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Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 9
38 “Teacher,” said John, “we saw someone driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us.”
39 “Do not stop him,” Jesus said. “For no one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, 40 for whoever is not against us is for us. 41 Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward.
42 “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them if a large millstone were hung around their neck and they were thrown into the sea.


I’m not going to suggest we’re some sort of secret society, but the ’65 babies in your midst know each other and share a special bond.

And we’re hardly babies, but somehow the name stuck, so the ’65 babies greet you and want to suggest that we are somehow unique. Part of our uniqueness is coming of age in what some have suggested is the true golden age of television, the 1970’s.

So two problems first: my professors would quickly argue that television (unlike film) is beneath the dignity of the pulpit, but they’re not here today, so bear with me. The second problem is defining my generation through television, and the shows we watched, but again, bear with me, because I think you will soon see my point.

I say “golden age” because if you take a typical Saturday night in 1973, home with a babysitter—never sure where my parents were—we would settle in and watch All in the Family, M*A*S*H, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, (and if the babysitter was really kind) the Carol Burnett Show. With Archie and Edith’s chairs currently on display in the Smithsonian Museum and a statue of Mary Tyler Moore in downtown Minneapolis (yes, throwing her hat) we get a sense of the iconic nature of these shows.

In the first example, we meet Archie, the bigoted everyman who tries to overcome every movement and counter-cultural moment the 1970’s can serve up. The show broke ground discussing racism, homosexuality, women’s liberation, rape, menopause, and more. Next up showed the Korean War, with the shadow of Vietnam in the minds of the viewer, and the tension between the doctors forced to leave lives of comfort and regular army, like Major Houlihan, as she tries to bring discipline and sense of duty to these male doctors. And Mary Tyler Moore, breaking ground by showing us an unmarried career-woman who defeats her boss with hard work and kindness. I think I fell asleep before Carol Burnett started.

Watching television the 1970’s also had an element of time travel to it, watching reruns of The Beverly Hillbillies, Gilligan’s Island, current shows set in the past like Happy Days, and of course the classics that I loved the most, Looney Tunes and The Little Rascals. It’s amazing that Our Gang, filmed between 1922 and 1938 was still a television staple, still entertaining generations of children, and still (in it’s way) breaking ground. Just the idea of white and black children playing together was unique, and the way certain ideas were handled, such as typical boy behaviour (they stated the He-Man Women-Haters Club) and the way the club was undermined by Alfalfa’s abiding love for Darla.

Okay, time to say goodbye to nostalgia, but Our Gang does allow us to jump to the reading for today, when we meet the Gospel’s own version of the He-Man Women-Haters Club:

38 “Teacher,” said John, “we saw someone driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us.”
39 “Do not stop him,” Jesus said. “For no one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, 40 for whoever is not against us is for us.

Three years ago, or six years ago (where does the time go?) I described the theme of this passage as ‘the Jesus doctrine,‘ (“whoever is not against us is for us”) and drew a sharp contrast to a certain former president who said the precise opposite (‘you’re either with us or you’re against us’). Sometimes these sermons write themselves, but this time I’m struck by this idea of the disciples deciding who was ‘not one of us.’

And as human behaviour goes, this is pretty standard stuff. The disciples, like everyone who follows in this tradition, will seek to define insiders and outsiders. Part of this desire will come in the heat of conflict, as the Jewish-Christian movement moves out of the synagogues and two religious groups emerge. And part of this desire will come as the circle of followers expands, and each new circle is farther from Jesus and the first twelve. “Not one of us,” is hard to define, but the disciples do their best to try.

But Jesus has another idea. He decides to set aside familiarity and look instead at intent. As the bonds become more tenuous and the nature of the movement shifts, Jesus looks into the heart of the potential follower rather than who knows them or who can vouch for them. In other words, it’s judging actions rather than social circle, it’s looking for fellow-travellers rather than members of the same club. And then a further shift:

41 Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward.
42 “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them if a large millstone were hung around their neck and they were thrown into the sea.

Ironically, this is a passage that is often used to defend Christians, positing that there is some enemy that might undermine belief and that they deserve the rather graphic treatment of the millstone around the neck. I’m not sure this is correct, and I would suggest instead that Jesus is insisting the millstone is reserved for those who attack the vulnerable. Last week, Jesus took a little one in his arms and said receiving the vulnerable is receiving me. This week he goes a step further to say causing the vulnerable to stumble, to lose faith in Jesus’ unique concern for them, is an extreme offence. If you’re not against us, you are for us, and the most vulnerable require protection.

And that brings us to this week. Also born in 1965, Judge Kavanagh, is one half of an unfolding story that has gripped many over than past few days. On the other side is Professor Ford, who has accused the Supreme Court nominee of attempted rape in 1982, she just 15 and the judge then a lad of 17.

I think it’s important to begin with the tragic aspects of this story. Whatever the truth, the misuse of the allegations for partisan purposes is tragic. The damage to the families involved is tragic. And the terrible events of abuse and misconduct that this event has surfaced, some telling their stories for the very first time this week, is tragic even as it provides the thinnest of silver linings. If this event prompts greater dialogue and understanding, if it allows some to seek healing following years of silence, them some good will come from this most difficult of weeks.

I think we can thank Sen. Jeff Flake, for being brave enough to trade his vote for a week of investigation, and even if there is some cynical element to his move, it does allow a time of pause and reflection in the midst of these rapidly unfolding events. It allows us to put the week in the context of the #MeToo movement and the extent to which violence and misconduct toward women toward women and girls is being addressed at this moment in time.

For the male preacher, this is not a simple task. As a “pro-feminist” ally of women who have suffered abuse of any form, I hesitate to speak without naming my own “role” in the story, namely the ways in which my experience is profoundly different from my female colleagues and the women and girls I have ministered to. For example:

I’ve seldom experience fear when walking at night, or alone in the church.
I don’t face scrutiny over the way I dress or present myself.
I can offer opinions without having to establish my credibility first.
I can offer strong opinions, and I can even shout now and again without begin labelled hysterical, strident or bitchy.
I never have to endure “mansplaining” or other forms of condescension.
I’ve never been the first man to serve in a pulpit, nor has anyone ever suggested that I don’t look like a “leader.”
I have never had anyone suggest that I can’t be heard, nor that my voice doesn’t somehow carry.
Whenever I have presented myself as a victim, I have always been believed.

#MeToo is a challenge and an opportunity. It is a challenge for men to stop talking and truly listen to the voices of woman and girls, and an opportunity to learn and begin to understand an experience that is generally far beyond the experience of men. It is a chance for women to say “whoever is not against us is for us,” and find allies among the men who are willing to listen and try to help. It is an opportunity to support the most vulnerable, and recognize that the heart of the Christian message is never far from giving a cup of water in Jesus’ name and ministering to those in need.

From those half-remembered times in my childhood, and years before, we have been confronted by vexing issues and troubling times. It has been reflected in the films and television we watch, the people we know and the situations we have encountered. There is nothing new about the challenges we face, only the way we address them. A moment has come when some will need to find silence and just listen: to the voices from the margins—from those who have lacked power and those who have suffered abuse.

And as always, it belongs to the church: creating a place where some can find comfort, others challenge, remembering that Jesus walks with both. Amen.

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 12:44 PM