Worth the Risk
Proper 10B
Mark 6:14-29
7/12/2009
Jim Melnyk

As a total aside to the sermon, did you notice that once again in the Bible we have a decision made by a poor little man after being led astray by a woman? Once again it's not the man's fault at all for the actions he's chosen to take – but the the fault of a woman who seduced him into his actions. Too bad the Biblical witness doesn't do a better job of holding Herod accountable for his actions toward John – poor guy, he just couldn't control himself – it was all his step-daughter's fault! Enough on that!

The past two Sundays we've looked a little at what it means as followers of Jesus to live in the between times, or neutral time, and what it means to live on the edge. Certainly the first followers of Jesus received some rather heady lessons on both early on in their ministry together. And it seems that the gospel witness proclaims a rather challenging truth – that in the kingdom of God the safest pathway is the one of profound personal risk, and the riskiest pathway is to play life safe. As Jesus said on more than one occasion, those who seek to save their lives will lose them, and those who lose their lives for the sake of the Good News will save their lives.
        
Today's Gospel passage brings us an object lesson about what can happen when we live life on the edge – when we risk proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ to a world that doesn't want to hear about grace – to a world that doesn't want to hear about compassion – that doesn't want to hear about mercy. Today's passage from Mark is an object lesson about what can happen when we risk proclaiming the Good News of God in Christ to a world that is threatened by shared power – threatened by inclusion – and threatened by the possibility that God can and does say a new thing in new generations.
        
In many ways the rather abrupt story about Herod's drunken oath and the execution of the Baptist feels like a non-sequitur – stuck in the middle of Jesus sending out the twelve on a mission trip through Galilee and their return – a bookmark of sorts – an aside by a writer who lost his train of thought. But there's a method in Mark's madness.
        
John the Baptist was a populist prophet. The people from all around the region were drawn to him and his message of repentance. His popularity, as much as his denunciation of Herod's marriage, was a threat to the king whose reign stood on shaky footings. Herod had taken care of the Baptist problem – first by imprisoning him, and then by executing him in a drunken response to his step-daughter's request. But now this Jesus character comes on the scene preaching repentance and the coming reign of God. His popularity is growing well beyond that of John's. People are flocking to Jesus and even his disciples are out on preaching missions drawing great crowds and doing wondrous things.
        
Jesus was a threat to Herod – even if Jesus wasn't challenging the king the way the Baptist had. Herod's reign wasn't respected by the populous – and the Baptist's charges had made for even more distrust among his subjects. What's more – Rome didn't appreciate the rise of such populist prophets – ones that offered any sort of challenge to Roman rule. And here was this Jesus – whose followers used titles for him Romans reserved only for the Emperor. No wonder Herod was troubled – it was enough worrying about his subjects, but to risk Rome's wrath…. No wonder the Good News preached by Jesus and his disciples put them on the edge – in a risky place – in a place reserved for the likes of the beheaded Baptist!
        
Mark's inclusion of the John/Herod story tells us that living the Gospel will draw attention to us – not always for the good. True, many will be drawn to our gospel witness by the power of its message. They will be drawn to our witness because somewhere deep within them they recognize the truth of compassion, mercy and grace – somewhere deep within they recognize the truth of God's all-inclusive love; they recognize the dignity of sharing power with rather than holding power over; they recognize that God truly can and does speak a new word to new generations as we become more attuned to the wonder of God's dream for creation.
        
But there will also be people who are deeply disturbed by our witness to the Good News of God in Christ. There will be those who disagree with how we interpret that Good News – they will be challenged by what we see as the inclusivity of the kingdom of God. “You want to let who in?!” There are those who will be greatly disturbed by the grace of God – challenged by its compassion – challenged by its mercy – challenged by the justice of God's kingdom – because for them, justice is about judgment and condemnation, whereas for God, justice is always about the mercy and love of God for all of creation.
        
Too many years ago when I was an undergrad student, there was a saying going around the evangelical circles: “If you were arrested today for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” You know, it's not a bad question – though I might look differently today at what might constitute the body of evidence used to convict me. If people aren't paying attention to us – either drawn in wonder to our witness for God in Christ or pushing back at us because their comfort zones, or their power, or their authority feel challenged, then perhaps we need to stop and take stock of just what our witness has been. The Herod's of this world should be threatened by us, the complacent of this world should be shaken, and the broken-hearted and lost of this world should feel welcomed – should feel valued – should feel empowered by our witness.
        
Are we living on the edge of gospel witness, or flying under the radar? Do we believe that God loves us with and undying love and compels us to proclaim that love to the world – even if it shakes the footings of the empire – or does it feel just a little too embarrassing to talk about the love of God and about the dream of God with others – a little discomforting to talk about the place of faith in our lives? After all, that's the home court of all those evangelical Christians – including the ones who preach about the exclusivity of God's love.
        
Jesus got in trouble within his own community when he challenged those among him who were so caught up in the letter of the law that they lost the spirit behind it. He healed on the Sabbath, he broke bread with outcast and privileged alike, he touched lepers, and he opened the gates of the kingdom to gentiles – honoring the faith of a Syro-Phoenician woman whose daughter was ill and proclaiming Good News to the Samaritan woman at the well. Jesus got in trouble with Herod, not just because his popularity was threatening, but because Jesus' witness to God's ultimate authority risked the wrath of Rome, and therefore risked Herod's standing as king.
        
In the end, Herod is more concerned about the drunken oath he makes and his honor among his drunken guests than he is about the Baptist, who according to the story he was protecting. As one commentator puts it, Herod's “willingness to sacrifice others to maintain honor, prestige, and power remains one of the greatest temptations” for those in power today (The New Interpreter's Bible: A Commentary in Twelve Volumes, Pheme Perkins, Vol. VIII, Abingdon Press, Nashville, 1995, p. 599).
        
The Episcopal Church meeting in General Convention between last Wednesday and this coming Friday wrestles with those same temptations – as does every church community on its own. Do we offer to sacrifice the LGBT community (without their partnership in the decision) in order to make provinces like the Southern Cone, Nigeria and Uganda, or break away churches in America accept and like us again? Do we keep on doing what our Presiding Bishop calls “business as usual” and embracing our idolatry of the individual self, or do we turn our faces toward Jerusalem and beyond? Do we embrace the consumer mentality of the twenty-first century, seeking others to provide for our well-being and fulfillment, or do we risk diving head-first into the hard work of the coming reign of God? At St. Mark's that might look like running for Vestry, or serving on a commission, chairing a commission or beginning a new outreach project. It might mean working with our youth or children or one day a month with Meals on Wheels. Do we risk turning toward the dream of God, at the very heart of which lies love for our neighbor and the interconnectedness of all people, care for the broken-hearted and those cast aside, and the healing the world?
        
If any of us were arrested today for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict us? Would we take a plea bargain to avoid the risk of the cross, or would we stand firm in the dream of God – recognizing that our own humanity only takes shape as we live in relationship with one another and live to honor the image of God in one another – what our African brothers and sisters call Ubuntu? A couple of weeks ago I said that in Jesus of Nazareth God chose the name “God is with us.” Emmanuel doesn't mean “God is with me,” or “God is with one of you but not another.” And being one with a God who chooses relationship, my friends, is worth the risk. Amen.

©2009 Jim Melnyk