One Pastor’s Prayer – A Sermon preached at First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, PA on July 25, 2021 by the Rev. James E. Thyren 

You know someone like the writer of Ephesians. You know someone who gets so excited about something that when they attempt to tell you about it the words come in a mad rush like water from a fire hose. You know someone whose verbal barrages leave you responding: “Slow down, take a breath.”

            Our reading from the Letter to the Ephesians is made up of two sentences in the Greek.  It isn’t the first time in the letter that Paul has strung a whole lot of words into a single sentence.  Religious Studies Professor Scott Shouf describes how translators have helped us out by slowing things down:

            “Like the letter’s opening blessing, (our text) consists of a single sentence in Greek. Most modern English translations break the passage into several sentences to make it easier to follow for modern readers. The New Revised Standard version adds ‘I pray’ at the beginning of the new sentences (in verses 16 and 18) so that the sense of the continuing prayer is not lost on the reader. The closing doxology (verses 20 and 21 is also a single sentence.”[i]

            You can’t blame Paul for being so excited.  He is a pastor locked away in prison and separated from his people. He’s got a lot on his mind and plenty of time on his hands, so he puts it to good use. His occasional avalanche of words is caused by a pent up desire to tell his readers

what he would teach them if he could be with them. According to N.T. Wright, interpreters of Ephesians “sometimes say that in a letter like Ephesians the first half  is ‘doctrine’ and the second half is ‘ethics’- half of the letter on what to believe and half of the letter  on how to behave.”  Wright adds that a closer look at Ephesians reveals chapters 1-3 not teaching so much as prayer.”[ii]  

            Theology professor, George Stroup, describes the pastor’s prayer “as a hinge between the first three chapters of Ephesians—its descriptions of what God has done gathering up all things in Christ, breaking down the dividing wall of hostility, and creating in Christ ‘one new humanity’—and the last three chapters of the epistle, which instruct readers about what they are to do in response. They are ‘to lead a life worthy of the calling to which (they) have been called.’ Prayer stands at the intersection of reflection on what God has done and obedient discipleship in God’s world.”[iii]

            The author of Ephesians, says Stroup, “tells us there is a reason why he kneels before the Father, presumably the same reason mentioned at the beginning of the chap-ter. What brings the writer to his knees is the mystery to which he has several times alluded—the mystery of  God’s will, the mystery that in Christ Jesus  there is now peace between God and those previously estranged from God and peace between those previously hostile to one another, the mystery of the wisdom of God made known in the boundless riches of Christ.  The writer does not believe this mystery that evokes prayer and worship can be discovered or known; it can only be received (that is, made known) by revelation.”[iv]

            So the author prays that those who hear his words as they gather in community to worship may receive such a revelation. Revelation is the “aha” moment when something suddenly becomes clear to us, when something that the mind cannot comprehend bursts into blossom in the heart.  The mind may be able to describe why the sky is a brilliant mix of reds, yellows and orange as the sun sets.  The heart knows in that moment to “thank God” for the gift of being in the right place at the right time to take in such a breathtaking sight.

            Writing of the pastor’s prayer found in Ephesians, Eugene Peterson says: “Paul’s prayer for his congregation is nothing if not exuberant. There is nothing cautious or re-strained in his prayer.  As he prays for the Ephesians, the intercessions exude generosity: ‘riches of his glory…power through his Spirit…rooted and grounded in love…power to comprehend…breadth and length and height and depth…the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge…filled with all the fullness…abundantly far more that we can ask or imagine… We pray,’ says Peterson, ‘in a household of extravagance.”[v]

            Peterson notes that the pastor’s prayer is based on the abundance provided by God rather than the neediness of humanity.  In contrast to the prayers of intercession which we pray, asking for help or guidance or healing on behalf of someone in need, Peterson says the prayer we are hearing this morning “flow out of the plenitude of God.”[vi]

            Such a posture of prayer, rooted in the “boundless riches” of God differs greatly from the fear-mongering that feeds on images of scarcity.  Instead of taking a lesson from the birds of the air who trust God’s provision even as they do their part to receive it, the voices of our age en-courage us to make sure we have more than enough. In today’s Gospel reading, Andrew is the spokesman for the fear of not having enough when he says of the five loaves and two fish, “…what are they among so many people?”[vii]

            What might it take to help us know that God will take care of us?  It takes a revelation.

