“Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”  Be at peace with your neighbor who is also wounded and stumbling along.  Don’t get in the way. Offer healing and a cup of cold water whenever possible, and together we will all stumble along into the joy of God’s presence.