One Wild Sunday Morning

Jan 29th  |  The Reverend Kevin Scott Fleming |  Mark 1:21-28

            When you stop to think about it, this whole idea of getting up and coming to a church on a Sunday morning probably does seem a little bizarre.  We spend the whole week knocking ourselves out and then, on the one morning the rest of the world seems to be sleeping in and taking a decidedly slower pace, we get up, get gussied up, and head to what some still believe is a dying downtown (where have they been?) to do something that no one in their right mind believes in doing anymore.  Feeling better about things?

            And then, there is our Presbyterian predisposition to order and control.  We prefer Presbyterian predictability over Pentecostal pandemonium.  We like to know that one Sunday is going to be pretty much like the last one.  We don’t go in for a lot of innovation or enhancements.  If I change the seating pattern at the 8:30 a.m. service, there’s a noticeable buzz of discontent.  If we sing a hymn that is outside of the canon of the 30 hymns we really know out of the 500 that are available in the hymnbook, there are raised eyebrows and grimaces.  Innovation and creativity seem to be highly over-rated commodities when it comes to worship.

            Then, add to that, that over the past couple of decades, we have begun to view worship like other things we consume.  This has lead to the rather recent and frequently overheard comment, “I didn’t get much out of church today.”  Really?  The first responsorial question might be, “What did you put into it?”  As Will Willimon reminds us, “There are those within this congregation this morning who could tell the world the truth: church is not where we come to get what we want out of God.  Church is where God gets what God wants out of us.”[i]

            So, if for no other reason, this story of Jesus at worship in the Capernaum synagogue, should make us think about what worship is and what it is not.  This story is something of a mirror that we can hold before our faces and see what we are doing when we are at worship and what God might be telling us.

            The story of Jesus’ Sabbath observance in Capernaum, begins to bring the opening of Mark’s gospel to a close.  Jesus has been baptized, tempted, called his first disciples, and now begins his ministry.  He goes to Capernaum, a lovely little town on the shores of the Sea of Galilee, just down the road from Magdala.  Capernaum was the hometown of Peter, Andrew, James, and John.  And Jesus goes to the synagogue, the remnants of which still stand in Capernaum, and begins to teach. 

            The content of the lesson – the words of the sermon – have not survived.  But there is one indication of how it went.  “They were astounded at his teaching,” Mark writes, “for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.”  The community had gathered for their day to be with God.  The Jews did no work on the Sabbath because this was the one day they spent solely with God and the things of God. 

            But, somewhere along the way, things got out of hand.  Mark tells us that a man “with an unclean spirit” starts screaming at Jesus.  Now, I don’t know if the man was possessed, and I’m not sure what to do with stories of demon possession in the light of modern and post-modern psychology and psychiatry.  But I do know this: that there have been times when each and every one of us have heard something in worship that we just didn’t like and wanted to scream out at the preacher.  We have the good manners not to do it – though some have walked out.  Sometimes the proclamation of the authentic word gets up in our face and we don’t want to hear it.  “I’ve already made up my mind, Lord.  Don’t confuse me by telling me what God thinks.”  Yes? 

            Yet, this fellow in Capernaum, just started letting Jesus have it.  “I know who you are, Jesus!  I know who you are and what you want to do!”  To that, Jesus pastorally responded, “Shut up!”  Welcome to worship, Jesus style.  It was one wild Saturday morning.

            Here’s the thing: sometimes hearing the authentic word that God wants us to hear plunges us into crisis.  Sometimes we hear God calling us to something we’d rather avoid.  Sometimes we hear God chiding us for something we’ve done and continue to do.  Sometimes we fear that once we hear God’s word, we will have to make some changes. 

            Finley Peter Dunne was a Chicago newspaper editor and writer.  The character he created, Mr. Dooley, was so popular that Teddy Roosevelt read Mr. Dooley’s weekly column at Cabinet meetings.  Though it has been attributed to a great many others, the quote for which we remember Mr. Dunne was, when speaking of the newspaper business, “to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.”

            That’s really what worship can often do and why we sometimes respond so vociferously. Sometimes, in church, we hear God’s word, even though it’s something we would rather ignore.  We hear about how God feels about the rich and the poor and try to convince ourselves that we are the poor and the 1% are the rich.  We hear about how God feels about justice and it forces us to face our contentment with the unfairness and wrongs that happen all around us, absolving ourselves of any complicity in them.  We hear how God created all people in the divine image and we are reminded of our prejudices and bigotries and we are forced to own up to the times we have defiled God’s image by ill-treating those who are our sisters and brothers. 

            The simple truth is that you cannot really hear the word of God and not be challenged and even changed.  God’s word isn’t there to pat us on the head and tell us how good we’ve been.  The word of God isn’t your grandmother, who never sees anything wrong with anything you’ve done. 

            Little wonder the Letter to the Ephesians calls the word of God, “the sword of the Spirit.” (Eph. 6:17)  When properly proclaimed, the word of God can cut – slash – and excise that which is not of God. 

            That may be one reason why more people aren’t in worship.  It may be that there are lots of people who realize that if they come too close to the word of God they aren’t going to be able to stay the same.  It may be that there are lots of people who just can’t believe that the gap between them and God will ever be closed.  It may be that past experiences with the church have scarred them too deeply to consider returning. 

            But – and this is really important – the reason we gather in community to worship is to be reminded that others have been there, too.  Look around you this morning and realize that all of these people have had the experience of God breaking in and tossing it all into a cocked hat.  We’ve all had our share of wild Sunday mornings.  We came to church expecting the same old same old, and – glory be – God showed up.  We heard something we had not heard before.  We felt something we had not felt before.  We saw where we were and where God created us to be and it didn’t match up.  We saw what God was offering and we wanted it for ourselves.

            That’s what can happen in worship.  And when it does – all bets are off! 

            Worship, no matter what else it may be, is a time when God’s word resonates so profoundly within us that we can no longer ignore its power and direction.  That word confronts us – sometimes gently, sometimes disturbingly – and we face a moment of great decision.  Do we continue along as though nothing is different?  Or do we take full opportunity of the moment and take the leap into the new beginning God offers?

            I’m sure that when the people of Capernaum went to the synagogue that day long ago, the last thing they expected was a wild ride of a morning.  The guest preacher spoke as few had ever heard.  A man started screaming at the preacher.  Chaos erupted.  Nothing was as it was supposed to be.

            That’s the very sort of thing that can happen when God shows up at worship.  When the word of God is authentically proclaimed, all kinds of things can happen.  Long held ideas melt away.  Animosities that we have carried for years no longer seem all that important.  Precious idols are seen for what they truly are.  Prejudices are labeled for what they are.  The challenge of authentic discipleship is seen for what it is.  And new beginnings are available to everyone.

            But, that’s the way it is supposed to be.  After all, “church is where God gets what God wants out of us.”  Worship is a time when God’s presence is invited, when God’s word both comforts and bothers, and we are plunged into moments of crisis and decision. 

            All in all, not a bad way to spend a Sunday morning.  For now and evermore.  Amen.

[i] Pulpit Resource, vol. 40, no.1, p. 22