Living on the Edge

Proper 10B; Mark 6:14-29; St. Paul’s, Smithfield 7/12/2015

Jim Melnyk: “Living on the Edge”

At one level, Mark’s Gospel can be seen as a case study on what it means to live on the edge.  Now don’t get me wrong – living on the edge can be exhilarating if we’re talking about hang gliding in Hawaii or zip lining through the Amazon rain forest.  But living on the edge takes on different meaning when one begins preaching about the coming of God’s reign on earth – when it comes to preaching about things like repenting of our sins, seeing God’s image even in those least like us, or loving and praying for one’s enemies. 

Certainly the first followers of Jesus received some rather heady lessons about living life on the edge rather early on in their ministry together.  Today’s Gospel passage brings us an object lesson about what can happen when we live life on the edge – when we risk proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ to a world that doesn’t want to hear about a need for repentance – doesn’t want to hear about a need for forgiveness and grace – to a world that doesn’t want to hear about compassion – to a world that doesn’t want to hear about mercy.  Today’s passage from Mark is an object lesson about what can happen when we risk proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ to a world that is threatened by having its brokenness name – threatened by the shared power that come with the Good News – threatened by an inclusive gospel that says there should be no outcasts in the kingdom – and threatened by the possibility that God can and does say a new thing in each new generation.

In many ways the rather abrupt story about Herod’s drunken oath and the execution of the Baptist feels like a non-sequitur – stuck in the middle of Jesus sending out the twelve on a mission trip through Galilee and their return – a bookmark of sorts – an aside by a writer who lost his train of thought.  But there’s a method in Mark’s editorial exercise. 

John the Baptist was a populist prophet.  The people from all around the region were drawn to him and his message of repentance.  John’s popularity, as much as his denunciation of Herod’s marriage, was a threat to the king whose reign stood on shaky footings.  Herod had taken care of the Baptist problem – first by imprisoning him, and then by executing him in response to his step-daughter’s request.  But now this Jesus character comes on the scene preaching repentance and the coming reign of God – a reign that challenges the political status quo not only in Herod’s realm, but the stability of Rome as well. 

Jesus’ popularity is growing well beyond that of John’s.  People are flocking to him and even his disciples are out on preaching missions drawing great crowds and doing wondrous things.  He and his disciples are proclaiming renewed freedom and the coming of the kingdom of God, and we are told that Herod heard these things about Jesus.  Herod heard these things about Jesus – six words that carry significant and sinister connotations.

Jesus was a threat to Herod – even if he wasn’t directly challenging the king the way the Baptist had.  Herod’s reign wasn’t respected by the populous – and the Baptist’s charges against him had made for even more distrust among his subjects.  What’s more – Rome didn’t appreciate the rise of populist prophets – ones that offered any sort of challenge to Roman rule.  And here was this Jesus – whose followers used titles for him that Romans reserved only for their Emperor.  No wonder Herod was troubled – it was enough worrying about his subjects, but to risk Rome’s wrath….  No wonder the Good News preached by Jesus and his disciples put them on the edge – in a risky place – in a place reserved for the likes of the beheaded Baptist!

Mark’s inclusion of the John/Herod story tells us that living the Gospel faithfully will draw attention to us – and not always for the good.  True, many will be drawn to our gospel witness by the power of its message.  They will be drawn to our witness because somewhere deep within them they recognize the truth of God’s compassion, mercy and grace – somewhere deep within they recognize the truth of God’s all-inclusive love; they recognize the dignity of sharing power with rather than holding power over; they recognize that God truly can and does speak a new word to new generations as we become more attuned to the wonder of God’s dream for creation.