            Eugene Peterson and his wife, Jan, have two friends named Fred and Cheryl.  Thirty some years ago Fred and Cheryl traveled to Haiti to adopt a five-year-old girl named Addie, whose parents had been killed in an automobile accident.  At the airport, as they walked toward the plane that would bring her to her new home, the little girl “reached up and slipped her hands into the hands of her new parents whom she had just met.” Looking back on that moment, Fred and Cheryl described it to their friends as “a ‘birth’ moment, (and told) how the  innocent, fear-less trust expressed in that physical act of grasping their hands seemed almost as miraculous as the times their two sons slipped out of the birth canal 15 and 13 years earlier.”[viii]

             The story goes on, so I’ll let Peterson tell it from here: “That evening, back home in Ari-zona, they sat down to their first supper together with their new daughter. There was a platter of pork chops and a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. After the first serving, the two teenage boys kept refilling their plates. Soon the pork chops had disappeared and the potatoes were gone. Addie had never seen so much food on one table in her whole life.  And she had never seen so much food disappear so fast. Her eyes were big as she watched her new brothers, Thatcher and Graham, satisfy their ravenous teenage appetites.”

            “Fred and Cheryl noticed that Addie had become very quiet and realized that something was wrong—agitation…bewilderment…insecurity?  Cheryl guessed that it was the disappearing food. She suspected that because Addie had grown up hungry, when food was gone from the table she might be thinking that it would be a day or more before there was more to eat. Cheryl had guessed right.  She took Addie’s hand and led her to the bread drawer and pulled it out, showing her a back-up of three loaves.  She took her to the refrigerator, opened the door, and showed her the bottles of milk and orange juice, the fresh vegetables, jars of jelly and jam and peanut butter, a carton of eggs, and a package of bacon. She took her to the pantry with its bins of potatoes, onions, and squash, and the shelves of canned goods—tomatoes and peaches and pickles. She opened the freezer and showed Addie three or four chickens, a few packages of fish, and two cartons of ice cream. All the time she was reassuring Addie that there was lots of food in the house, that no matter how much Thatcher and Graham ate and how fast they ate it, there would be a lot more where that came from. She would never go hungry again.”

            “Cheryl didn’t just tell her she would never go hungry again. She showed her what was in those drawers and behind those doors, named the meats and vegetables, placed them in her hands. It was enough. Food was there, whether she could see it or not. Her brothers were no longer rivals at the table. She was home.  She would never go hungry again.”

            Peterson concludes: “Whenever I read and pray this prayer of Paul’s I think of Cheryl, gently leading Addie by the hand through a food tour of  the kitchen and pantry, reassuring her of  the ‘boundless riches’ and ‘all the full-ness’ inherent in the household in which she now lives.”[ix]

            It was a moment of revelation.  George Stroup says: “In revelation I am not the one who knows, but the one who is known, and what I know is the experience of being known by some-one other than myself…this knowledge is a gift and not a discovery…the Spirit and not the in-dividual is the primary agent in this disclosure.”[x] The Spirit moved the little girl to place her hand in the hands of her parents. The Spirit led Cheryl to take the little girl by the hand to  dispel her fears.  Paul prays that we all might experience such moments.

            Paul’s perception of what we need is revealed in his prayer:  He tells us: “ I pray that, according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you be strengthened in your inner being with power through the Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith as you are being rooted and grounded in his love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with the fullness of God.”

            This is what Paul believes we need:  Inner strength provided by God. Christ, dwelling in the heart. Being rooted and grounded in love—not just any form of love, mind you, the love of Christ. And what does that get you? “Filled with the fullness of God.

            Of all the New Testament writers, no one knew the need for God-provided inner strength more than Paul. He it was who wrote of doing the very thing he didn’t want to do,  and being unable to live on his own the standards he held dear. Rather than give up and fall into despair, he knew where the power to overcome human weakness is to be found: in Christ, dwelling in the heart. It was Paul who penned those encouraging words, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Temptation, discouragement, challenges, disappointments can all be dealt with when Christ dwells in our hearts.

            Presbyterian minister Karen Chakoian suggests that “having Christ dwell in our hearts is akin to having a new person move into your household.  If they’re just visiting, it is all rather easy; you simply offer hospitality and try to practice good manners. But if someone moves in to stay, everything changes.  At first you try to hold on to your familiar patterns and routines, and the new member may work hard to accommodate you and stay out of your way. But eventually they make their mark. Conversations change. Relationships realign.  Household tasks increase and responsibilities shift. So it is when Christ moves into the hearts of Christians. This isn’t merely tweaking old patterns; everything changes.”[xi]  

            The nature of those changes is hinted at by some of the other images piled up by Paul in his prayer.  When he prays that we might “be rooted and grounded in love,” be borrows two images, one from botany and the other from building.  To be rooted speaks of two benefits observed in the world of gardens and forests.  To be rooted means having the means to draw moisture and nutrients from the soil in order to grow and mature. To be rooted is also to have stability thanks to a network of anchoring fibers large and small, which hold fast against the blowing wind.

            That stability is behind the architectural image used by Paul. To be grounded is to have a proper foundation. For every inch to be built above ground, there is a formula to determine how deep and wide one must dig below the surface in order to provide a suitable foundation.  What the root system of a plant and the foundation of a building share is the fiber by fiber, brick by brick process that comes together over time.  It doesn’t happen overnight.

