Pentecost 19 B: Accepting a Cup of Water

Posted by DJL on Sep 24, 2018 in Dear Partner | 11 comments

Mark 9:38-41*

Dear Partner in Preaching,

From whom would you accept a cup of cold water?

I ask that question because I think this week’s reading contains some of the more heart-breaking lines in Scripture: “And we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.”

Just pause and think about that for a moment. The disciples come across someone who, as they report to Jesus, was “casting out demons in your name.” That is, they came across someone who was relieving intense misery, following Jesus’ example (keep in mind that Jesus’ first act of power to demonstrate God’s coming kingdom is to cast out a demon), and doing so in Jesus’ name.

But none of that is enough. Why? “Because he was not following us.” Notice the shift in pronouns. This other exorcist is doing works of power in “your name,” but “not following us.” Apparently, it is not enough to be a follower of Jesus; you have to be a certain kind of follower. One that toes the line, that shares their theological commitments, that conforms to the disciples’ expectations, perhaps that is therefore under the oversight or control of the disciples.

It’s interesting to me that John, the disciple making the report, seems to expect Jesus’ approval. He is not asking a question, “should we have stopped him?” But rather offers an almost matter-of-fact account: “And we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.”

Far from giving his stamp of approval, however, Jesus corrects John and the others: “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.” It’s almost as if the disciples don’t realize how significant or challenging their mission is, and Jesus admonishes them to find and accept help wherever they can.

But then he goes further, saying: “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.” Notice what a small, even paltry example Jesus uses. In a mere sentence or two, Jesus has gone from talking about “deeds of power” to “giving someone a cup of water.” Strikingly, that small gesture alone, according to Jesus, is enough to secure one’s reward.

Scholars tend to agree that Mark is re-telling this scene from Jesus’ ministry in order to help deal with some of the internal conflicts with which his own community was struggling. We don’t know quite what the dividing lines were – gnostic vs. orthodox views of Jesus, those who suffered persecution in Jesus name vs. those who abandoned the faith and now wanted to come back, etc. – just that there were significant divisions. And so Mark invites his diverse and conflicted parishioners into Jesus’ story in order to reframe how they think about their lives, their commitments, their identity, and their vision of what constitutes authentic Christian community.

As I read this passage in light of the stark polarization of our times, I’m not sure how much has changed. Because it only takes the briefest of glances to notice that the church has not escaped this polarization but rather has allowed itself to be defined almost entirely by the terms of the current political climate. Christian leaders on the left and right – notice how hard it is to even have this conversation without using labels from the political context? – set the standards of what constitutes genuine faith: “You cannot be a Christian if you….” (here, fill in the blank):
voted for Donald Trump
didn’t vote for Donald Trump,
are pro-choice,
are pro-life,
aren’t LGBTQ-friendly,
advocate for LGBTQ rights.

It doesn’t take long to realize that both sides – and one of the sure signs of captivity of mind and spirit is when you can only think in dichotomies – serve as mirror twins of the other, not by any means in their convictions, simply in allowing their convictions to serve as the criteria by which to determine whether or not another person can bear the name of Christ. In other words, each side could easy say, “And we tried to stop him because he was not following us,” all the while singing a corrupted, but perhaps more honest, version of Marty Haugen’s beloved hymn: “All are welcome, all are welcome, all are welcome…unless you disagree with us.”

At this point, I want to be both careful and clear. I am not advocating for an a-political vision of Christianity. I believe God cares about our politics. Indeed, if we recall that the root of the word “politics” is the Greek polis – “people” – then it’s vitally important, I think, to affirm Luther’s conviction that God is at work in our political and governmental structures to care for God’s people.

But if not a-political, perhaps at least non-partisan. That is, can we imagine that God is at work in and through someone who bears the name of Christ but disagrees with us profoundly on an issue that is important to us? Can we make room in our worship and fellowship for those who disagree with us without labelling them? Can we try to stop, at least for a moment, trying to convince someone else of why they are wrong – or, worse, condemning because they believe differently than we do – and try to understand what experiences have shaped those views? Can we imagine that given the enormity of the challenges in front of us, there may be good ideas coming from persons who hold different perspectives and commitments than we do? Can we accept a cup of cold water from someone who does not follow us?

Even as I write these words, I hear my own objection that, while fine in theory, there are some really important issues on the table, and to back away them risks the rights and even safety of others. Absolutely. I am not advocating surrendering one’s convictions, but rather encouraging us to exercise what I might call “empathetic imagination” to try to know, understand, and even respect those with whom we disagree.

There are so few spaces in our world and culture right now that create space for genuine conversation where each party takes on the responsibility to be able to hear and describe the beliefs of the other, for heartfelt engagement that doesn’t devolve into partisan name-calling, and for respectful while also spirited disagreement that refuses to give up on the inherent worth and dignity of those in an opposing party. Can the church be that kind of place? Can our congregations?

This is not easy stuff, Dear Partner. But this might just be the week to ask the question of your hearers, to affirm a genuine welcome of all, to assure your respect for the integrity of the confession of your members even if – perhaps especially when – you disagree with how that confession plays out in the political arena.

Perhaps what I’m inviting, in light of Jesus’ admonition to his first-century disciples, is for his twenty-first century disciples to write a different ending to this scene. “We saw some people, Lord, who were (here, fill in the blank):
casting out demons,
working for justice,
advocating for those who have lost their jobs and feel left behind,
caring for veterans,
protesting injustice,
and more, all in your name. They do not follow us. In fact, we really disagree with them. But we did not try to stop them, and they gave us a cup of cold water. And that was cool.”

Thanks for your good work, Dear Partner. It’s rarely been a more challenging time to be a preacher of the Gospel, and rarely has it been more important. And so I thank God for you regularly.

Yours in Christ,
David

*Note: I realize this is only a portion of the assigned pericope. I increasingly find it helpful, when I focus so intently on particular verses, to read those verses rather than the whole. I think you could make an argument that what follows – Jesus’ profound concern for “little ones” (and the ensuing penalty for placing obstacles before them) has less to do with size or age and more with vulnerability, perhaps even cultural or political vulnerability – that is, those who are out of favor – and so extends the interpretation I am offering for vv.39-41. But that argument went beyond the space here.