“The
Authority of Love”
Mark 1:21-28
February 1, 2009
Dave Russell,
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Very early in his ministry, Jesus was teaching in the synagogue in
What was amazing about Jesus’ teaching was the way he taught: with authority.
Jesus taught with authority.
Well, authority is a huge consideration for us. From parents and teachers to bosses and law
enforcement officials, from coaches and referees to doctors and insurance
adjustors, we have to deal with authority from the day we are born until the
day we die.
And often we have what are politely called “authority issues.” We don’t like being told what to do. We don’t like someone else deciding things
that may affect us. We don’t handle very
well others being in charge.
We speak of “the authorities,” as in, “we’re going to have to notify
the authorities,” and it sounds ominous.
The Internal Revenue Service comes to mind. If someone is described as authoritarian, we
don’t want to have anything to do with them because they are no doubt
power-hungry and have to have their own way.
And John Cougar Mellencamp’s Authority Song tells us, “I fight
authority, authority always wins.”
We have seen authority turn into oppression and tyranny, and it’s not
pretty. We can find our own way, we
don’t need or want someone else telling us what to do or making up the rules
for us.
And yet for all of the negative stuff that authority kicks up in us, we
can’t do without it. Without authority
of any sort, we are all “a law unto ourselves,” and the results can be as bad
as the abuses of authority that we can all name.
In some ways, Baptists might be described as a denomination for people
who have authority issues. We are
fiercely congregational – each church makes its own decisions. The way we order our life together is not
imposed by a hierarchy, and we decide ourselves about property and pastors and
missions and teaching materials and so forth.
We have rejected any official creeds not because we necessarily disagree
with what they say, but because we value human freedom so much that we do not
grant such creeds authority over us. We
need no creed but the Bible, we say, which for us is authoritative – when
rightly understood, when interpreted in the light of Christ under the
leadership of the Holy Spirit.
Well, did you catch that? We may
not agree on what the Bible says, but we do recognize its authority. And we recognize Christ’s claim on us. And we recognize the power of the Spirit in
our lives.
In other words, we can’t get away from authority. While we do not answer to a hierarchy as a
church, we do have rules and traditions and we grant authority to church
leaders (limited authority, to be sure).
You have to have some kind of authority in order to function – the
alternative is anarchy. While we recognize that the final authority for our
congregational decisions rests in the membership as a whole, ultimate authority
is another matter altogether and rests in God alone.
So while authority is problematic for us, it is something we cannot do
without. Our text today provides an
opportunity to think about authority.
Jesus is teaching in the synagogue in
Now I don’t know if you caught it, but something is wrong here. By definition, the scribes were authorities. They had the authority of tradition. They had the authority of their official
clerical positions. They were following
in the tradition of scribes like Ezra. They
knew the law. Surely they had
authority.
Jesus had no official position of any sort. He held no office. His father was a carpenter. He came from common folk. He would appear to have no authority.
Clearly, there is more than one kind of authority. There is authority derived externally, by
position. We have some measure of
authority by virtue of being a pastor or a deacon or a committee chair. We have some measure of authority because we are
a teacher or a professor or a manager.
We have authority because we are an older brother or sister, or a mother
or a father. There is some authority that
comes with the position.
When we say that authority has a negative connotation, it is mostly
this kind of positional authority we are talking about. That’s the kind of authority the scribes
had. And as they expounded on the
scriptures, they would appeal to yet other authorities. “Rabbi X says such and such…the Talmud says
this…”
That is exactly what we so often do.
We footnote the papers and articles we write—without doing that they
would not carry the weight of authority.
We appeal to external authority.
But Jesus was different. He did
not have the positional authority of the scribes and yet somehow, Jesus was the
one with real authority. To be sure, he
referred to scripture, but not always in traditional ways. His teaching was his own teaching. What kind of authority did he have?
It is interesting that the passage talks about the authority of Jesus’
teaching—but it doesn’t say what he
taught. The content was not what was
most notable. Barbara Lundblad points
out that in Mark’s gospel, Jesus is called “Teacher” over and over again, but
we are given very little of his teaching.
You won’t find the Sermon on the Mount as you will in Matthew, or nearly
as many parables as you will find in Luke.
Here, we don’t know what he taught at all, only that he taught it with
authority. Lundblad says that in Mark, Jesus himself is the content of the
teaching.
As we look at Jesus, we get clues about what gave him authority. He did not have the authority of the scribes
that came from position. His authority
was different. It was an internal
authority. It came as a result of being
authentic. He had authority that came
through relationships.
There was an authority about Jesus because he related to people in a
different way. He was not above
friendship with sinners and tax collectors.
Examples he used to describe the
Jesus is teaching in the synagogue, when a crazy man stands up and
begins yelling in the middle of the service.
Where were the ushers? Why did
Bob Parrish let this guy in? The man
says, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?”
Many today would argue that the man suffered from mental illness. Others might say that no, this is demonic
possession. If we read the story at face
value and try to understand the point that is being made, I’m not sure it
really matters. Andrew Greeley wrote,
There is considerable debate about whether
the people whom Jesus healed were possessed by the devil or mentally
disturbed. The debate is utterly beside
the point. These individuals were deeply
troubled and Jesus healed them. Jesus
came to heal both body and soul. Most
scripture scholars now agree that miracles were an important part of Jesus’
ministry… We simply cannot abandon them to please those who say miracles are
impossible. The precise explanation of
how these healings were accomplished is another matter and perhaps one that is
also beside the point. Jesus did not
work miracles to prove anything. Rather
they were signs that God’s healing love is at work in the world.[i]
Jesus is giving the morning sermon when this guy began shouting out at
him. He comes down from the pulpit,
departing from whatever text he had, and confronts the man, or rather the
voice: “Be silent, and come out of him!”"
