Sermon from October 29, 2000
I had such a good time last summer in a class on the meaning of Christian baptism. I went through my presentation with the eight or nine people in the group. No one had come from a baptistic background. Half a dozen had come from a Catholic background. I explained our understanding of baptism here at BVBC, and then I said, "Now, let me tell you my understanding of baptism in a Catholic church," and I proceeded to do that. Then I said, "Now do you see how our understanding in this congregation is the same as that in a Catholic church, and do you see how it is different?" I said, "I don't want you to go into the water here thinking one thing, when we mean something very different."

You would have thought we were talking about the weather. No one got angry. I made clear what we believed without ridiculing what Catholics and Presbyterians believed. I pointed out agreements where agreements existed, and I did not pretend we agreed where we clearly did not agree.

If you were not here in the sanctuary on Sunday night, August 13, you missed one of the most significant conversations that I have ever been part of. We talked about divorce, one of the most painful and sometimes volatile realities Christians face. We explored together for nearly an hour many of the relevant scriptural passages that govern how we think about divorce and divorced people. I don't know for sure how everyone felt about me after that evening, but I went away more grateful than I can tell you for the sensitivity with which the 110 or so people present kept in balance the pain of divorced people and the high stakes of biblical authority. I also stayed here until 9:00 that night in subsequent conversations about the issue.

All my life, an unwritten rule has governed congregations that I have been part of. The rule said not to talk too openly about people's religious differences. I think the reason for the rule was to prevent embarrassment or a fight. Now, I don't want a fight, and I try never to embarrass people, but talking openly and without hostility about religious differences opens up possibilities of understanding and even affection between people, which, I believe, will only further the honor of Christ.

I am used to hearing people talk openly, if they are indifferent to the issues. Of course they don't get angry; nothing is at stake. But to be able to talk like that in the company of people who believe deeply and sometimes differently about the issues makes me wonder again if God is creating a new and necessary environment in this place. We are all used to seeing people hurling harsh words at each other over issues they believe deeply and disagree about. Could this be a place where people come with their toughest questions and know they can ask them without fear of rousing anger and know they will hear strong convictions spoken with tender mercies?

I don't know, but I hope so. In the general interests of continuing the experiment I would like to talk about some very delicate issues today. Our text today in Mark 6:1-7 provides the occasion for that further experimentation. It also continues Mark's unfolding story of Jesus Christ.

Verse 1 says, Jesus left there and went to his hometown, accompanied by his disciples. Somehow I don't think the headlines of the Nazareth News Journal read, "Hometown Boy Makes Good." Do you remember the last thing we heard out of Nazareth? Mark 3:20-21 said, Then Jesus entered a house, and again a crowd gathered, so that he and his disciples were not even able to eat. When his family heard about this, they went to take charge of him, for they said, "He is out of his mind." No one ever accused Nazareth of being a metropolis. Like many a village it was small. News about a local son would get about with ease. Mark had no interest in the details, but we can be sure that Jesus had become something of a social embarrassment in Nazareth. That makes the opening statement of verse 2 even more remarkable. When the Sabbath came, he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were amazed.

Their amazement did not come from their admiration of His courage or the content of His teaching. He had courage, to be sure, and they had never heard any rabbi teach like that. But that was just the point. Who did this country bumpkin think He was, acting uppity? Actually, their words in verse three were more eloquent, but you can still feel the sting of their incredulity.

"Where did this man get these things?" they asked. "What's this wisdom that has been given him, that he even does miracles!" They were not asking for information. They just could not connect the dots. This guy would not possibly be on the up-and-up. "Isn't this the carpenter? Isn't this Mary's son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren't his sisters here with us?" And they took offense at him. "We knew him when. We know his mother. We know his brothers and sisters. There's nothing special about them. How could there be anything special about him?" And there we must stop for a bit. We have hit paydirt.

It is right here that delicate, delicate issues surface. How well will we combine conviction and compassion here? "Isn't this Mary's son?" Their question was rhetorical. Everyone knew the answer. They had known the family for years. What the gabby geese of Nazareth could not know was the explosive power inherent in their words. Mary's son. Mary's son.

If Jesus Christ paid a visit to an evangelical church like ours and asked, "What do you think about my mother?" how would we answer Him? I think we would say, "We have confessed her to be the Virgin who carried you in her womb by an act of the Holy Spirit and gave birth to you in Bethlehem." It would be more difficult if He then asked, "How have you honored her at times other than at Christmas?"

The evangelical church is silent about Mary except when we tell the Christmas story or confess the Apostles' Creed or at those times when scripture mentions her. It does seem odd, when I think about it, that we say so little about the woman who "...gave him in her womb that existence which enabled him to be a member of the one human race and thus its Redeemer," (Theological Dictionary, 276).

Many Roman Catholic Christians would find our diffidence about Mary to be rude at best and at worst unconscionable. I think a sympathetic Roman Catholic would say to us, "You evangelicals confess the Virgin birth of Jesus, and we Catholics rejoice in that. However, we don't understand how you can then proceed to treat Mary herself as if she were a disposable convenience, a surrogate Mother whom you had rather hear about as little as possible, now that the baby is here. She is more than a theological issue in disputes with liberals."

If I have been true to Catholic sensibilities, I have to tell you that I have concerns about our evangelical disregard for Mary. For most of us I believe it is an unintentional disregard, but it is disregard nevertheless. I have not read any evangelical theologian in the last 30 years, who gave me any help at all in thinking about Mary the woman from an evangelical point of view.

