Not magic, but faithfulness

Sermon by Jamie Howison on Mark 9:38-50 and James 5:13-20

When I first sat down to look at these readings on Monday, I could sense little connection between them. James seems concerned with the shape of the Christian life for the long haul; he seems deeply aware of all that Jesus said and did, and he wants to coach his communities toward a sustainable way of living for the long haul as Jesus-people. The reading from Mark, on the other hand, is set at a time when the crisis was still boiling. Mark is the earliest of the four gospels, written prior to the destruction of Jerusalem and all that it would mean for the young Christian movement. Where James knows that Jerusalem is but a memory for both Judaism and the young Christian movement, Mark writes at a point where Jerusalem’s future is still up in the air. James is committed to helping the church become a true Christian expression in the world, whereas Mark seems most concerned with readying those earlier Christians for the crisis that would come when Jerusalem fell.

And yet as I read and reread these texts and looked at the various commentaries on these two passages, I began to see that these two writers—Mark and James—were in fact very close in what they dreamed for the young church; for the young Jesus-movement. Yes, James is considerably calmer than Mark, but that’s because he has experienced the final collapse of Jerusalem and the destruction of its temple. He now knows that a community’s life can now only be fully lived in and through the risen Jesus.

Mark’s view, of course, is written earlier than that of James—probably in the early 60s prior to the destruction of Jerusalem, as opposed to sometime in the last quarter of that 1st Century when James writes—and so Mark maintains an intensity and an urgency that comes right out of that context.

Mark begins in a way that doesn’t sound particularly urgent. John comes to Jesus, saying, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us,” to which Jesus replies, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterwards to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”

Yet then things ramp up rather quickly, as Jesus speaks first of not putting a stumbling block before these little ones who believe in him, and then moves quickly to what seems a most dire teaching.

If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell., And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.

At first glance these words seem utterly dire, even if we can quickly conclude that Jesus is using the strongest language of symbolism to make his point. As N.T. Wright comments,

They refer to precious parts of one’s personality… which may from time to time cause one to stumble, which may, that is, bring about one’s ruin as a follower of Jesus. The immediate meaning seems to be that John and the others had better watch out in case their desire for honour when Jesus becomes king prevents them in fact from being his disciples at all. Anything that gets in the way must go.

You just can’t miss the intensity which Mark wants to get across in these lines. This is urgent stuff for urgent times, and in his view the only way to be a follower of Jesus is to keep straight on the path, even if that path seems to lead straight toward crisis.

James, on the other hand, is writing to his communities on the other side of the immediate crisis that was the fall and destruction of Jerusalem. All the way through his Epistle, James has been urging the community to bring life in line with its faith; to see that “works” and “belief” are held together in a kind of unison. In this James is foundationally Jewish, insisting that what one believes and how that is played out must have an inner unity. Are some members poor, while others are rich? That’s not in keeping with what Jesus lived and taught. Are some flourishing, but at the cost of their identity as Jesus people? It is time for that to change. Are some trusting in their own wealth rather than living as part of a people? Time for change there too.

And then here, in these closing verses of his letter, he turns to questions of basic identity. Are some suffering? Have them pray. Are some happy? Let them sing and pray in thanksgiving. Are some sick? Call the elders and have them come to anoint them with oil and offer prayers of healing. And do know that you will sin, and when you do confess those sins to one another, in a spirit of reconciliation and renewal.

“Learn from people like Elijah,” comments Robert Hoch.

Learn from people like Elijah, who was just like us, and whose prayers were powerful and effective amid natural and political droughts. Restore one another to the community forged in God’s image. In other words, our theological language is meaningless apart from the way our language fosters the whole human experience, including the testimony of those the powers call orphans, widows, and immigrants.

“[T]he church born of this testimony,” Robert Hoch insists, “reflects a form of God-shaped humanity which flourishes, against the grain, in contexts of exile.” This is the way for Christians to live, on the other side of the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple. Oh, the Romans may still control these lands, but their control is simply not up to what God in Christ holds for us. Live not for Rome or any other human government, but instead for what God has promised to do.

It is in many respects a widely hopeful and hope-filled vision for life on the other side of the temple’s destruction. Do this, James encourages, as it is what we are meant to do and be as we wait for the fullness of Christ’s return.

So, we have one ancient writer presenting the story of Jesus prior to the great crisis of the destruction of Jerusalem, and one ancient writer offering counsel to communities that are living on the other side of that destruction; maybe just 15 or 20 years later, but still with the experience of Jerusalem’s collapse and the need to find new ways to keep living faithfully. The question for us is this: “how can they speak most loudly in our own time?”

That question is deeply coloured by the reality in which we live, which seats us at month eighteen of the COVID-19 pandemic, and just over two months of being in a place where we can again gather together in the church. The last time these readings came up in the lectionary, we were sitting happily in the fall of 2018, entirely oblivious to what that pandemic would mean to the world. At that point the crisis flagged by Jesus in the gospel according to Mark looked rather academic, but now we have this experience of not being able to gather for some fifteen months followed by these few months of having small gatherings here in the church building, all of us masked and some at least feeling very nervous.

While Mark’s urgency cannot and should not be dismissed, for my money James is the one who speaks most poignantly to us on this night. I think that what James is living with is a community that has come through the loss of Jerusalem and all that it represented, and who now know that the only way forward is forward. It isn’t what any of them expected—how could one seriously contemplate the desolation of that sacred city?—but now they’re on the other side and they are sorting out what it means to be the people of Jesus. After four chapters of sorting out how it will look to live the faith and not just speak it with their mouths, James is in full gear as he winds down his epistle. Pray when things get tough. Give thanks when things are good. Call for the elders to pray and anoint you if you’re sick. “Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.” Dare to be present to one another, even to the one who has wandered away from the truth. Be the faith, in other words, no matter how tough the days may get.

And things did get tough, no doubt, and in quite short order as various Roman emperors turned hard against the Christians. And then over the centuries since James put ink to paper, things have often gotten really tough at various points, including over the past eighteen months when folks—good, solid folks—have become lost or listless or angry or resentful or careless or irresponsible or belligerent, or… well, or all the things that can surface when people are tired, frustrated, and unsure.

Here James is so solid. And he’s solid because he knows the things that people will do and try and enact when times are trying and difficult. Were he alive with us today he’d probably not be too surprised by some of the upheaval, denial, and conspiracy theories that are around. And into this he’d say this to us, as his community:

Are any among you suffering? They should pray. Are any cheerful? They should sing songs of praise. Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord. The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.

That’s not magic, but rather a faithfulness that is unafraid of receiving a vaccine, and equally unafraid to lean upon one another in God when life gets tough.