And the unclean spirit, crying with a loud voice, came out of the man.
In Mark, again and again, it was the demons, the unclean spirits, who
recognized Jesus as the Son of God.
Again, Barbara Lundblad noted that “Those who were crazy called Jesus
the Holy One while those who were sane put him to death.”
This man who had been tormented responded to authority—not the
authority of the scribes, but the authority of Jesus. A different kind of authority.
It seems to me that the Church, as the Body of Christ, needs to ask:
what authority do we have? All over the
place, people are rejecting authority.
Religious authority is particularly problematic as church fights and
clergy misconduct are reported almost daily, it seems, in the media. Authority is not granted to religious folk
simply because of their position. But
the kind of authority that Jesus had, an inner authority arising from who he
was, and authority arising from integrity, is something people will respond to.
When we follow Jesus by welcoming the stranger, by including those who
have been left out, by making a place for those who have been rejected, by
caring fro those in need, we gain
authority. When our lives reflect the
love of God, when our actions are congruent with our words, when our lives
shine with integrity and kindness and compassion, people will listen to what we
have to say. The Church still has
authority, but the authority we have is nothing more than the authority of
love.
A colleague
shared the story of a deeply troubled church.[ii]
This happened to be a Methodist
church but it could have been a church of any denomination. Eight pastors
had come and gone in eleven years. In time, no pastor could be found who
was willing to serve what everyone was calling “that difficult charge.”
Finally, in exasperation, the Bishop called a special meeting which included
several key leaders from the troubled congregation and forty lay and clergy
members of the Annual Conference. The bishop invited the leaders of the
congregation and the District Superintendent to describe the difficulties they
had experienced over the past several years. Then the Bishop said, “Brothers
and sisters, what are we going to do? Whom shall we send to this
tormented congregation to share with them the healing power of Jesus?”
There
silent prayer that lasted a long time.
Finally one of the older pastors spoke out from the back of the
room. “I’ll go,” she said. There
was a collective gasp, and then a sustained buzzing of voices. Everyone
knew that this pastor had been on leave of absence for several years since
leaving her last church in the wake of a scandalous divorce. She had
become an alcoholic, been twice convicted of drunk driving, had spent six
months in prison and a month in a chemical dependency treatment center.
There had been talk of removing her ordination, but since she was so near
retirement she had been allowed to keep her credentials in consideration of her
many years of faithful service and the progress she had make in her
rehabilitation program.
“Are you
sure, Deborah?” the Bishop asked. “This is a very difficult assignment.”
“This is a congregation in pain,” Deborah said. “I know something about
pain. I think I should be the one to go.” Heads could be seen
nodding all around the room. Everyone knew in that moment that the Spirit
had moved among them.
At
Deborah’s request, those assembled promised to pray for her every day.
Then she told them what she planned to do to begin the healing process. She said, “It is my intention to visit with
every member of the congregation before I perform any other pastoral duties. I will not lead worship or attend any meeting
until that task is finished. I suggest that you arrange for someone else
to lead the worship services over the next new weeks. I’ll let you know
when I am ready to preach.”
Deborah visited
each member and asked two questions: How did you come to love Jesus and
why have you chosen to serve him in this congregation? She was warmly
received by every member but one. When
she had met with everyone, she called the lay leader and told him she would be
prepared to preach the following Sunday.
The
sanctuary was packed that day. Deborah said, “I want to share two things
with you today: How I came to love Jesus, and why I believe God has called me
to serve him with you in this congregation.”
It was a stirring sermon. Many were moved to tears. Then
just as Deborah was about to pray, a man stood up in the back of the sanctuary
and shouted out at her. It was Harry, the man who had refused to see her
when she called at his home. He was the long-time leader who had
bedeviled so many pastors before her. Some had told Deborah that he had
never recovered from the death of his wife many years before.
“Who do you
think you are, sister?” he yelled. “We know all about you. You
couldn’t keep your husband and you are a drunk. You’re the last thing we
need in this church. We’ve got enough problems as it is!” He stood
glaring at her. Deborah looked back at
him with sad eyes. She didn’t speak for several seconds. It seemed
like an eternity to the congregation. No one moved.
“I am a
sinner, Harry,” Deborah said in a firm voice.
“A forgiven sinner. And I’ve come to serve with sinners--forgiven
sinners.” Then she stepped down from the pulpit and walked down the
center aisle to where Harry was still hanging on to the back of his pew.
She put her arm around his shoulder, looked him in the eye and said, “I am
sorry about Mildred. She must have been very dear to you.”
Harry let
go of the pew, fell into her arms and began to sob. After a moment, Deborah asked everyone to
gather round. They joined hands and she led them in prayer. When
she said “Amen,” Deborah was aware of something around her that felt like a
collective sigh of relief. The demons
were gone. The congregation would be whole again.
Deborah
served with them for twelve years, retiring at age 74. Harry became a
dear friend and her most outspoken supporter, and, just before he died, told
her that she had been an answer to prayer.
An unclean
spirit had been driven out. A man who had been possessed by bitterness
and pain received healing. And it came
about because of the authority of love, the authority of Christ’s love. Amen.