But there will also be people who are deeply disturbed by our witness to the Good News of God in Christ.  There will be those who disagree with how we interpret that Good News – and risk takers like the Episcopal Church often finds itself standing on the very edge – challenged by the world.  There will be those who feel challenged by what we see as the diversity – the openness – the welcome – the inclusivity of the kingdom of God.  “You want to let who in?!  You want them sitting at the table next to me?  Using the fine china?  How ‘bout putting them out back with a paper plate?” some will ask. There are those who will be greatly disturbed by the grace of God – challenged by the compassion of God – challenged by God’s mercy – challenged by the justice of God’s kingdom – because for too many people, justice is about judgment and condemnation; whereas for God, justice is always about the mercy and love of God for all of creation.

Many years ago when I was an undergrad student, there was a saying going around the evangelical circles: “If you were arrested today for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?”  Do you remember?  It’s actually not a bad question – though I look differently today at what might constitute the body of evidence used to convict me.  If people aren’t  paying attention to us – either being drawn in wonder to our witness for God in Christ, or pushing back at us because the gospel challenges their comfort zones, or their power, or their authority, then perhaps we need to stop and take stock of just what our witness has been. 

The Herod’s of this world should be threatened by us.  The complacent of this world should be shaken – and the broken-hearted and lost of this world – including the broken hearts and sense of loss each of us at times carry in our own lives – should feel welcomed – should feel valued – should feel empowered by our witness. 

Are we living on the edge of gospel witness, or flying under the radar?  Do our lives mirror what we say we believe and value in our lives?  Do we put those beliefs into action?  Do we believe that God loves us with an undying love and compels us to proclaim that love to the world – even if it shakes the footings of the empire?  Or does it feel just a little too embarrassing to talk about the love of God and about the dream of God with others – a little discomforting to talk about the place of faith in our lives?  After all, that’s more the home court of evangelical Christians – including the ones who preach about the exclusivity of God’s love.

 Jesus gets in trouble with the power brokers of his community when he suggests they have left their own faith behind, using portions of Torah Teaching to their political or even financial advantage, and ignoring the spirit that so deeply infuses their nation’s faith tradition. 

The arguments we hear throughout Mark and the other gospels between Jesus and others are actually in-house, religious debates – debates about Sabbath observance and dietary traditions were not uncommon between teachers then or now.  Those differences of opinion are not what put Jesus at risk.  Touching lepers, welcoming gentiles and honoring their faith – as with the Syrophoenician woman whose daughter was ill (Mk 7:24ff) – are not uncommon acts in first century Judaism and therefore do not put Jesus outside the bounds of his Jewish faith.  

Jesus gets into trouble with the political leadership of Jerusalem – the Sadducees, the Sanhedrin, the High Priest, and Herod – not so much because of his theology, which is soundly within the boundaries of Jewish faith, but rather because he is drawing too much attention. 

Jesus gets into trouble because his popularity is threatening, and because Jesus’ witness to God’s ultimate authority risks the wrath of Rome, and therefore risks Herod’s standing as king, as well as the power of priestly leadership who were all serving at Rome’s whim.

In the end, Herod is more concerned about the oath he makes and his honor among his guests than he is about the Baptist, who according to the story he was protecting.  As one commentator puts it, Herod’s “willingness to sacrifice others to maintain honor, prestige, and power remains one of the greatest temptations” for those in power today as it was for people like Herod and Pilate two thousand years ago (The New Interpreter’s Bible: A Commentary in Twelve Volumes, Pheme Perkins, Vol. VIII, Abingdon Press, Nashville, 1995, p. 599). 

We may think that religious differences were at the heart of the matter in Jesus’ day – we may think religious differences are at the heart of the matter today – but really, it’s all about power.  What does living on the gospel edge look like in today’s church?  What about our gospel message causes power to tremble and react with swift recourse?  Where and how are we willing to take a risk to not only proclaim God’s love for the whole of creation, but live that proclamation out in our lives? 

Last week we heard the action statement first used in the Diocese of Ohio: “Love God.  Love your neighbor.  Change the world.”  It might mean living on the edge – it might just mean leaping over the edge and growing some wings on the way down.  It could be a bit scary at times.  But it could also be the most exhilarating and meaningful time of our lives.