            We are not born with the ways of God’s love encoded in our genes, ready to be released when the moment is right.  The fibers of the root system and the bricks of the foundation are put in place a little at a time.  We need help if those roots are to grow or those bricks are to be  lined up correctly. Society does not necessarily provide what we need. The faith community is charged with the task of passing on what needs to be known.  That is why Paul is praying that you and I will have someone to nourish our roots and hand us the bricks.

That is why the Psalm today spoke of passing know-ledge from generation to generation.  That is why it is important for us to continue to model for one another what it looks like to be filled with the fullness of God. You don’t have to be able to spout doctrine or defend denominational differences. All you have to do is let Christ dwell in your heart so the Spirit can guide what you do.  What that looks like is the neighbor who is willing to lend a hand; the volunteer who could be weeding his garden but carves out a morning a week to touch the lives of people who are lonely; the wise one who listens to the problem poured out and asks a simple question that brings to light a possible solution. 

These are not earth shattering events, but they are life-changing. Those rooted and grounded in love, those in whom Christ dwells, are the ones who set aside the task in order to care for the people beside them; who are able to get beyond pointing out what is wrong in order to show what is right; who are able to take the best of what was or what is and use it to build toward what can and will be.

            Don’t get the idea that such folks have gifts you have missed out on…because the people described a moment ago are among us every week. You see them in the mirror every day, and between Sundays you are doing and saying things that show your roots are deep and your foundation  strong.  As Jesus did with five barley loaves and two fish, the Spirit takes what we offer and does marvelous things.

The wonder of it all, led the apostle and pastor writing the Ephesians to bubble over in praise. From his prison cell Paul celebrated what happens when God takes our acts of faithful-ness and multiplies our efforts.  

            “Now to him who by the power at work in us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church, and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

[i] Scott Shauf, Working Preacher.com, Tenth Sunday after Pentecost, Commentary on Ephesians 3. 14-21), p. 1
[ii] N.T. Wright, Paul for Everyone, The Prison Letters, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002, 2004), p. 38, 39
[iii][iii] George w. Stroup, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3, “Theological Perspective,” (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 280
[iv] ibid
[v] Eugene H. Peterson, Practice Resurrection- a conversation on growing up in Christ, (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2010), p. 157
[vi] ibid., p. 158
[vii] John 6. 9
[viii] ibid., Peterson, p. 159
[ix] ibid., p. 159-160
[x] ibid., Stroup
[xi] Karen Chakoian, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3, “Theological Perspective,” (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 280

 

Dietary Delights Delivered    A Sermon preached at First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, PA on July 18, 2021 - Scripture Texts:  Joshua 5. 10-12; John 6. 35, 48-51

Forty-three years ago my bride and I traveled from the foothills of New Jersey’s Watchung Mountains through the Delaware Water Gap, across the Poconos and Endless Mountains heading for a little town along the Susquehanna River just west of the Catskills. We were on are way to what was called “a yoked field,” to serve two small churches. I was piloting a U-Haul.  Jan followed in the eight-year-old Chevy Nova.

            We arrived at our new manse, in our new town, in new county, in a new state by mid-afternoon.  A couple of re-tired farmers, some other men from both churches, and a few high school kids were waiting on the porch to help un-load the truck.  What had taken a few days to load from three locations in New Jersey was unloaded and placed in the appropriate rooms in no time at all.

            Dinnertime was approaching, and we had not given any thought to what our first meal in our new home might be.  To our surprise and delight, when Jan unpacked the cooler, she discovered the refrigerator had been stocked with the essentials…milk, eggs, butter, orange juice and the like.  When the cabinets were opened to put away the boxes and cans we’d moved from our seminary apartment, we found an assortment of goods collected by both of the Women’s Fellowship groups.

            One of the members of the Pulpit Nominating Committee stopped by with a plate of goodies and asked if we had plans for dinner.  She and her husband were taking their son to a favorite restaurant on his last night home before heading back to Cornell, would we like to join them? Half an hour later, having quickly cleaned up from our moving day grubbiness, we were seated in their car on the way to a lovely dinner.  When we slipped between the sheets later that night, we were grateful for all the ways God had provided for us as we arrived in a new place.

            Joshua and the Israelites crossed the Jordan and entered the Promised Land and set up their camp at Gilgal. Before they commenced the campaign to occupy the places God was giving them, they caught up on some religious practices that had not been possible or practical while on the move in the wilderness. The men and boys of the generation born in the tents in the wilderness had not been marked with the sign of God’s covenant with Abraham.  So the first thing God told Joshua to do after he had built a muddy memorial altar of stones from the river bottom, was to see to the circumcision of all the males.  Then they took some time off to heal.

            That first ancient rite set things in order for the people to engage in a second custom not possible during their wilderness wanderings.  Without grain to make the unleavened bread that had been part of the meal the night before the Exodus, the people had not been able to celebrate the Passover.  But now, as the fourteenth day of the first month and the first full moon of the year approached, it was time to do as Moses had commanded. 

