Mark 14:1-11: Honoring and Dishonoring Christ

Plotting, anointing, and betrayal, that’s how Mark 14 opens.  It is becoming obvious, even if this is your first reading of Mark’s gospel, that events are about to come to a head.  There is a question that lies behind the plot of these eleven verses though.  The plotting, the anointing, and the betrayal all took place at a point in history- a very significant one at that- and because of their part in that narrative, the deeds we read of here have won a type of immortality that even Jesus acknowledges (“And truly, I say to you, wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in memory of her”).  However, beyond their importance historically, each of these figures also serves an important role as an example of how we can honor, or dishonor, Jesus Christ. 

Let’s start with the bad news.  Sometimes we dishonor Jesus.  Usually when that happens, it happens discreetly.  Few among us are bold enough to openly refute Jesus claims.  Even those who do usually try to soften the blow with acclaim for his teaching, despite their reservations about his identity as the Son of God.  Before we are too harsh in our judgment of the chief priests and scribes, we should ask ourselves if there haven’t been times in our life where we sought to throw off the seemingly burdensome yoke of Jesus lordship, albeit as quietly as possible, because we found it inconvenient.  Maybe you don’t find yourself in the “discreetly rejecting Jesus” category, but rather identify with the “outward worship, inward betrayal” model of Judas.  None of us would like to think we have anything in common with Judas, the arch-villain or arch-villains.  And yet, ask yourself again, are there times when the content of your heart fails to match the outward displays of worship others see.  The world may see raised hands, or the look of one quietly reflecting on the goodness of God, all the while the inner self contains a boiling cauldron of fear, doubt, disobedience, or hate.  Maybe neither of these describes you, and that’s good.  Even so, at some point we all of us fall into the third trap, the trap of self-aggrandizement.  In just a short while when Jesus announces his impending betrayal to his disciples around the table, they show more concern for exonerating themselves than what this means for Jesus.  How many of us are more concerned with looking or acting righteous, than how that righteousness can serve Christ? 

There are times, hopefully lots of times, when we honor Jesus.  One way we can honor him is through our actions.  Consider this woman, who anoints Jesus with costly nard, or perfume.  She could have used the money for herself, or used the perfume on herself, but instead she offers them as gifts to the Messiah.  The original Greek of verse 8, “she has done what she could…” deliberately mirrors the Greek of Mark 12:44, where Jesus comments on the largesse of the widow who gave the two coins.  Like that widow, the woman who anoints Jesus remains nameless to us, but nonetheless she is remembered because of her actions.  How much time do we spend trying to ensure that our names are remembered,  when we could be acting in ways that will make a lasting impact and be remembered, even if our name is not.

A few years back I was on a mission trip to New Orleans.  We were putting on a VBS for a church in a very impoverished neighborhood.  A few days into it, one of the other chaperones noticed that this one little boy kept showing up in the same clothes.  Deeply moved by the plight of this boy, this woman went to Old Navy that day and spent a substantial amount of money buying the kid several new outfits to wear.  Does that child remember the name of the woman who bought him the clothes a few years ago? Probably not.  But somewhere in the recesses of his mind is a tangible reminder, a memory that reflects the love of Christ.  Christ wasn’t discreetly rejected by my friend that day, nor was he outwardly worshipped while being inwardly betrayed.  Christ was honored.  He wasn’t honored in words or in a song, but with actions that embody his love.  How can you honor Christ today?  In a thousand different ways; it’s easier, and yet far more challenging than you ever imagined.  

Mark 12:35-44: Why I never liked P.D.A.

It’s fitting that before Jesus launches into a discussion of religion and worship, he makes a brief but significant comment on the object of our worship.  In an effort to pry open the minds and imaginations of His hearers, Jesus throws out a rhetorical question, basing its query in scripture.  “How can the scribes say that the Christ is the son of David?”  The scribes were looking for an heir to David, to reclaim David’s throne.  While understandable, this turns out to be misguided in that it fails to account for the scope and grandiosity of God’s plan.  Jesus quotes Psalm 110:1 where David refers to the Messiah as his “Lord”, and asks “why would David refer to his heir as his Lord?”  The only commentary we receive on the exchange in Mark’s gospel is that the people “heard him gladly.”  Of course, it was ultimately this message that would get Jesus killed, but people’s reception of the message doesn’t change the validity or truth of the claim itself.  God’s plan for our world is far grander than we can imagine, and our worship should reflect our appreciation for the grace and mercy that is the result of that plan, as well as our love for the God who would put such a costly plan into motion. 

When we understand Jesus’ point about the Messiah, in terms of who the Messiah would be, and also what he would accomplish, it should shape how we worship.  Such was not the case with the scribes he mentions in the next section.  What is their worship, their religion about?  It’s about places of honor; it’s about occupying center stage, so that they become the center of attention.  They crave markers of deference and pretense, markers that are condemned by Jesus.  Why?  Because religious leaders aren’t supposed to be above the community, they are supposed to be a part of the community.  They aren’t to be apart from the community, they are to be among the community.  The scribes Jesus’ referred to longed for prestige and respect, that could then be transformed into material support, hence Jesus’ comment about “devouring widow’s houses”.  Instead of serving those at the margins of society, the religious leaders were living off of them.  When Jesus speaks of their prayer life, it makes perfect sense why they would act this way.  We see that their prayers were aimed not at God, the rightful object of our devotion, but at the people around them.  They weren’t talking to God, so much as speaking to those around them.  Prayer had become a convenient way of manifesting self-centered religion.  We see from their example what religion isn’t about, but that doesn’t tell us who it is about.

