Mark 1:4-11—January 11, 2015

JESUS, IDENTIFY YOURSELF

Who is Jesus to you? Not to the church. Not to Christian authors whose books you may have read. Not to history. Who is Jesus to you? I stress the “you” because you can really only answer the question of Jesus’ identity according to your own personal beliefs and understandings. So I ask again, who is Jesus to you? In my years as a pastor, I’ve talked to many different people who’ve had a wide variety of opinions and understandings about who Jesus is. People have told me they admired Jesus as an extraordinary spiritual teacher, for his lofty moral code, for his unwavering commitment to justice and peace, for his embracing and healing of the sick, the suffering and the poor, and for his noble example of a life lived in a completely selfless and sacrificial way. But when the question of Jesus’ divine nature comes up, things can get mighty quiet. Jesus is God? Ahh, I’m not so sure about that. Jesus was near to God . . . now that I can buy. But Jesus is God? That’s pretty hard to wrap my head around. Some people—even those who consider themselves to be Christians— reject the idea of Jesus as a divine being, as God incarnate who came down to us on the first Christmas, who was born of Mary and walked the earth as a flesh and blood human being. Remember that claim from just a few weeks ago? For such skeptical or doubting people, the excellence of Jesus’ humanity is plenty good enough. Perhaps that’s where some of us come down on the “Who is Jesus” question. It’s okay to admire Jesus, to follow his teachings (well, at least some of them), to try and get nearer to God through him, or to attempt to fashion our lives after his upright and honorable example. But, worship him as God? That seems a tad excessive. Some years ago, a man named Jaroslav Pelikan wrote a book entitled Jesus Through the Centuries. In it, Pelikan presented many different images of Jesus that came to us through literature and art down through the ages. Examining that book, it’s clear that there’s no single, unified view of Jesus that all Christians agree on. Rather, there’s a kaleidoscope of different understandings and beliefs about him. Such as: Jesus the ethical example. Jesus the teacher of noble virtues. Jesus the healer. Jesus the wonderworker

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and magician. Jesus the spiritual guru. Jesus the mysterious, enigmatic figure. And of course, Jesus the Word made flesh, the God who dwelt among us here on earth and experienced everything a human being experiences, including death, and then was resurrected from the dead. Perhaps the predominate image of Jesus for most people in our time is “Jesus the Friend.” Today, Jesus is our kind, compassionate, empathetic, and tolerant buddy who soothes and comforts us but rarely condemns or judges. “What a friend we have in Jesus,” we sing. People today want a Jesus they can get close to and relate to: an available and supportive Savior who blesses our half-hearted and restrained efforts to live out our Christian faith, accepts any and all bad things we do without criticism, and demands little or nothing from us when we follow him. That’s not surprising, really, because people who are reasonably healthy, happy enough, and relatively affluent and economically secure (like most of us) don’t really need and really don’t want a Savior who is dissatisfied with the status quo and who wants to disturb, disrupt and transform the way things are. No way. I love my life the way it is, Jesus; can’t you just be a Savior who will bless, affirm, and embrace me just as I am; who will wink at me and say, “Good enough”? On the other hand, consider those people—and, sadly, they seem to be the majority of the human race—who, instead of being healthy and happy enough, and relatively affluent and economically secure, suffer from severe or even terminal illnesses, and carry the grief of their hard and painful lives with them constantly. Think about those who struggle, day to day, just to obtain the food, clothing and shelter they need to survive. What kind of a Savior do you think they want? Who is Jesus to them? I read about a woman whose life was well fixed. She and her husband had an excellent marriage; he was a well-respected lawyer who made an above-average income; they had three great kids who were doing well in school and kept their noses clean. What’s not to like about the life that the Lord, their friend, blessed them with? But then one morning, the woman’s husband lurched forward at the breakfast table and died. A massive heart attack, the doctor said. It was totally unexpected. There was no warning whatsoever. Suddenly, the woman’s world cracked wide open, and the joy, hope and peace she and her husband once enjoyed had completely drained out of their lives. The future that had once looked so bright now looked bleak and lonely. The woman visited her pastor for guidance and support. She said to him, “The God I’ve known since I was a child is a kind, gentle, loving being—who sincerely