            Following the instructions Joshua remembered having heard from the lips of Moses, the people prepared and celebrated their liberation by God from slavery in Egypt.  Passover coincides with the spring harvest, and so the fruit of the land to which God led them was ripe for picking.  So, with the grain from the fields they had not planted, they made unleavened bread. 

            Writing in the original Interpreter’s Bible, one scholar reflects on the significance of these first events in the Promised Land:  “It was a renewal of the old covenant—a fresh commitment of the people to Yahweh.  In obedience to the law of God their first act in the Promised Land was to seal their compact.  In much the same way as we regularly partake of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper as a perpetual memorial of Christ’s broken body and shed blood—broken and shed for us.”[i]

            With the resources of the land now at their disposal, God having provided food for them in a new way, the manna and quails which had been their source of sustenance was no longer necessary.  The bread of heaven which they found on the ground each morning for breakfast and the dinnertime delivery of exhausted quails ceased.  From that day forward, they would rely on the produce of the land “flowing with milk and honey.”  God was still providing for them, just in a new way.

            These almost, sort-of, maybe, post-pandemic days have put us in a position with some simi-larities to Joshua’s band of wilderness wanderers figuring out how to live in a new set of circum-stances.  The old has passed away. What was is no longer the same, and much as we would like to, there is no way to go back to the way things were.

            Like the Israelites of old, we have an opportunity, not only to follow Joshua’s lead and recommit ourselves to God, but also to embrace the possibilities that come with every new beginning. Careful not to settle in too quickly, or expect God to do all the delivery work, providing manna and quails we no longer need, it is ours to get on with the work we have been called to do: sharing the good news, caring for those who have need, teaching each other the ways of God and holding each other accountable to live them.

            The manse we moved into up in Unadilla, New York had been rented after my predecessor left to become an Air Force Chaplain.  The renters planted a garden in the spring.  That summer, when my call became official, they were given proper notice to vacate in time for the church to do some renovations before we arrived.  By the time we pulled up with our U-Haul, the garden was overgrown with weeds. Busy with unpacking, jumping into the activity of two different Vacation Bible Schools, and getting to know our two new congregations, we didn’t have time to get out and weed that garden.

            We had already experienced our first frost by the last week of September when my family came to visit for my Installation as Pastor. As we walked out back to show off the spacious yard, we dis-covered that the weeds, killed by the frost, had wilted to the ground revealing stalks of Brussels Sprouts, rows of carrots and onions, which we were able to harvest.  Like the Israelites in their new home, we, in ours, had been blessed to receive from God’s bounty that which we had not planted or tended. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!

            Of course, the following spring, with baby number one on the way, I had to put some effort into that garden behind the manse if we were to reap any rewards a second time.  With a borrowed rototiller and advice from an elder who was a prolific gardener, our patch of dirt grew to yield delights to be cleaned and eaten, or canned and frozen to be enjoyed in winter.

            In the Promised Land, the Israelites had to contribute some sweat equity to the harvest the next time around.  The vineyards and olive groves needed pruning and tending. The rest of the produce, the grains, the fruits and vegetables required work: preparing soil, planting seeds, pulling weeds, digging ditches and building aqueducts to provide water, carrying heavy vessels from the village well. That’s just the beginning. Later, the luscious fruit of field and vine required picking and the grain had to be harvested. But wait, there’s more:  grapes and olives must be pressed to make the wine and the oil, and the grain must be separated from its stalk and ground before it is mixed to make dough and baked. Only then can one give thanks for daily bread.

            With all the bounty of the “land flowing with milk and honey” at their disposal, and all the effort required to get itfrom field to table, the Israelites would face the temptation to forget that God was the source of it all, and worse, to take credit for putting food on the table. Remembering whom to thank and keeping it all in perspective takes some effort.

There is a scene in the 1965 movie Shenandoah where Jimmy Stewart, playing a farmer offers the blessing before Thanksgiving dinner: He prays:

Lord, we cleared this land, we plowed it, sowed it, and harvested.

We cooked the harvest. It wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t done it all ourselves.

We worked dog-bone hard for every crumb and morsel,

but we thank you just the same for this food we are about to eat. Amen.[ii]  

            Like their parents and grandparents who escaped slavery in Egypt and wandered in the wilder-ness led by Moses, those who followed Joshua across the Jordan into the promised land would have to learn to trust God as their provider.  The learning curve for the wilderness wanderers came in fits and starts as they rejoiced over and then forgot all God’s benefits to them.  The miraculous rescue when the sea parted for them and then overwhelmed Pharaoh’s army was forgotten as soon as their canteens and lunch boxes were empty. Yet the gifts kept coming in response to their complaints and the prayers of Moses: water from a rock; manna from heaven; quails raining down from the sky.