We all know that the answer to the question “who is our religion about?” is God, but knowing the answer, and knowing how to reflect that answer in our lives is two different things.  To help us understand what it means to give ourselves over to God fully, Jesus tells a story about a poor widow and the offering she makes at the temple.  In those days, the temple had trumpet-shaped receptacles, in which people would deposit their offering.  Larger offerings of bronze coins would make more noise, and draw attention.  (It makes me kind of glad that most offerings in churches are now made with more stealthy paper currency or with checks).  When the rich came to pour in their large offerings, it probably sounded like someone hitting the jackpot in a casino.  I’m sure that in more than one instance, the approving looks of respect were more of a motivating factor than a desire to honor God when such large contributions were made.  The offering of the widow, unlike the offerings of the rich, probably made very little noise, if any.  No one’s attention was drawn by the clanging of those two small coins hitting the trumpet-shaped receptacle.  But something tells me that was ok with her.  I don’t think she walked up to drop in those coins, hoping that others would notice and talk about how wonderful she was.  I think she gave those two coins- and the fact that there were two means she could have kept one, and still given 50% of what she had, no paltry percentage- motivated by her love for her God.  She was giving out of her necessity, what she needed to live on, rather than out of her surplus, and Jesus uses that to illustrate the point that true contributions are measured not by quantity, but by how much of ourselves we give.

We can learn two things from the widow, and if we take those things to heart they will dramatically alter how we approach worship, and how we approach our faith.  First of all, our worship should be God-centered.  I fear that too many times we worship with one eye on God, and another on those around us.  Our worship becomes the religious version of over-the-top PDA that we’ve all witnessed and been disgusted by at some point or another.  Such overt “public displays of affection” are usually about grabbing attention, not displaying affection, and they usually come from a place of deep insecurity.  Does that mean we never worship in public?  Of course not!  It simply means that our affection for God, not getting attention from others, should be what drives our worship and our faith.  The other thing we can learn is that all of us have something to offer God.  Too often we feel like the widow, standing there looking at the meager coins in our hand thinking that they will never make a difference.  I’d argue that those two small coins might not have helped the temple make budget that month, but the devotion that they reflected was worth far more than any amount of money she could have poured into the offering box.  God isn’t looking for people who can give a lot of what they have; he’s looking for those who are willing to give all of who they are.    

Mark 11:27-33: Learning to take a stand

This short segment of Mark’s gospel reminds us that there is great truth in the old saying, if we don’t stand for something, we’ll fall for anything.   Perhaps it would be more accurate to interpret it slightly different in the context of this story and say that before we come to Jesus, we must be willing to acknowledge out current state, or situation.  The chief priests, scribes, and elders- the ones who would have been responsible for keeping order in Jerusalem- are acting like good politicians and refusing to take a stand.  They’ve weighed the risks associated with both positions, and decided to simply vote “present”, rather than yay or nay.  Showing himself to be far more clever, and yet also more righteous than any politician or public official, Jesus puts the authorities in the position of having to choose between acknowledging their mistake and keeping the support of the crowd, or sticking to their guns and losing the support of the crowd. 

So what is so important about how the authorities view John the Baptist, and why do they fear him?  Josephus helps us answer these questions with a comment he makes on John the Baptist’s ministry, in his book Antiquities of the Jews.  Josephus says, “When others too joined the crowds about him [John the Baptist], because they were aroused to the highest degree by his sermons, Herod became alarmed.  Eloquence that had so great an effect on humankind might lead to some form of sedition, for it looked as if they would be guided by John in everything that they did.”  The authorities see in John’s rhetoric a powerful subversive force; Jesus sees in it a proclamation of the gospel.  Like Herod before them, those in power in Jerusalem are motivated by their “fear of the people”.  They don’t consider the truth of John’s words, but rather their effect on the people.  Because Jesus sees John’s words as gospel proclamation, he sees their missions, his and John’s, as being intricately linked.  John the Baptist is introduced in Mark’s gospel with a direct quote from Malachi 3:1, “behold, I send my messenger, and he will prepare the way before me.”  Mark doesn’t finish the verse when speaking of John, but we see in it the prediction of Jesus mission as was illustrated earlier in Mark 11, “and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple; and the messenger of the covenant in whom you delight, behold, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts.”  Thus, John the Baptist and Jesus are tied together not only in Malachi, but in history, in the story of God’s work in our world.    

God calls us to not only accept the reality of his presence in the world; he calls us to ourselves participate in his story.  It’s worth looking at our own lives, and asking if we are like the religious leaders of Jesus day, so paralyzed by our concern for the opinions of others that we cannot take a stand.   

“Almighty God,

Help us to follow you in faith.  May our belief in you not be merely mental, but allow it to make itself known through our actions.  Embolden us to take a stand for your truth, for the good news of what you have done for us.  May we share the story of your love with all who are in need of your grace and your mercy.  We ask this in the name of your Son and our Lord, Jesus Christ. 

Amen.”