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who sincerely cares about me, but can’t actually help me. Now, for the first time in my life, I’m reaching out to God for assistance—real, tangible, assistance. But what if there isn’t such a God? What if my God is just a friend who, when things turn bad, gladly gives me a hug and pat on the back, but isn’t able to offer a helping hand?” Is that the God we believe in? Catholic theologian Monika Helwig said, “If your faith won’t work in a cancer ward or a shoddy nursing home full of lonesome, elderly residents, then whatever it is, it’s not the Good News Jesus was proclaiming.” Human beings, when they’re most destitute, needy, troubled and afraid, want more than a little nudge to motivate them, or a good therapist, or a more positive outlook on life. What human beings need—what we need— is God. And not just God our friend. We need to know that the God of the Bible, the One who hung the stars in the heavens and set the planets on their course, is there for us. We need a God who not only cares, but also can help. The day that John the Baptist conducted another one of his immersion services in the Jordan River and a young Galilean came sputtering up out of the water, Mark’s Gospel records that “[Jesus] saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending.” Mark doesn’t say that everyone else saw it. Mark doesn’t even say that John the Baptist saw it. But Jesus saw it. The day of his baptism was the inauguration day of his earthly ministry. And in recognition of that special day, God Almighty ripped open the heavens, said Mark. The words are dramatic and very powerful; and there’s an indication in the Greek word Mark’s Gospel uses that the event Jesus witnessed was even pretty violent. What did such a dynamic event signify? It signified that the heavens, or in other words the veil that separates God and human beings, was torn apart; so now, in Jesus, there’s nothing separating us from the very throne of God. In this man, in Jesus, the Christ, the curtains of heaven have been thrown open by a God who is determined to not allow anything at all to stand between God and God’s people. Now, at this early point in Mark’s Gospel, we’re not told what all of this means. We’re going to have to stay tuned, and keep back coming to church, to discover what the implications of Jesus’ inaugural moment are. But I will say this: Spoiler Alert! Mark’s Jesus is clearly a powerful instrument of God and has a unique and intimate relationship with his Heavenly Father. As the voice from heaven proclaimed to Jesus, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am very pleased.” Now, here’s some background that can help us better understand the real message of Mark’s Gospel. Mark’s Gospel was written for the very

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early, infant church of Christ. And it was a church in deep crisis, a vulnerable community of the faithful whose members were being brutally persecuted for their belief in Jesus. There was a very real danger that the church of Christ would be snuffed out before it could even get a foothold. So, Mark’s read-between-the-lines message to the early followers of Jesus was crystal-clear: you followers of the Lord, who are experiencing great suffering and brutality and are at the end of your ropes, have faith. Trust. Believe. Because the Christ, the Beloved of God, has come into the world and will help. He won’t leave you desolate. Well, after centuries of oppression and maltreatment, the church of Jesus Christ did survive. It was nip and tuck for a time, but the Christian church is still here. Jesus took care of his own. You and I are living proof of that. But what about today? Do we have faith now in that same Jesus who kept his threatened, fledgling church alive through centuries of hard, painful, deadly times? Do we have faith that the Jesus we follow can do the same thing for us that he did for the persecuted, threatened church of the first century? Not necessarily to prevent pain and suffering, but to see us through it? Is the Jesus Mark wrote about, who, at his baptism, saw the very heavens ripped apart and whom God identified as God’s beloved Son; is he the Jesus we believe in and put our trust in? Is that Jesus Mark wrote about the same Jesus we follow and call Savior and Lord? Later on in Mark’s Gospel, we’re going to read the story of when Jesus and his disciples were in a boat, in the middle of the Sea of Galilee. Now, the Sea of Galilee was notorious for the storms and gales that would suddenly come out of nowhere and threaten the fishers who made their living on it. And that’s exactly what happened with Jesus and his crew. A sudden wind began to whip up the waves. The boat was being swamped and was in danger of sinking. The situation was extremely perilous. So naturally, Jesus . . . our hero . . . well, he was asleep! Jesus’ disciples, on the other hand, were wide awake and terrified for their lives. They shouted, “Hey, you! Master! Wake up! Don’t you care that were about to perish?” Jesus awoke. He may or may not have yawned and stretched his arms. But Jesus did stand up—he stood up in the boat, something we’re never supposed to do! But Jesus stood up in the boat, as if to defy the raging storm, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the sea became tranquil and quiet. Just like that. The disciples who witnessed this event asked one another, “Who is this guy, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

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Yes, who is this man, Jesus? I think that’s what Mark’s Gospel wants us to ask ourselves and each other at the end of the story we read this morning. Who is this man, that even the heavens were ripped open at his baptism? Who is this person, whom a divine voice addressed as “my Son, the Beloved?” It’s a great question, and a very important one, as well. Who is this? Jesus, identify yourself. Please. We want to know. No, actually and more accurately, the way our life sometimes is, with the pain, sorrow and despair we often experience, we need to know. Who is Jesus to us? In the coming months, as we continue to read through Mark’s Gospel, we will discover just exactly who this Jesus is. That’s the easy part, finding out who Jesus is according to the Scriptures. The more difficult part comes afterwards, when we’re challenged to actually believe in, and live our lives according to, this Jesus whose identity was revealed by the heavenly voice: This is God’s Son, the Beloved, with whom God is well pleased. There are so many possible forms of Jesus to pick from—too many, if the truth be told, to the point where we can get confused and overwhelmed. Which Jesus do I choose to believe in? Jesus, who are you? Please identify yourself! John the Baptist knew who Jesus was: “After me comes the one more powerful than I, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to stoop down and untie. I baptize you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” And even more significantly, God knows who Jesus is: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” May that Jesus be the one in whom we identify, believe, follow, and dedicate our lives in service to. Amen.