July 8, 2018 Tim Hughes Williams Sermon: On The Road Again The Epistle Lesson: 2 Corinthians 12:2-10 2 I know a person in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught up to the third heaven whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows. 3 And I know that such a person whether in the body or out of the body I do not know; God knows 4 was caught up into Paradise and heard things that are not to be told, that no mortal is permitted to repeat. 5 On behalf of such a one I will boast, but on my own behalf I will not boast, except of my weaknesses. 6 But if I wish to boast, I will not be a fool, for I will be speaking the truth. But I refrain from it, so that no one may think better of me than what is seen in me or heard from me, 7 even considering the exceptional character of the revelations. Therefore, to keep me from being too elated, a thorn was given to me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to torment me, to keep me from being too elated. 8 Three times I appealed to the Lord about this, that it would leave me, 9 but he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness." So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. 10 Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong. The New Testament Lesson: Mark 6:1-13 1 [Jesus] left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. 2 On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, "Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3 Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?" And they took offense at him. 4 Then Jesus said to them, "Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house." 5 And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6 And he was amazed at their unbelief. 1
Then he went about among the villages teaching. 7 He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. 8 He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; 9 but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. 10 He said to them, "Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 11 If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them." 12 So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. 13 They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them. Sermon: On The Road Again In a particularly violent corner of San Salvador, there is a church that is in constant motion. It s called Maria Madre De Los Pobres, or Mary, Mother of the Poor, and it is the established Catholic parish of a neighborhood called La Chacra. Unlike our Presbyterian system, where churches just pop up where people plant them, the Catholics operate under a parish system, meaning that every neighborhood of the city is divided up into zones where you are assigned a particular Catholic Church. Maria Madre is the official Catholic Church of La Chacra and though it is in one of the poorest parts of the city they have an unusually large campus. I say campus because the church grounds contain no less than six or seven buildings, all protected behind a high barb-wired fence. In addition to the big, A- frame cinderblock sanctuary, there is a health clinic and a dentist, and a school, and a basketball court, and a dormitory. There s even a little café that opens early in the morning to sell pupusas and coffee to anyone who might happen by. It s an extraordinary thing to witness almost like a little village within a village. Catholics and Protestants from all over the world support this church. I know it because Brown Memorial, my previous congregation, has been a partner of Maria Madre for over thirty years. It has become famous as a place of safety and support in a community with almost no resources. The walls are imposing but necessary, as La Chacra is one of the most violent communities in the world. It is notoriously gang-controlled and while the military occasionally attempts to restore order, it is the gang leaders who run the neighborhood. There are two 2
primary gangs that are active in the parish, MS-13 and M-18. I have to add here that both of these gangs originated in Los Angeles, not El Salvador. Salvadoran refugees came to the United States to flee their Civil War in the 1980 s. Then they became affiliated with American gangs and were subsequently imprisoned or deported back home. In this sense these gangs are an American export. As the two gangs have battled for territory across slum neighborhoods like La Chacra, the result is very carefully delineated boundaries. Block by block, you can have no doubt which gang territory you are in. It s not just the graffiti that tags so many homes and businesses knowing where you are is a matter of life and death. If you live in MS-13 territory, you can t travel into M-18 territory without risking violence. And vice versa. It doesn t matter if you are gang-affiliated or not. The gangs presume ownership of their territory and any resident is thus affiliated. This is nightmare for so many reasons but for a parish-based church like Madre, it is a disaster. Padre Luis, the parish priest, estimates that some sixty percent of his congregation can t walk to the church without passing through rival gang territory. This means that a majority of his people haven t been to the church building, an easy walk from their homes, in years. They are too scared, and rightfully so. This has