            Biblical scholar, Susan Hylen describes how the manna sent by God contributed to the educa-tion of the Hebrew people in the wilderness: “Manna had to be collected according to the instructions God gave (Exodus 16. 16-26), and therefore was a training ground for learning to trust God’s word.  Deuteronomy summarizes the story this way: “Remember the long way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, in order to humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commandments. He humbled you by letting you hunger, then by feeding you with manna, with which neither you nor your ancestors were acquainted, in order to make you understand that one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord” (Deuteronomy 8. 2-3).  The memory of the manna story was not simply that God fed Israel, but that eating manna was akin to learning God’s wisdom and abiding by God’s law.”[iii]

            In the sixth chapter of the Gospel of John, Jesus says he is the bread of life, and compares the benefit he brings to manna, the daily bread which sustained the Israelites in the wilderness.  The benefit of the manna was temporary.  Jesus on the other hand offers nourishment which will last for all eternity. “Whoever eats this bread will live forever!”

            Jesus was speaking to some folks who were trying to get their minds around how this ordinary guy from up the road, whose parents they knew, could claim to be from heaven, and offer bread that would eliminate hunger and thirst. One New Testament student sums up the difficulties of under-standing what Jesus is saying for his original audience, and for us now:

            “For his hearers in Capernaum, fresh from the experience of having their stomach filled, this must have seemed an enormous promise.  For the reader seeking to make sense of this claim today, the unavoidable context is that even among those who have moved from ‘seeing’ to ‘believing in Jesus, many experience the objective realities of hunger, thirst, frailty, and loss on a daily basis.”[iv]

            Those listening to Jesus that day brought up the story of Moses delivering manna to the hungry Hebrews in the wilderness.  Jesus points out that it was not Moses, but God who provided their nourish-ment, as long as they followed the instructions given about how much to collect. Trusting God’s word was the key.

            Once again, Susan Hylen helps us understand that the bread Jesus talks about, like the manna God sent, is about more than just filling the belly. She writes: “Those who did not gather the manna as instructed saw the extra manna rot, or they found that none was available to gather on the Sabbath (Exodus 16:20-27). Living by manna meant living by God’s word.”[v]

            Following up on this, Hylen adds: “The bread Jesus provides is similar…Since the opening verses, John has been associating Jesus with God’s word or wisdom, and the manna metaphor continues that important idea and extends it in a new way.  Jesus the word is life-giving in the same ways that the manna was. He communicates God’s will and through that word, cultivates a relationship of trust between human and divine.”[vi]

Tomorrow morning, this place will be all about building trust between some little humans and God. The joyful noise of Vacation Bible School will fill this space.  This year’s theme is “Come to the Table.”  Our young ones will spend each morning exposed in a variety of ways to five stories from the Gospels of Luke and John.  According to the instructional materials given to activity leaders, “These stories show Jesus eating with unexpected people, providing food for a crowd, demonstrating humility, and extending welcome and forgiveness. … Come to the Table invites children to see that God lives and welcomes all people and challenges them to share that same love and hospitality in their everyday lives.”[vii]

            The memory verse for the week is the first verse of this morning’s reading from the Gospel of John:

Jesus said to them, 'I am the bread of life.

Whoever comes to me will never be hungry,

and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty. [viii]

            On the way to trusting that promise, the children will be introduced to the seven species of agricultural gifts the people of Israel depended upon: wheat, barley, grapes, figs, pomegranates, olives and dates. Each day they will learn about the staple foods many in our world depend on today: rice, wheat, corn, cassava, and fish.

Hopefully, the discussion of the various staple foods will lead to some understanding of the promise contained in the memory verse.  According to a Wikipedia site devoted to Ancient Israelite Cuisine, bread “provided from 50 to 70 percent of an ordinary person’s daily calories.”[ix] A Baptist Pastor named David Hull is our instructor on the difference between bread in those days and the bread we put on our tables:

            “Today we use utensils to move food from a plate into our mouths.  Bread is often served at meals, but it is seen as a ‘starter’ or a ‘side.’  Many who are watching their diets forgo the bread.  Therefore, when we hear that Jesus is the ‘bread of life,’ we can too easily think in terms of a metaphor for something that is as optional as a dinner roll,” explains Pastor Hull.

            “The way Jesus and his contemporaries ate was radically different from the way most Wester-ners eat,” he continues.  “No utensils were used.  A person ate with his or her hands. Bread was usually used to dip into the food and bring the food from the dish to the mouth.” 

