Sermon: With and For the Rejected

Mark 6:1-13

And they took offense at him. . . He called the Twelve and began to send them out. . .

The story we just heard is a story of rejection followed by a story of sending.

Rejection. Jesus has been traveling on foot with his disciples, their feet dusty and sore.  Jesus’ disciples are his students and his friends, a group of people from a variety of walks of life, none of them prominent or prestigious. These disciples have been following Jesus from town to town -- learning from him, misunderstanding his parables, watching Jesus heal people. and sometimes staring at him incredulous, even in fear: “Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?” they ask when Jesus calms the storm on the lake.  Jesus and his disciples have been traveling around, proclaiming to others that “The Kingdom of God has come near.” “Repent.  Turn around!” they say, “and believe in the good news.”

In the midst of this great preaching and healing tour, Jesus and his disciples use those dusty, sore feet to walk into a place very near to Jesus: Nazareth of Galilee, his home town, the place where he grew up.

I wonder what he expected to happen there.  I wonder what the people of Nazareth expected.

Jesus came in with an energy that was amazing and it seems, perplexing, to the people who had watched him grow up in Nazareth.  He began to teach in the synagogue, a place that must have felt like home to him: How many times did he hear important words there – words of the Scriptures and words of his community, and how many times were those words connected to the very actions of the ministry and healing that he was bringing to other towns?

He began to share himself with them. He began to teach, and they were amazed and perplexed.  “Who is this person?” they wondered.  “Where did Jesus get this kind of wisdom?” “Didn’t my son play outside with him years ago?” “Aren’t those the hands that made our dining room table?”  “Wait a second, this guy is that carpenter, right? Isn’t he the one who worked on my Dad’s house a few years ago?” Somehow, this teaching, and this healing, and these deeds of power were too much to for them to grasp.

After all the praise and questions of wonder in this text, there’s an interesting turn in just one sentence. “Where did all this wisdom and power come from?” the people of Nazareth keep asking in a series of questions.  Then one sentence in the text suddenly shifts it all: “And they took offense at him.”

I wonder what was so offensive in their eyes. . . The author of this text doesn’t give us many details here.  But it seems like quite a shift, doesn’t it? And in the context of this particular passage, without many details, we’re left to wonder.  So let’s wonder: I wonder if it was just too difficult to see Jesus for who he was - a person who had grown into adulthood with astounding gifts, a person who was there to proclaim a Kingdom of God beyond anything that they had known before. I wonder if they were reducing him to something familiar and manageable - to a child and adolescent they once knew, or to an adult carpenter, known solely by trade he practiced before venturing out.  I wonder if they reduced him and tried to sum him up in their minds, so that he wouldn’t have a claim on them.  If they could sum him up and reduce him, they couldn’t be changed and challenged by him. In reducing him, they thought they could stay safe from an invitation to grow and change.  “They took offense at him.”  The people known most deeply to Jesus rejected him.

This must have been deeply troubling and upsetting to Jesus. “Prophets are not without honor, except in their home town, and among their own kin, and in their own house,” he said. It must have been difficult for him to learn this by experience.  He was amazed at their unbelief.  He was rejected.

Rejection.  It’s been on my mind in many ways this week.  It has been on my mind as I’ve watched and followed General Assembly, an important gathering that took place in Pittsburgh.  Presbyterians across the country came together to deliberate and discern a number of issues, and again and again (sometimes exhaustively it seems -- once until 1:30 am!) they voted to make decisions.  A number of motions and overtures passed by affirmative votes, but a number of motions and overtures were also rejected.  And in the midst of those votes, I know that a lot of people feel rejected.

Palestinians – and Palestinian Christians in particular – had reached out to us in the hopes that the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) would divest from three companies that participate and profit from their own oppression – including a company whose equipment regularly and unpredictably destroys Palestinian homes and infrastructure.  We voted not to divest.  I imagine that Palestinians feel rejected.

Individuals and couples from the LGBTQ community were also watching us this week as the  Assembly voted on a recommendation to change the wording about marriage in the Book of Order -- our constitution -- from a “man and a woman” to “two people.”  We all expected this vote and debate to be controversial. It was voted down by 4%, 30 votes difference.  I watched the debate and the vote online through the live feed.  It lasted three and a half hours. There were powerful words of affirmation and inclusion along with genuine words of concern and of question.  But there were also words that were profoundly dehumanizing. One woman’s comments, in particular, I believe, crossed the line from disagreement into raw hatred, and they’ve been ringing in my ears ever since. This morning, gay and lesbian individuals and couples feel deeply rejected by our church.  We need to remember them in our thoughts and prayers.

And throughout all of this, another community has come to my mind again and again.  They give me hope and an exciting sense of vision.  I am amazed and at times, perplexed, by their incredible gifts. 