had an enormous impact on the ministries of the church. The school only has a fraction of its original enrollment. The medical clinic is talking about closing. And Padre Luis is doing quite a lot of traveling. The parish priest is a known figure in this Catholic country, and largely left alone by the gangs. He is one of the only people in the community allowed to regularly cross the lines as he pleases. Thus, when I describe Maria Madre as a church that is in constant motion, I meant it maybe more literally than you thought. Every other week Padre Luis has been forced to take his show on the road. He offers a Mass in the street on the other side of the gang lines. One of half of his parish worships in the sanctuary because they can walk there. The other half, some sixty people, worship in plastic chairs on the street on the other side of the line. This absurdity is just one of so many visuals that tell the story of why people flee Central America. Mass in the street is itself a humiliation. But it has also become, paradoxically, a symbol of remarkable strength. 3
*** Our Gospel text today comes from Mark 6, and it represents its own form church in the street. The first five chapters of Mark have all been localized in and around Jesus core community in Capernaum. He s been traveling from village to village, he s taken a boat across the Sea of Galilee. He s developed a remarkable reputation as teacher and healer. But it s all been within a fairly tight radius, geographically. Chapter 6, however, marks a series of longer journeys into more uncertain territory. The first journey will be recognizable to you, whether or not you ve ever been to Nazareth. Jesus, having made a real name for himself in Capernaum, returns to his hometown friends and family, only to discover that they are not impressed. Not only do they not take him seriously, they want to freeze him in the past forcing him to play the role he played when they last knew him. I m sure none of you have had this experience with your own family. Where did this man get all this? they ask each other, amazed. Is this not the carpenter, the son of Mary? Indeed, they took offense at him for growing and changing and above all, for having the audacity to talk about it in their presence. Jesus seems to know what s up. "Prophets are not without honor, he says, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house." He doesn t quite say it, but there has to be pain in those words. It hurts when you aren t recognized or respected by the people who loved you into being. Every more unsettling, Jesus powers are not just unrecognized but also limited by the rejection of his friends and family. That s the kind of statement that will get you in trouble with an ordination committee but there it is right there in the text: 5 And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6 And he was amazed at their unbelief. 4
How many people do you know, by the way, who seem frozen in their context, too loaded down by the expectations of their friends and family to realize their full potential? Jesus didn t come to town to hang out with his family, though. He came to do his work, since he arrived with all the disciples. They presumably had just witnessed this belly flop in Nazareth, right before he asked them to start taking their own risks. He sent them out in groups of two with instructions and authority to heal sickness and cast out demons. And then he told them that they were not allowed to take anything with them except for their sandals and a walking stick, both of which are symbols of motion. Their instructions were clear just plan on staying with the people you meet. Stay with them until it is time to move to the next place, and then find new people to stay with. They will no doubt provide you with a bed, and food, and a place to wash that single tunic you re wearing. Says the man who just got shut down by his own family! It s an extraordinary moment of chutzpah from Jesus, and the disciples rise to the occasion. They accept his marching orders, heading out to confront demons without so much as an undershirt. Jesus instructions are bewildering, and a recipe for failure, if anything. Why intentionally withhold supplies that are more or less essential for survival? How does that serve the larger mission of the church? And his failure in Nazareth only seems to underline the risk that is being undertaken here. It is decidedly not a given that they will be welcomed where they go. They would be safer in their own homes. Which is possibly the point. Jesus hometown welcome could be taken as a cautionary tale against counting on the support of friends and family. Or, it could be taken as a cautionary tale against growing too comfortable in your safe spaces. 5