            Pastor Hull goes on to say:  “the Western mind-set allows us to think of bread as an extra that we can take or leave; but Jesus was operating with an image that was essential to the process of eating.  In fact, the bread used for dipping was actually the means by which someone partook of a meal.  Bread, then, was not an extra to be chosen or omitted; it was how persons accessed the food that was placed before them.”[x] 

            Bread is how you access the main course.  And the main course, as described in the Gospel of John, is life.  Jesus, the Bread of Life, leads us to the main course, to life, to God.  Jesus, the Bread of life is the gift of God for the people of God. Feast on this bread which John tells us is the Word of God. Be nourished by it; feed neighbors far and near in gratitude for the

[i] Joseph R. Sizoo, The Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. 2., (Nashville, Abingdon Press, 1953), p. 575
[ii] Shendoah, 1965, film clip on YouTube, “Table Grace in Movie Shenandoah
[iii] Susan Hylen, “Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost,” workingpreacher.com, August 9, 2015), p. 1 of print out
[iv] Deidre King Hainsworth, Feasting on the Gospels, John, Vol. 1, Chapters 1-9, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), p. 192 
[v] ibid., Hylen, p. 2 of print out 
[vi] ibid.
[vii] Come to the Table, Create & Discover Art & Science Leader Guide, (Elgin, IL, Brethren Press, 2020), p. 2
[viii] John 6. 35
[ix] Wikepedia, Ancient Israelite Cuisine, p. 4 of print out
[x] David W. Hull, Feasting on the Gospels, John, Vol. 1, Chapters 1-9, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014) , p. 197

The Power of Words      a Sermon based on Mark 6. 14-29  preached at First Presbyterian Church, Clarks, Summit, PA on July 11, 2021

       The voice that cried in the wilderness: “prepare the way of the Lord,” was silenced.  According to the Gospel of Matthew, when Jesus heard about John’s death, he got into “a boat and went to a deserted place by himself.”[i] It is a snapshot of the universal need to grieve when someone important to us has died.  Lately, we’ve watched as family members and friends in Florida await the chance to begin that process.  Sadly, we’ve witnessed the stunned reactions of the people of Haiti, as they wonder “what is next” after the sudden, brutal murder of their president has overshadowed their lives.

            Quietly, the disciples of John the Baptist collected what was left of his body “and laid it in a tomb.”  Where are the crowds who flocked to the wilderness to wade in the water and seek a new start?  Is there no one to step up and tell a story of the turn around their life took as a result of his call to re-pentance?  Like so many families and circles of friends had to do when Covid 19 came along, a few stand in for the many to do what needs to be done, in the hope that someday soon, when conditions are better, the necessary rituals can be observed. Today, we do for John what could not be done for him at the time. We remember him, we seek to under-stand what led to his murder, and we give thanks for his legacy.

            The life of John the Baptist is a tribute to the power of words from beginning to end.  When his birth was announced to his senior citizen father taking his turn as the priest in the temple, old Zechariah was struck dumb for doubting the word of the Lord.  When he was born, his mother said his name was to be John. The neighbors insisted the miracle child of Elizabeth should be named Zechariah after his father. The old man asked for something to write on, and scrawled:  “His name is John.” And with that he was given back the gift of words.

            Years later, when John started preaching, his words echoed across the wilderness and drew people from near and far.  They listened to his call to repentance. They waded into the Jordan to be baptized.  They asked what they could do to bear witness to their changed lives. “Share what you have with those who have not,” he told the people.  “Do your work honestly,” he told the tax collectors. “Don’t throw your weight around and act like bullies,” he told the soldiers.

            It was the power of his words which brings us this day to stand with his disciples in tribute to a life ended by a brutal act which, like so many others, demonstrates that bad things happen to good people.  He spoke truth to power and power’s wife didn’t like what she heard.  Herod believed the truth shared by a guy in an old bathtub replacement commercial who spoke of a happy wife as the secret to a happy life.

            The late William Placher attempted to untangle the twisted limbs of the family tree of Herod the Great. He writes:  “Herod Antipas, the Herod of this story, first married the daughter of the king of Nabatea, a land east of his own territory.  Then he fell in love with Herodias, his niece, who was already married to another of her uncles (he was also named Herod, but, to minimize confusion, Mark calls him Philip).  Antipas’s wife, understandably annoyed, left him and went back to her father, so that a poten-tially useful alliance turned into a threat from an angry father-in-law.  In fact, the king of Nabatea did later attack Herod Antipas, and the Romans had to come and bail him out.”[ii]

            Placher’s survey of the family that put the fun in dysfunctional continues: “Herod Antipas, then married Herodias, who under Jewish law could not divorce her husband (only men could initiate di-vorce), so she was now technically married to two brothers, both of whom were also her uncles.  Herod Antipas was clearly in violation of Leviticus 18.16, which prohibits marrying your brother’s wife if the brother is still alive.  Salome, Herodias’s daughter by her first marriage, (the young girl who danced at the party,) was thus Antipas’s niece on her father’s side, grandniece on her mother’s side, and now step-daughter.”[iii]   

            It was the power of words that led Herod to arrest the preacher whose words  intrigued him.  John’s offence was to call the king out for his unlawful marital status, which made Herodias mad enough to kill. She wanted her husband to have John permanently silenced.  Herod would not do it, so she nursed a grudge, waited for an opportunity, and pounced when it presented itself.