Trying to think about Mary from a Roman Catholic point of view raises a different set of frustrations. For example, I have to overcome misinformation. Roman Catholics do not teach people to worship Mary. Catholic doctrine teaches that Mary needed to be redeemed just like the rest of us. I also have to get by the greater difficulty of having Mary referred to as Co-redemptor. When I read responsible Catholic theologians, they say two things: a) the Catholic church has not as yet decided what this means (Theological Dictionary), and b) only Jesus is the Redeemer of humanity. They are very clear about that.

I find the explanations reassuring, but I find the langauge disturbing and possibly misleading. I saw how extremely misleading it can become in Quito, Ecuador. In the National Cathedral that stands next to the presidential palace hangs a crucifix. You see it in the rather dark interior almost as soon as you walk in. Only it is not Jesus on the cross, it is Mary on the cross. That confusion easily misleads people who look to the Catholic church to guide them in their faith.

This passage here in Mark 6 also raises a serious objection to the Catholic doctrine that teaches that Mary was always a virgin. The skeptical citizens of Nazareth asked, "Isn't this Mary's son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren't his sisters here with us?" At face value it sounds like Joseph and Mary had other children after Jesus' birth.

Roman Catholic teaching says that the words brother and sisters need not refer to a person's siblings, but may also refer to cousins. That seems to me like an effort to force scipture to fit a doctrine, rather than allowing scripture to inform a doctrine. The most natural way of reading this question is to say that Jesus had younger brothers and sisters. All this makes me want to say that if evangelicals pay too little regard to Mary, Roman Catholics pay too much.

You can begin to see how a discussion – a very long discussion – might begin to take shape. That discussion will not be easy, and other people will have to have it; you and I are the little people in that story. However, at street level we little people, evangelicals and Roman Catholics alike, can try to be fair to each other about this difficult disagreement and even to learn from each other. More important we need to look for areas in which we truly have common ground.

Now, I said all this because the people of Nazareth called Jesus Mary's son. The last few minutes have focused on the meaning of that identity in our day. We need to discipline our minds now to focus on the meaning of that identity in Jesus' day.

Remember: the authority of Jesus dominated the first four chapters of Mark. Chapter one presented His demonstration of authority, chapter two the challenge to His authority, chapter three the rejection of His authority, and chapter four His authority to judge. Chapter four ended with the storm at sea, an event that serves as a kind of hinge for the story Mark has told. I know you remember the question that ended chapter four. "Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!" That is the question that haunts Mark 5:8: Who is Jesus Christ? If the first four chapters have to do with the authority of Jesus, the next four have to do with His identity.

The first three verses in chapter 6 add to Jesus' profile. He came from Nazareth. He was Mary's son; no mention of His father. He had four brothers: James, Joseph, Judas and Simon. He had sisters. And that is all He ever would be to the people of Nazareth. That is one reason why so many people hate small towns and why children can't wait to leave home and why closed circles of people are so stifling. They give people an identity they cannot shake, even if they have long since outgrown that identity. Any attempt to break out of those powerful social expectations are met with something very much like the response to Jesus in the synagogue: And they took offense at him.

From a purely human point of view it is a tribute to Jesus that He transcended the powerful forces of a country hamlet and stepped on to the world stage. The next verse (4) shows in part how He had come to perceive Himself and his place of origin. Jesus said to them, "Only in his hometown, among his relatives and in his own house is a prophet without honor."

This is the second time in Mark that the word prophet has occurred. In Mark 1:2 he wrote, It is written in Isaiah the prophet ... By His own confession Jesus took His place among the likes of Isaiah, Elijah, Jeremiah, Hosea and Ezekiel. But that is only part of it. Verses 5-6 add something else that you will not read in any of the Old Testament prophets. He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them. And he was amazed at their lack of faith.

Lack of faith in what? In the context it seems certainly to refer to the unyielding attitude of the people of Nazareth, who thought they had Jesus pegged and were offended that He would take it on Himself to step outside their expectations of Him. He was amazed at their lack of faith in Him.

Have you noticed how insistent Jesus makes this theme of faith? Really, it started back at the end of chapter three. Mark told us there that He looked at those seated in a circle around him and said, "Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does God's will is my brother and sister and mother."

Doing God's will meant choosing to be with Jesus, when voices all around were telling people to stay away from Jesus. It meant choosing to be with Jesus, in spite of His family, who were calling Him a mental case at best, and in spite of some very powerful people, who were calling Him Satan-possessed.

Faith was very much the issue at the end of chapter 4, when Jesus said to the terrified disciples in the boat, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" It was the issue in chapter 5 when Jesus said to the woman who touched Him in the crowd, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be free from your suffering," and when He said to Jairus on receiving news that his little girl had died, "Don't be afraid; just believe."

And He was a bit vague about what people were to believe about Him. He never said, "Believe that I am the Son of God," or "that I am the Messiah." The implication to His disciples was, "Didn't you believe I could handle the storm?" The implication to the woman was, "You believed I could heal your chronic disease." The implication to Jairus was, "Believe that I can take care of death." Only when He referred to Himself as a prophet did He put a label on Himself that invited a general belief.

Long before we have a theological statement about Jesus and long after that, Jesus is the object of our faith. By all means put the proper theological labels on Him. True theological statements legitimate and justify our faith in Him, but our faith is in Him. He is the one whom we believe and trust and follow and obey. If you believed when you came here today, rejoice and reaffirm your faith in Jesus. If you did not believe when you came here today, go home a different person. Believe in Jesus. Tell Him you believe in Him. Take your place within the company of the committed.