Homecoming 2012 Sermon – Rev. James A. Wetzstein, University Pastor
Gospel reading: Mark 10:2-16
2Some Pharisees came, and to test him they asked, "Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?" 3He
answered them, "What did Moses command you?" 4They said, "Moses allowed a man to write a
certificate of dismissal and to divorce her." 5But Jesus said to them, "Because of your hardness of heart
he wrote this commandment for you. 6But from the beginning of creation, 'God made them male and
female.' 7'For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, 8and the two
shall become one flesh.' So they are no longer two, but one flesh. 9Therefore what God has joined
together, let no one separate."
10Then in the house the disciples asked him again about this matter. 11He said to them, "Whoever
divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; 12and if she divorces her husband
and marries another, she commits adultery."
13People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke
sternly to them. 14But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, "Let the little children
come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. 15Truly I tell
you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it." 16And he took
them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.
Well, this is a great Gospel reading for homecoming weekend, isn't it?
Nothing says "coming back to Old Valpo" like Jesus getting all legalistic about divorce.
Nice.
On second thought....
The Pharisees seem to be concerned with what's appropriate, and if we take some time to think it over,
we'll discover that any time, any weekend and maybe even especially homecoming, is a great time to
talk, not so much about what Jesus thinks about divorce but about why it is that Jesus is talking so
gratingly in this reading about divorce at all.
One might even say that this reading isn't even about divorce nor any other particular issue in life.
Rather, it’s about how we and Jesus deal with human sinfulness and failure.
Jesus doesn't introduce the topic. Jesus is responding to a question that is asked, not out of a desire to
seek wisdom but to trap Jesus, to ensnare him in the framework of a debate that styles itself to be
seeking after justice and righteousness, but is, at its core, about justification and self-righteousness.
We know from sources outside the Bible that at this time, as perhaps all times, students of the
scriptures were divided on this issue. There were, predictably, conservatives and liberals and probably
many other people in between. However, regardless of differences of position, everyone in the debate
shared the same over-arching agenda: living a life that would be judged to be a righteous life in the eyes
of God and one's neighbor. It's a laudable goal.
The trouble comes when one is in conflict with one's neighbor--either in marriage, or over a difference
of view point on this or any other topic of the Law. Then the agenda often shifts somewhat subtly from
one of seeking to live a righteous life to one of showing my neighbor to be unrighteous by
comparison...to my righteousness.
So the Pharisees ask the question that gets Jesus all riled up.
Now we'd like to believe that we, who celebrate the resurrection are beyond such things when, in fact,
the experience of anxiety-inducing Gospel readings at Homecoming indicates quite the opposite.
The Pharisees ask what (apart from Mark's editorial comment) might seem like a straightforward
question. It's a question that one might ask an ethics professor or a pastor. But Jesus' response to the
question is hardly what one might call pastoral, carefully and kindly applying Biblical wisdom to the
often-troubled circumstances of human life.
No, instead, Jesus makes a blanket statement that immediately sets our minds to describing all sorts of
circumstances, regarding this issue and others, where Jesus' words can't be taken at face value as if
finding a circumstance egregious enough will reveal the tragic decisions of our lives to be somehow pure
apart from the blood of Christ. As though there are some places in our lives, because of great oppression
or the sin of others, for which Christ need not have died, as though a valid measure of my righteousness
is the unrighteousness of another.
This is a great weekend to be confronted by this because class reunions bring with them an interesting
dynamic of dark and light, sin and grace.
Maybe that's not so true for the 50th reunion class. Among the blessings of aging is the gift of
perspective. As we know more and more deeply both the height of life's joys and depths of life's
sorrows, we get to a point where we're just happy to be here. You know, any day that you're not six feet
under is a great start.
But for us in our younger years, when it seems like names are still being made, when reputations remain
on the line, when failure seems to bring the threat of real destruction, the temptation to look across the
class list with a jaundiced and self-protecting eye is great.
Really. They're divorced? Huh. I guess I've not been doing so bad after all.
Especially for us who are in our middle years, when Jesus starts in on us like he does in today's reading,
there's a real perception of threat.
Jesus, if you're going to start calling us out like that, if you -- by your word -- are going to give the
preacher license to call us out, well then, we'll have no choice but to begin to defend ourselves. We'll
have to get right in there with the Pharisees and start cataloging all the extenuating circumstances that
render appropriate my behavior and that of those I love--in this area and others.
Or maybe Jesus word seem cruel because they are only being layered on top of the voice of the accuser
or our own anxious conscience. The voices of accusation that keep us awake at night wondering how we
could have acted in that way or why we didn't see it all coming and do something about it sooner. Jesus
comes off as part of a vengeful defensive team that piles on top of us long after the circumstances of life
have tackled us into the turf leaving is gasping for breath.
Those long sleepless nights of disheartening accusation that leave us exhausted and broken in the
morning. We are vulnerable, helpless and completely dependent, bringing nothing to this life.
Like a child.
Like a child whom Jesus summons to himself for blessing.
So come.
Come you children of God. Come you little sisters and brothers of Jesus. Come with your nothing to this
table and feast.
Come with your nothing and be blessed with the presence of Christ who is your life, even when you
bring nothing but death.
Come and receive his very presence for your life and know that God doesn't dose out partial portions of
life and salvation.
Regardless of who you are, where you've been or what you've done or has been done to you in the last
10, 25, 50 years, come and be satisfied in the one who is your complete satisfaction.
Come.
And then go.
Go into a world of fragile self-justification where the slightest word spoken or left out can threaten a
guilty but self-entitled humanity.
Go bringing both truth and mercy to a world that can't hear the one and rarely hears the other.
Go bearing the word of divine welcome that needs nothing in return.
Go as little Christs, with a word of blessing to children both young and old for you will leave this place
well fed to be the embodiment of the reign of God.
In the name of Jesus.
Amen