            It was also the power of words which prevented Herod from carrying out his wife’s wishes.  Mark, is usually spare with his gospel words.  Back in the first chapter, he used only five of them to tell about John’s arrest. They came as part of the introduction to the preaching of Jesus.  He wrote: “Now after John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news.’” (1.14-15). At the time, Mark offered no explanation of why John was arrested, and not a word about where he was held or how long he was to be imprisoned.

            Now, five chapters later Mark spells it all out.  His truth telling was the cause for his arrest war-rant.  Herod’s wife wanted him dead.  The reason she didn’t get her way immediately, is described in a most intriguing pair of sentences that explain why Herodias could not convince Herod to have John killed.  Mark explains: “Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he pro-tected him.  When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed and yet liked to listen to him.”  In a book called Through Mark’s Eyes, Puck Purnell, an Episcopal priest from Connecticut wrote of Herod’s reason for keeping John alive this way:  “When Herod heard John speak, he was puzzled and impressed at the same time.”[iv]

            Buried deep within this story of misused power, lust, political ambition, face-saving and murder is a complex relationship between the holy man and the king. Herod’s interest in what John had to say prevents us from dismissing him as the purely evil, black-hatted villain. 

            Theologian Douglas John Hall says:  “There is that within him (Herod)—that ‘Augustinian’ residue of remembrance and hope—that recognizes in the witness of John the kind of human authen-ticity to which he too is called. The forces of self-aggrandizement and lust that are powerfully at work in his life—are nonetheless countered by an ancient memory of good.[v]

            There is a danger whenever we gather for a Memorial Service to make of the deceased more than they were. On the way to the cemetery one day long ago, a funeral director told me the story of the service where the preacher was going on eloquently about the goodness of the man who had died.  As the accolades kept coming, it caused some discomfort among the family.  Finally, the widow elbowed her eldest son and whispered: “Go up there and look in the box and see if that’s your father he’s talking about.”

            So, we ought to be careful about making John the Baptist the unflawed hero wearing a white hat. As a prophet, he could be unbending.  Those who call others to account can  be inflexible.  On top of that there is another story involving John, who begins to doubt he was right about Jesus being the mightier one who was to baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire.

            All this to say that we do well to guard against pigeon-holing people as being all good or all bad. At a time when the airwaves are filled with people demonizing or bestowing sainthood on athletes, celebrities, politicians, or the latest star of a YouTube clip, we should be cautious about jumping on the bandwagon. We are, all of us, a mix of laudable motives and unrealized best intentions.

            When the scandal hits and the treasurer of the little league a few towns down the line is caught using concession stand money to fill the slots at the casino, that doesn’t mean her work as a Sunday School teacher or Cub Scout Den Mother was a sham.  When some notorious sinner is photographed going to church, that doesn’t mean it is just for show. If the hero is lauded for running into the burning building it is not guarantee that he won’t make an insensitive comment to his wife at dinner.  The power of words to hurt, hinder, label and libel is something for us all to keep in mind.  The decline in our public discourse has amply demonstrated the proverbial wisdom of the saying: “Mud thrown is ground lost.”

            Let’s take another look at Herod and John’s interaction through the eyes of Douglas John Hall. He writes: “What makes the encounter of the prophet and the king so poignant is that they understand each other well enough. The puppet king knows enough about truth to recognize his own falseness; and the prophet is sufficiently acquainted with temptation to desire the monarch’s liberation from it. Their meeting could have been redemptive, but one great flaw prevented it:  Herod’s insatiable quest for pre-eminence —having it, keeping it, flaunting it.  Not sexual lust but the lust for power is the problem this text illuminates.”[vi]

            It was the power of words that painted Herod into the corner.  Keeping an open ended promise made while his powers of reason were diminished by too much elbow bending at his party was his downfall.  As Matthew Skinner points out, Herod’s “pledge to his daughter—offering up to half of a kingdom that is not even his to grant—is an arrogant boast, meant to impress the other elites in atten-dance.”[vii] 

Herod made his promise in the presence of others. The room goes quiet, as every ear is keen to hear what the young lady will claim as her prize. Picture her saying: “Give me a minute to think about it and I’ll get back to you.”  The noise of the party resumes, cups clinking, someone telling a bawdy joke, people laughing. The dancer slips over to the table where her mother is seated, leans down, whispers in her mother’s ear: “What should I ask for?”

            Herodias seizes the moment knowing Herod is caught in a trap from which there is no escape. “Ask for the head of John the Baptizer.”  The room goes silent again as people see the dancer gliding across the floor toward Herod with a conspiratorial grin on her face. “This is gonna be good!” someone says across one of the tables.

            She speaks:  “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”  Herod’s heart sinks. The man his wife hated. The man he has tried to protect. The man whose words perplexed him and somehow touched him deep down, was doomed.

