Episodes
Sunday Sep 14, 2014
Full Immersion
Sunday Sep 14, 2014
Sunday Sep 14, 2014
A sermon preached by
Rev. Ginger Gaines-Cirelli at Foundry UMC September 14, 2014, the fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost.
Scripture: Mark 10:35-45
One day a parishioner walked into my church study, clearly in a state of distress. She proceeded to tell me that she had been taking an online course through some Christian website and that, in the process had been told that she wasn’t “saved” because her Baptism had been by sprinkling instead of full immersion. I assured her that she needn’t be afraid, that the baptismal methods of sprinkling, pouring, and full immersion are all referenced in the Bible, and that the ritual act is, as the traditional definition of sacrament goes, “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.” That is, how or how much water is used isn’t the point. God’s activity, God’s grace enfolding us and drawing us into the Body of Christ is the point.
The terror-inducing teaching that my parishioner received isn’t uncommon and is one example of the ways that we can direct so much energy toward gate-keeping at what is meant to be the open door of God’s grace that we fail to attend to the life that awaits on the other side. Perhaps some folks focus on the moment or the means of Baptism as an “end-all, be-all” moment in the Christian life because what is required after Baptism is so challenging. While some want to say that Baptism is the goal—“once and done!”—it seems to me that when you look at the broad sweep of God’s saving work, the goal is to make people more like Christ. And Baptism is an important entry to the ongoing journey required for that to happen. Along that path is found what the disciples of Jesus couldn’t seem to accept: vulnerability, suffering, and death.
Just prior to our Gospel passage today, Jesus has announced for the third time that he is going to Jerusalem and will be “handed over” and will be mocked, spit upon, flogged, and killed. The first time Jesus disclosed this to his disciples, Peter rebukes Jesus, unable to accept that the Messiah would meet such a fate. The second time, the disciples break into a rigorous round of “who’s the greatest?” And following Jesus’ third announcement, we get James and John audaciously admitting that they want Jesus to do their bidding: to grant them positions of prestige in his kingdom. Stunning and kind of funny—if it weren’t so familiar.
After all, when you hear something you don’t want to hear, what is your response? Perhaps things like defensiveness, propping yourself up, looking for a way around it, anger, and denial. Sound familiar? It certainly is familiar to me—denial is my defense of choice. James and John resort to a mixture of several of these things with a dash of what feels like entitlement thrown in. Jesus knows that they don’t have a clue what they’re asking for, but in his compassion—and perhaps recognizing that the brothers’ ambitions might be redirected in a powerful way—Jesus reveals what it takes to be considered “great.” I doubt they wanted to hear what he had to say—because it is the direct opposite of what they asked for. Jesus says that in this new community greatness is found not in being served, but in serving; greatness is found not by being given positions of power, but by humbling yourself.
My guess is that we—like the first disciples—don’t want to hear it. Then, as now, we human beings get trapped in the fiction that to be important, to be loved, to be somebody, we have to figure out how to “one up” those around us. Our egos can be tyrants, demanding that we find ways to prove ourselves, to “show off,” to get the attention we “deserve.” Of course, we all need to be seen and valued and cared for. But if we aren’t careful, we can fall into the “all about me” pit. From that place, everything should “work for me.” Anything that disrupts my comfort or my convenience, anything that goes against my personal preferences is wrong and should be changed. We don’t want to give anything up, we don’t want to release control, we don’t want to be bothered with the needs, desires, preferences of others when clearly ours are so important. And, furthermore, this vision of humble servanthood is absolutely counter cultural. Our whole culture caters to the idea that everything should make your life easier, comfortable, and more beautiful. What Jesus teaches challenges anyone with privilege. And it may be a particular challenge for men in our culture for whom anything that can be identified as “weakness” is anathema. What Jesus teaches challenges anyone who has power over anyone else (and everyone has the power to be a jerk—so don’t tell me you don’t have any power!). Jesus’ teaching applies to everyone. //
All of this does not mean that we shouldn’t work hard and strive to do our best to reach goals and achieve things. I know that there are many persons in this congregation who hold positions of authority and wield a great deal of power. I don’t think that the Gospel today suggests that being in such positions is a bad thing. Being at the top of the class is not a bad thing. Winning a game is not a bad thing. The challenge from the Gospel comes at the point where your purpose in life becomes winning or showing you are better than others, when your sense of identity and self-worth gets bound up with the position you hold, when you use your strength to “lord over” others rather than to serve them.
