March 22, 2009:  EVEN WHEN WE DON’T AGREE, THEY MIGHT BE RIGHT
Mark 10:32-34; Mark 9:38-41; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
Eileen Parfrey, Springwater Presbyterian Church

         There’s nothing like teaching something to help you learn it.  If you have ever taught Sunday School or an Extension lesson, you know what I mean.  I experienced that last week teaching How to Be a Presbyterian.  After a contentious weekend at presbytery, I referred in class to the Historic Principles of the Church and had one of those, “Now I get it!” moments.  “What principles?” you may ask.  The distinctively Reformed principles (in the Book of Order, our Constitution) that tell us God alone is Lord of the conscience (G-1.0101.a); that we might be wrong, but our being wrong that doesn’t infringe on the rights of others to be right (G-1.0302); that truth is in order to goodness, so we’ll be able to judge the holiness of others by whether or not what they do promotes holiness (G-1.0304); and that people of good character may differ from each other in their opinions (G-1.0305).  These may seem like no big deal, because you’re at Springwater and these are principles this congregation has held from its beginning.  It’s not a universal understanding, even in the Presbyterian Church, which is what we experienced at presbytery last weekend.
            It was the meeting at which we vote on proposed Constitutional amendments.  As is typical for every presbytery meeting, we also examined candidates for ordination as Minister of Word and Sacrament.  The ordination question du jour was, “What do you need to do to be saved?”  Just so you know, I was taught in Reformed Theology class that the appropriate answer is, “Nothing.  God saves me through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.”  Presbytery’s warring factions didn’t think that was enough of an answer.  It was a great prelude to this week’s scripture, in which Jesus teaches his disciples who are wound up about a guy casting out demons in his name without their say-so.  Jesus interrupts his passion-prediction teaching to answer his disciples’ question, “Who’s the greatest?”  The answer is, “The one who serves the poor little ones.”  His answer is about giving and receiving to serve the poor, and their question is about forbidding and line-drawing. 
         Jesus doesn’t diss his disciples’ concerns, but he does give them a way to discern, by inviting them to be gracious and generous in labeling just who it is that follows him.  Then he blesses those who give aid and comfort in his name to traveling evangelists and the needy.  He reminds the disciples that giving and receiving will characterize discipleship.  Maybe it’s easier to tolerate people who are clearly “not us” than it is to disagree with people who are supposed to be us.  That’s the irony of presbytery’s votes on the proposed amendments to the Constitution.  We approved, nearly unanimously and without discussion, the amendment for mutual recognition of baptism with the Roman Catholic Church—overturning 500 years of disagreement.  Yet we nearly drew blood over allowing local congregations and presbyteries to determine fitness for ordination, which is what we’ve been doing all along.  Simultaneously, we agreed to replace the word “sympathy” with the word “compassion.”  Does anyone else see a pattern with the Mark story?
         Just days later, Jesus scares the liver out of everyone by tossing out the officially-sanctioned theology of economic disparity which said that people were rich because God rewards them for being so good.  The use of economic bail-out money to pay retention bonuses shows it hasn’t totally disappeared in 2,000 years.  Jesus throws out the notion just before his third passion prediction, made as he walks on ahead of everyone to Jerusalem.  Knowing his goal is passion and not pilgrimage, he sees the inevitability of being hailed as king of the Jews.  But he’s also sure his coronation will mean his death.  He doesn’t know exactly what will happen, but he knows everyone is going to be implicated in it—Jew, Gentile, religious authority, government official, the crowd, his disciples. 
         Don’t be too hard on the poor disciples.  They wrestle with a sense of impending and purposeless doom, but at least they continue to follow.  They may have an imperfect relationship with Jesus, but it’s an unbroken relationship.  Their story today challenges our complacency.  The disciples may have been dunderheads, as my gospels teacher used to say, but at least they were alarmed!  The gospel today is frequently preached as a no-risk gospel, and people follow Jesus to stay out of trouble.  The passion prediction and the unauthorized exorcist discussion challenge our simplistic, self-centered discipleship of “me and my Jesus.”  Getting right with Jesus will mean more trouble, not less.  If we’re not following with fear and trembling, like those disciples, we’re not really following.  Why should we be fearful?  Because the gospel is always a challenge to the predominant culture’s value system.  Our culture, friends.  The church’s accepted standards of success mirror those of the culture.  More is better.  Bigger is stronger.  Stronger is righter.  That’s not what Jesus preaches here.
         One of my friends was in Philadelphia last week and required hospitalization for an illness that came out of the blue.  Her illness will be chronic, its management will require lifestyle changes, and, if the rules of engagement aren’t kept, she’s gonna hurt a lot.  She spent five days, flat on her back in a strange town, missing work. Unaccountably, she feels the loving, grace-filled hand of God in this.  When we spoke, she was feeling the grace and said, “I’m trying not to understand this too much.”
         That’s what I’m beginning to feel about the internecine (mutually destructive) wars of the church today.  I’m trying not to understand this too much.  I have the Historic Principles to back me.  We might be wrong.  But we might also be right.  There might be more than one way to understand the issues, and we might both be “right” (and I use quotation marks on that word).  What if this brouhaha was all about that Lenten mystery, forgiveness?  And what if we weren’t in charge of defining who God forgave and who was an abomination?  What if, in following Jesus, we agreed that if it increases holiness in the world, then it’s at least forgivable, even if it’s not “right.”
         Take a look at the Meditation Before Worship today from St Augustine.  “If you can comprehend it, it is not God.”  I am not speaking of relativism, that mushy thing about everybody’s right and there are no standards.  Reformed theology says that abstract Truth, especially as regards God, cannot be articulated with black-and-white answers.  I’m a perfect example of that!  The truth about me is that I am Bernice’s baby girl.  But I am also simultaneously your pastor, Rick’s wife, Melanie’s watercolor student, a spiritual director to some and a playmate to others. These are not just “roles,” no one of them is “right” or enough.  These contradictory labels are my identity, who I am before you and before God.
         Following Jesus is both more complicated and simpler than we think.  We need to cut each other some slack for the way we each follow.  Please hear me:  this is not relativism, anything goes.  There are standards of measure, and Jesus gives those standards today.  Be gracious and generous about who you label as following Jesus; bless those who give aid and comfort to gospel-spreaders and the needy; give and receive in Christ’s name.  If we had to follow these standards in order to be accepted, we’d have a hard time doing it.  It’s not going to be easy following Jesus, especially if these are the terms by which we are judged.  So fall back on the Historic Principles.  We might be wrong individually, and good people may disagree and still be right.  We’ll be able to judge our rightness and that of others by the holiness resulting from the actions.  As my friend told me this week, try not to understand this too much.