            Of course, he still had a choice.  He was the most powerful person in that corner of the land…or at least he was supposed to be. Still it was within his power to say “No.”  Or “I’ve changed my mind.” Or “two wrongs don’t make a right.” 

            But he didn’t. Mark says the request grieved him deeply, “yet out of regard for his oaths and for his guests, he did not want to refuse her.” One New Testament professor dissects the scene this way:  “Herod is caught between his respect for John, and his need to save face. Mark insists on showing Herod, despite his feelings for John, remained ultimately trapped by his own political ambitions.”  He goes on to point out that “Later in the Gospel Mark will portray Pilate as similarly caught between finding no guilt in Jesus and yet ‘wishing to satisfy the crowd.’  (15.14-15) In this way Mark undercuts the power of Herod, and later Pilate.  Such figures appear powerful…but they do not even have the character to do what they know to be right.”[viii] 

            How often have we seen that play out?  Two plans of action are presented, and after the pollsters or the big donors have been consulted, the nod goes to the one that will garner the most votes in the next election.  Two ways to spend a Saturday are outlined, and someone makes the choice to do what the current spouse proposes rather than what the kids from the first marriage were looking forward to doing.  The competing need of opening a shelter for the homeless and maintaining a residential neigh-borhood is presented to the Zoning Board.  Not-in-my-backyard wins that one most of the time.

            When Herod bows to the twin pressures of keeping his word to the dancing step-daughter and saving face among his invited guests who might consider him wishy-washy if he waffled on his pledge…one of the most gruesome sights in the Bible is recalled.  It brings us face to face with one of the hardest to understand truths of life: bad things do happen to good people…and often it is other peo-ple who are responsible for those bad things. Options have been weighed, choices have been made, and someone gets hurt in the process.

            Rabbi Harold Kushner’s best-selling book of yesteryear was entitled: “When Bad Things Happen to Good People.”  Bob Setzer, Jr. writes that people often got the first word in the title wrong, replacing the word, “when” with the word, “why.”  John Claypool, a pastor and seminary professor once asked the Rabbi why he didn't call his book “Why Bad Things Happen to Good People.” 

            Rabbi Kushner’s replied: “Becausethat book would have been three words long:  “I don’t know.”[ix] 

            So many times in our lives we are confronted with that question and that answer.  When a workman is crushed as a construction project goes wrong; when the popular high school student wraps her car around a tree just before graduation; in the days, weeks and months after the plane disappears over the ocean or the condominium collapses in the wee hours of the morning, we are left with  “I don’t know” as the unsatisfying answer to our quest to know “why?”

            Mark’s inclusion of the ghastly end to John the Baptist, foreshadows the equally barbaric end to the life of Jesus. It is another reminder that life is hard and being and doing good is no guarantee of safety or security.  Mark tells the story of John the Baptist losing his life to show us something about the power of words.  They can hurt or they help.  We have a choice every moment of every day as to what our words will do.

            Mark includes the story to encourage us to make the good choice.  Characteristically, Mark has sandwiched this horrible story between two others, and as always, that is no accident.  Before it is the account of the disciples being sent out two by two to teach and heal and carry out in many places what Jesus alone could do in only a few. 

            After Mark reports that John’s disciples had courageously claimed his body to give him a decent burial, Mark tells the story of the disciple's return which is interrupted by the feeding of the 5000.  In it, a long day of people listening to Jesus is followed by an impromptu picnic where five loaves and two fish fed the multitude.

            When we put Herod’s birthday bash and the feeding on the hillside back to back, Mark is reminding us that our words have the power to touch others in a good way or a bad one.  We can use our words to heal and to help or we can hurl them around in promises we ought not keep.  We can live by fearful self-interest or give ourselves in service to others.

            Herod ended up on the trash heap of history when the Romans exiled him, tired of his begging for a title they wouldn’t grant.  John the Baptist is remembered for paving the way for Jesus.  The power of his words live on as the followers of Jesus repeat and respond to his call to repentance, and become truth tellers and gospel proclaimers. May we honor John’s memory always. 

“Blessed are the dead who die in the spirit.

They rest from their labors, and their works follow them.”[x]

(c) 2021, James E. Thyren

[i] Matthew 14. 13
[ii] William C. Placher, Mark, Belief – A Theological Commentary on the Bible, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 93
[iii] ibid.
[iv] Puck Purnell, Through Mark’s Eyes, A Portrait of Jesus Based on the Gospel of Mark, (Nashville, KY; Abingdon Press, 2006, p. 41
[v] Douglas John Hall, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3) (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 238
[vi] ibid., p. 240
[vii] Matthew L. Skinner, Connections, A Lectionary Commentary for Preaching and Worship, (Louisville, KY, Westminster John Knox Press, 2021) Kindle location 4995
[viii] Joseph A. Bessler, Feasting on the Gospels, Mark, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), p. 176-8
[ix] Bob Setzer, Jr. Feasting on the Gospels, Mark, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), p. 176
[x] Revelation 14.13