These issues touch us at all levels of our lives, from your own sense of self, to your family relationships, to your position in school or at work, to your place and perspective in your neighborhood and here at church. Just a few, simple examples: 1) Just a couple of days ago, Anthony came home from work with a cold. I got angry that our dinner plans had to change and that I was going to be left with dog-walking duties—after all, I had been struggling with writing a difficult sermon about humble service all day! I had fallen into the “all about me” pit. 2) Right now in our city, there are residents living in million-dollar homes who are screaming about their property values because churches in their neighborhood are ministering to the homeless. 3) I know folks in the church who complain that other people aren’t as humble and faithful as they are…some who hold their role in the church with a death grip and complain all the while that no one else is willing to do the work. Example after example could be shared about our own struggle with ego, with control, with selfish desire, with temper tantrums when we don’t get our way—not to mention examples of our experience of others who throw their weight around in selfish and self-righteous ways. And all of these examples are self- and life-diminishing. They are embarrassing and far below the dignity of what it means to be like Christ, to be truly human.
What Jesus shows us is that to be truly human is to bear the image of God, to be given all the grace of God, to be endowed with the power of the Holy Spirit and then…to freely choose to surrender it all, to restrain one’s power and to stand in solidarity with the vulnerable, with the powerless, with those treated as less than human. Christian philosopher Simone Weil suggests that to be human is not to do what is “possible” but to do what is “just.”[i] In other words, while it may be possible due to your strength and power to manipulate, control, terrorize, and beat up your wife, to do so is unjust and, therefore, inhuman. The truly human choice is to have the strength and power to do whatever you want to whomever you will, but to refrain from doing so out of love for the other. That is what God does for us each and every moment. It is what Jesus did in his life and in his death. Jesus chose not to do what was possible: to rule over others, to kill, to control, to live a long life upon the earth. Out of love, he freely chose instead to do what was just: to empower others, to lift others up, to heal, to give his life in order to set others free.
Jesus says, “I came to serve and to give my life a ransom for many.” Ransom implies hostages, captives. And we know that some are literally held captive by abusive partners—in both straight and gay relationships. Statistics show that in the United States a woman is beaten every 9 seconds and 1 in 3 women in the world is beaten or abused in her lifetime. At least 3 women are killed by domestic violence every day which means that over 633 women have died since the Ray Rice attack. Statistics suggest that there are victims and victimizers participating in this worship service right now. And today, recognizing that an overwhelming number of abusers are men, I want to take the opportunity to speak to those who are listening. To be a man doesn’t mean that you do what is possible, but that you do what is just, that you do what is loving, that you do what is Christ-like. It is a sign of greater courage and strength to admit your fault and frailty than to cling to control and continue in the cycle of emotional or physical violence and terror. Your partner doesn’t “make” you beat them. You are choosing to do that, you are allowing that. It is not OK and cannot be justified in any way. Get some help so that you can make a different choice. And to anyone who is listening who is being abused: reach out to the domestic violence hotline, to trusted friends or family, or to any one of us here at Foundry Church and we will do all in our power to provide safety and ongoing support. I know it is terrifying to consider trying to leave. But there is help available.
The tragedy of domestic violence is complex and fueled by cycles of violence in family systems, by mental illness and addiction, by a culture that objectifies women and feeds unhealthy images of manhood, and much more. It is simply another symptom of the deep brokenness and bondage in our human family. Today, I want to lift it up and to call people back to the hope that we have in Jesus. Jesus came to set the captives free and, in the process, to help all of us enter into the life that is our inheritance as daughters and sons of the living God.
“Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” Jesus asks. By God’s grace we are able to choose to enter into the life of God, to understand ourselves as part of one interconnected web of kinship in the Body of Christ, and to give ourselves for others and in service to the whole. Our Baptism—whether it is received as an infant, child, or adult—is a beautiful gift of God’s grace that promises new and true life. The promise isn’t that life will be easy, that we will be spared pain, that God will grant our demands for better jobs, more money, popularity, prestige, control, and “greatness” according to the ways of the world. Rather, Baptism offers you a place in the Body of Christ and sets you upon a path where you can become more truly human by emulating Jesus’ loving, humble service. And this journey toward a “great”—that is, Christ-like—life is an open invitation, offered to all, regardless of age or station or situation in life. You don’t have to be “dunked” for this journey to begin. But I suspect that God won’t leave you alone until you have gotten out of the shallow waters of selfishness and power-mongering and followed Jesus into the deep. You get to choose whether you will go “all in.” The more you move in that direction, you will discover that you are seen, valued, cared for, and loved by God. This frees you from the tyranny of trying to earn those things from others. Buoyed up by God’s love and mercy, you are given grace and courage to be life and love and hope for others. You become an invitation to others to jump in.
[i] See “The Love of God and Affliction,” in Waiting For God, by Simone Weil, trans. Emma Craufurd, New York, New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons, 1951.
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