It s almost as though Jesus understood how quickly sanctuaries can become bunkers. Scott Anderson, who happens to be the first openly gay pastor ordained in the PC(USA), has written that the days of church as host are coming to an end. The 1950 s were the glory days of the Establishment Church, the consummate Christian host, opening its doors every Sunday to the community. Come to our home, they would say, and find rest. Come to our home and find peace. Wisdom. Worship. Love. Above all, come to our home and find God. The days of church as host are over, says Anderson. It s time for us to go back to our roots. Church as guest. We were only able to host, after all, because of our cultural dominance. And there was comfort in being at the center of the universe, to be sure, but if Nazareth is our guide, there is also such a thing as staying home too long. It makes us too cautious. It makes us apathetic. It limits the horizon of God s kingdom to our own point of view. The Church as Guest, on the other hand, travels light. The Church as Guest moves into every day unsure what will happen next. The Church as Guest relies upon the hospitality of others. Church as Guest doesn t presume to have holiness to offer, but rather expects to experience holiness in its encounter with the stranger. The Church as Guest is radically available. Dependent even. If those words make you itch a little bit they should. We ve clung so tightly to hosting, framing it as a virtue without ever really acknowledging its inherent power. To assume the role of gracious guest in a culture that may or may not care about you is an inherently weaker position. But it may also be the soil of a certain kind of power. *** As it turns out, there is a kind of beauty to having Mass in the street. 6
Imagine sixty-five folding chairs set out in rows, right in the middle of a city street. All around you are tiny houses, made of corrugated metal, stacked impossibly close to each other. Padre Luis sets out a sort of makeshift altar, a crucifix and a vase of flowers and another little table for the Eucharist elements. There are people just walking through the worship space constantly, on their way to work or school. They squeeze through the chairs. Some of them hang around. A handful of teenage boys are wearing drum kits tied to their shoulders, like you would see in a marching band. They offer a thunderous prelude to the service, even though it s unclear if they are associated with the church at all. Children and old women alike are bobbing in their seats. Someone somewhere is roasting a chicken. Skinny little dogs are hiding under chairs for the shade they provide. From time to time a car or a bus will come around the corner and realize that the street is entirely blocked for Mass. They put their vehicles in reverse and slowly back away the way they came. For some reason I find this hilarious. The liturgy of the service is exactly the same as it would be in the sanctuary, with the exception of one delightful thing. When Mass happens in the street, the people launch fireworks from their chairs during the hymns. I wouldn t believe it if I hadn t seen it with own eyes. Imagine the way you might punctuate the Doxology: Praise God from whom all blessing flow! (Woooooooosh) Praise God all people here below (eeeeeeeeeeeew booosh). Every time a firework exploded in the sky it filled me with delight. There was a kind of chaotic joy to Mass in the street that is hard for me to describe. All I know if that if you had just stumbled onto it, you would never have guessed that the people were out there because their lives would be threatened if they went to church. Instead, their actions seem radical. Bold. Defiant, even. This church takes an act of humiliation and turns it into a block party, every other week. They ve discovered a joy in being on the road again. Isn t that surely what the Apostle Paul is getting at when he writes: 7
10 Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong (12:10) I don t think Paul is asking us to be doormats. I do think that Paul is pointing to a literal power that can be found in a sort of radical interdependence. A community that knows that it is too weak to go it alone is strong indeed. I don t want to romanticize what is clearly a very perilous situation. But I will say that it is incredible what this one church is doing by leaving the walls of their sanctuary. They ve attracted the attention of people all over the world. The medical clinic, the school, the café they are all funded by people who are moved by the audacity of this church in their radical vulnerability. *** I look at their courage and at the courage of the disciples and I think: perhaps it s not so crazy to remove the pews of our sanctuary. Perhaps its not so crazy to ask ourselves what might be possible in a more open space, a space where the boundary between church and city becomes a little more porous. It s a baby step, really, towards the Kingdom of God that Jesus imagined hardly a fortress with tall walls and rigid entrance requirements. Rather, I think the Kingdom is constantly in motion, always on the road again, always knocking on doors that may or may not open. Because there is power in that vulnerability. A power that challenges the fortress mentality of both church and world and exposes it for what it really is: fear. Fear of change. Fear of love. Fear of challenge. Fear of God. We can be better than that. Just look at our brothers and sisters. The story reports that the disciples had incredible success, healing people all over the land. Presumably among the healed were themselves, moving out beyond their comfort zones, out into the world of what is possible. How generous, in the end, that we find ourselves guests in such a kingdom, such an economy of love. Amen. 8
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