Our young people – our youth and young adults – were present at General Assembly as well.  Mostly, they served as Theological Student Advisory Delegates and Young Adult Advisory Delegates.  I want you to know that they served us well.  Time and time again, as I watched the Assembly, I was blown away by their own hope and vision, touched and honored by their convictions, moved by their respect for themselves and others, and challenged by their questions. Now did you hear the term in their title?  Advisory?  They were Advisory Delegates.  That means that they were able to speak on the floor and advise the Assembly.  They were also able to give a mock, advisory vote electronically before commissioners cast their own votes, the votes that would actually count and make the decision final.

I want you to hear this statistic.  Please let it sit with you: Of the commissioners who were gathered this week to vote and make decisions on behalf of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.), only 7% were under the age of 45.  We had youth and young adults present to advise this assembly, but 93% of the commissioners were over the age of 45.[i]

Do we value young people in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)?  Who are we if we don’t have their voice and their amazing and perplexing gifts of ministry?  So often people ask, “Who will we be without them? Without them, the church won’t survive in the future!”  But let me say emphatically, that the church is impoverished right now – right now! right this very second! – without them.  They need our attention and love, and we need their gifts and passion.  We need to be in relationship with our youth and young adults, and we need to value their voice among us.

The story we heard this morning is a story of rejection, but it’s also a story of sending

The preaching and healing tour didn’t stop.  Instead, Jesus chose to empower his disciples and to send them out with the gifts they needed to do the work of the Kingdom.  They were empowered, but that didn’t mean they would escape rejection.  The text is realistic: Rejection was going to come sometimes. But they were sent out to proclaim and heal, nonetheless.  And that is exactly what they did.

Young people, today I want to empower you and tell you that God has given you gifts for ministry.  God’s Spirit is upon you – not just because you are young – but because your life is claimed by God.  Listen.  Put your ear to the ground.  And stay under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  God is going to use you here.  God is going to use you beyond these walls.

And to all of us, may we all remember that our lives are claimed by God.  God’s Spirit does not abandon us once we are older.  No!  We have the very gifts, wisdom, and experience to offer children, youth, and young adults who have been rejected by this church.  God has given us what we need for the journey.  We are being sent out.

So we can be with and for those who are rejected!  We can choose to stand with Palestinians and Israelis alike!  We can have ferocious compassion for gay and lesbian youth who are bullied and school and concern for legally married couples who have to check ‘single’ every year on their taxes.  We can be a church that says an emphatic ‘yes’ to our young people – right here and in this neighborhood.  We can be sent to those who feel rejected.  And with God’s help, we can proclaim and heal.  With God’s help, we will also be healed by those very people who feel rejected.

So what does it look like?  What does it look like to be a church where all generations love and challenge one another, where all generations say ‘yes’ to loving rejected people? I’ll tell you.

It’s Vena and Adrian, the musical directors of our two children’s choirs.  It’s the way that they give each other support, trading stories and wisdom about teaching in public schools. It’s also the way they care for our children.

It’s the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with Warren McClain – not one! – where he didn’t tell me how much he appreciates me.  You can keep that coming, Warren!  I appreciate you too. (By the way, you’re also allowed to get mad at me sometimes.  And that goes for all of you).

It’s the way that Shannon Ludt comes up with brilliant ideas and questions about how we might minister to children in Pasadena, specifically those who are struggling in poverty.  It’s also the way she includes others into the conversation about those ideas.

It’s the way that Dr. Mark Smutny, our pastor, gets down on his knees in front of this congregation to do the Time with Children.  It’s also the way that you, older than our children, so frequently choose to get something out of that time for yourselves.

It’s the way that Thea, Myron, Mona, and others often always seek to find those who don’t have a place to go for the holidays – often young people – and invite them over for a delicious meal.

It’s the way that Pastor Hyun Sung and other Korean leaders have chosen to do something absolutely radical: That is, to have Korean young adults serve on the Session, something that hardly never happens in other Korean Presbyterian churches. It’s culturally radical.

It’s Bryce Nicholson, who so regularly pushes his grandmother, Mary, around in her wheelchair on Sunday mornings.  They both model for us what it means to love people of all generations.

I could give so many more examples. I imagine you have examples.

So are you encouraged to be the people we’re called to be today?  Are you called and committed to be a church for all generations?  If so, say ‘Amen!’ Are you called and committed to be a church for those who are rejected?  If so, say ‘Amen!’ You can be.  You will be.  It’s because of you and your dedication – but primarily that God’s Spirit upon you -- that we will give this great witness.  We’re doing it today in this very moment. Thanks be to God. Amen.

-This sermon was preached by Pastor Renee Roederer and the community at Pasadena Presbyterian Church. (7/8/12)

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[i] I learned of these statistics from Still Waters, the blog of the Rev. Theresa Cho.  You can read the entire post, “In the Middle: Intersection Between Age & Wisdom” here: http://theresaecho.com/2012/07/03/in-the-middle-intersection-between-age-wisdom/