Sermon for the Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost

Texts:
Numbers 11:4-6, 10-16, 24-29;
James 5:14-20;
Mark 9:38-50.

Have you noticed how the crowded the calendar is anymore? Is there any day, week, or month that doesn’t have a commemoration attached to it? It’s hard to keep track of them all, much less remember to honor them.

It’s as true in the church calendar as in the secular world. In fact religious observances are probably where this all began. Today is not only the nineteenth Sunday after the ancient spring harvest festival of Pentecost, it’s also the feast day of St. Michael and All Angels. But who remembers that?

Actually, it’s never overlooked in the United Kingdom because this day became associated with the fall harvest festival. In the old farming culture, children began the school year after helping bring the harvest in. It’s still the start of a new school term called Michaelmas.

For those of us whose church affiliation has always been Protestant of some variety, saint’s days are rare. The October 4th feast of St. Francis has made something of a comeback in recent years to celebrate and bless earth’s creatures. Otherwise, we rarely invoke the saints.

There are theological reasons for this. The church before the reformation had a very lengthy list of saints. Most had been ordinary faithful servant Christians in life. Some had died defending their faith. Some were associated with miraculous events.

Somewhere along the way people began to believe they needed the help of saints to bring their needs and concerns to God. It was assumed that saints lived eternally in close proximity to God. A saint’s whisper of advocacy on someone’s behalf could go a long way toward deliverance from pain or misfortune.

The protestant reformers pointed out that Jesus is our deliverer. Besides, Jesus said that God is close to us, not far away. We can go to God directly with our prayers, dreams, hopes, and fears. Saints are fine as examples of faith, but not necessary to health or salvation.

This reasonable theological and biblical position came at the cost of spiritual impoverishment. Practicality almost always does. It leaves out the possibility of…possibility. And, some would argue, possibility is exactly the place where God’s Spirit does the most astonishing things.

Isn’t that the story behind Moses and the rabble that day in the desert? They wanted the certainty of their lives back in Egypt. Even if it came at the loss of their freedom. They wanted Moses to give them certainty.

The criticism, the moaning, the bitter accusations were too much for Moses. In desperation Moses went to God. Kill me now, he said. I’m done with these people. But God wasn’t doing drama that day either. God suggested restructuring the office, sharing out the leadership burden among some of the others. And Moses began to see the possibility. The elders were summoned to the tent of meeting. The Spirit fell like rain and things were looking good.

Until someone ran in with the news that unauthorized leadership was going on. Two elders who’d missed the meeting were out in the community speaking spiritually. Moses saw this not as a threat, but as the astonishing work of the Spirit.

The only way forward for the Israelites in the desert was through leaving certainty behind and embracing possibility. A shift in that direction began in the tent of meeting. But before the elders had even left the tent, one lone voice thinking to do some good called out, “My Lord Moses, stop them”. And that very nearly arrested that fresh spirit of going forward.

The very same thing can be said of the disciples’ pride over halting an unauthorized exorcism of demons. They expected that Jesus would praise them. As if there’s a wrong way to cast out demons.

Jesus basically said to John, whose side are you on here? Someone is set free and you want to stop it? Look, you’re getting your human spirits in the way of the Holy Spirit. If you won’t work with me, at least don’t work against God’s Spirit!

Jesus put this out in symbolic terms as a problematic hand, eye, and foot. He meant the things we do, our cherished viewpoints, or directions we choose to go that prevent us or others from being open to God and the vastness of a spiritually engaged life. Can we cut ourselves loose from them? These things that prevent possibility?

There are many influences that arrest our development as spiritual beings. There are internal factors. Like prominent people of faith who define what is correct belief and do not welcome wondering. There are external factors, as in educational systems or trusted public authorities that deny or ridicule people who are curious about the spiritual dimensions of life and the cosmos.

James advocates for a life rooted in possibility. People who expect and look for God. Who pray with unrestrained hearts. Whose minds are open, agile and flexible. Who are willing to be caught up in the Holy Spirit’s activity.

There are people who practice these things well. The art of possibility. Of healing and forgiveness. Of being advocate and insight for anyone who is on a perilous path. People walk each day with absolute openness to God’s being and presence.

It’s good to learn from them. Ordinary people who are always ready to be astonished by God. And to do astonishing things with the help of God. They can be friends, family members, co-workers, neighbors, ancient saints, or you, and me.