[Jesus] left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. 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! 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. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.
Mark 6:1-13
Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. 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.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.
My sermon from the 7th Sunday after Pentecost (July 7, 2024) on Mark 6:1-13.
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Let’s imagine you knew a guest would be at your front door once worship was over today. It might be a friend, a family member, or someone using your spare room as an AirBnb. You knew you were going to church so you spent the last few days cleaning, scrubbing, and carefully putting away your collection of vintage Star Wars action figures. The mental checklist you put together to take care of your space is probably pretty long. Yet just making our space into what we want it to be isn’t the limit of what our welcome can actually look like. Sometimes to better understand what a guest might need, we need to reverse our perspective and think what it’s like to enter into a space we know for the very first time. We have to imagine ourselves as a guest who doesn’t really know which drawer the forks are kept in and that the handle for the toilet in the hallway bathroom needs to be jiggled to get the water to stop. Our homes and our lives are full of all kinds of quirks that we often ask our guests to embrace whenever they enter our space. And while these practices don’t really bother us, they’re not always easy to see – especially when we ask others to do them too. Being a guest and welcoming a guest can be a very humbling and scary event. Yet when we take the time to imagine ourselves as a guest while knowing we are already at home – we can find new ways to bless and serve those we might not fully know.
Now the practice of being at home but imagining ourselves as a guest is almost like reading a story backwards. We begin at the end – the guest showing up – and read back into all that’s come before. It’s how we better recognize the quirks the guest might need to figure out while, at the same time, discovering a bit more of why we live the way we do. Starting at the end and reflecting on what came before is a process all over our Christian scriptures. Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John wrote their stories knowing that the Cross would come since they wrote their words down decades after that first Easter morning. Wondering what our future with Jesus is like while looking back at what has come is one of the ways we digest our faith. And this is a process that I think can help us reflect on today’s reading from the gospel according to Mark. When we start near the end, we notice the disciples who were about to enter into a future full of unknowns and fears. Jesus decided to send them out into communities they didn’t really know with instructions that were a bit specific. Unlike the guest who might show up to your home, Jesus’ friends would travel without a bag or money or even food for their journey. Their well-being would entirely depend on the hospitality of strangers. And while the culture for hospitality in Jesus’ day was much more extensive than our own, the disciples were probably a bit worried about what kind of welcome they would receive. They had, after all, saw how Jesus was welcomed by those who he grew up with. These neighbors, family members, and old friends had spent decades with Jesus and we’d expect them to at least listen to what he might have to say. But Mark shows us that the length of time we have with Jesus doesn’t always mean we’ll get who Jesus is. The disciples saw those who had played with Jesus in the marketplace as a kid, prayed with him when they worshiped together on the sabbath, and those who knew all the quirks that made Jesus’ home his home – wasn’t enough to clearly see who Jesus had become. The community didn’t pretend Jesus couldn’t do what the disciples had seen him do – such as heal the sick, cast out demons, and silence a storm. But there was something about Jesus – maybe a bit of wonder, disappointment and frustration he had left home, his family, and his responsibilities behind – that rendered those who knew Jesus the longest to not see who he truly was. Jesus was home but treated like an unwanted guest who should leave everyone alone.
So it was a bit odd that Jesus, the unwanted guest, should then choose to send his disciples as guests into places they didn’t necessarily know. They would learn the quirks of all who they encountered. And while there, Jesus gave his disciples something to do. Jesus didn’t tell them to convert anyone or to take over anyone else’s culture or to act as if their relationship with God was better than God’s relationship with anyone else. Instead, in groups of two, he let them do what he did. He called them to listen, to invite, to proclaim, and to heal. These followers of Jesus would take the time to discover not only the quirks of the people they met but also their wants, their needs, and all that would make them whole. They would, as guests, speak into the pain and worry and fear and concerns that we never want any of our guests to know. Jesus had a habit of letting others know they are loved and he invited his friends to do exactly that by, in the words of Professor Matthew Skinner, “humbly… commit[ing] themselves to the well-being of” those around them. For the people around us who know us the longest, it’s not always easy to show what our soul needs. Often what we need is a guest who will meet us as we are to help us discover what we might become. Being that kind of guest, though, isn’t always easy since being welcomed leaves us vulnerable and in need. What would make this whole process easier would be if we were, instead of being guests, we were at home – surrounded by all that makes us who we are. And Jesus, I believe, knew this which is why he reminded the disciples about the home they already had with God. Jesus let them embrace the fullness of who they were with him by letting them be his body, his hands, and his feet in the world. Even when they were someplace new, what rooted them wasn’t where they had come from but who it was that claimed them as their own. Jesus had already granted them a home with their God which freed them to be the kind of guest who could bring healing and hope into the lives of everyone they meet. It’s a calling all who follow Jesus, all who are with Jesus, all who have been given a home in Jesus through the claim he has placed on all our lives – are given too. The homes we have are not simply the homes we’ve made or defined by the communities we are born into. Our homes are not limited to what we rent, what we buy, or what we pay taxes for. Our home is more than the place that holds all the quirks we require our guests to put up when they come to visit us. Instead, because of baptism, faith, grace, and the work Jesus did through the Cross and beyond, we are already at home in God. And since God is our home, we get to enter every home – including the ones we make throughout our lives – as a kind of spiritual guest that takes God’s quirks of mercy, forgiveness, and love and makes them real in the lives of everyone we meet.
Amen.