Pentecost 5, Year B
July 9, 2006
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
Mark 6:1-6

On the Other Hand… 

The Rev. Jonathan Hutchison – Vicar, St. David's, Bean Blossom, Indiana 

I begin this morning with the sage words of Stephen Wright, the deadpan stand-up philosopher, who said, “On the other hand, you have different fingers.” Last week I suggested that the basis for the religious impulse is the soul’s need to make sense of death (and thereby transcend it). We humans are compelled to adopt beliefs and ritual practices which help give meaning to life, especially when it comes to an end.

With all due respect to Stephen Wright, the fingers on the other hand may be different, but they are closely related in design, appearance and function. On the one hand, religious traditions help us endure that terminal experience which disconnects us from this earthly existence. On the other hand, the word “religion” comes from two latin words: ligare, which means “ to connect” (this is the same word from which we get “ligament”), and re, which means “again”. Religion, then, means “to connect again…to reconnect” with the divine. The same religious traditions help the dying and those who witness death to reconnect with the Source of life, both here and in eternity. This reconnection with the Holy is not limited to the confrontation with death, but can be experienced in other ways as well.

Today, we have a remarkable co-incidence in two of our readings. This is a co-incidence of two closely related words. When taken together, they offer valuable insight into the practical operation of religion in our lives. On the one hand, we have Paul’s remarkable reference (only in passing) to an extraordinary experience in which he was “caught up to the third heaven” and “heard things that are not to be told.” In one system of Jewish thought, there were three heavens. The first was the earth’s atmosphere. The second was the region of the planets and stars. The third heaven was the dwelling place of God. Clearly, Paul was speaking of what has been called an ecstatic experience. The Greek word is ekstasis, which literally means “a change of place”. Paul was “caught up” by the Spirit and was lifted into a high consciousness, a place of communion and communication with God.

Paul’s tells this ecstatic story in response to a crisis of confidence in his relationship with the church in Corinth, hoping to reinforce his credibility and authority. Interestingly, having done so, he moves on. He does not dwell on the phenomenal nature of the experience…indeed, he believes that God has deliberately humbled him, to prevent him from “being too elated” and full of himself. But the fact remains; his ecstasy, his “change of place” has profoundly changed him forever. And it is the nature of this change, the way that it impacts his manner of life and his relationships, that is of the greatest concern to Paul.

Go to any magazine stand today and you will find a number of publications with a general spiritual orientation. These often contain articles exploring the subject of ecstasy as well as advertisements for books, products and experiences which promise to produce such a “change of place” in us. These articles and advertisements typically suggest that our response to achieving ecstasy is one of bliss and contentment. On the other hand…the word ekstasis, which indeed means ecstasy, also means “distraction, a confusion of spirit and even alienation from the self. In both the Old Testament and the New, religious ecstasy is often associated with a sense of terror at the enormity of God, the disorienting strangeness of the spiritual realms, and our incapacity to understand, let alone describe what we encounter there.

This brings us to our gospel reading, as Jesus continues his ministry of preaching and healing in the region of Galilee. Let’s review the most recent developments: He has begun to attract “very large” crowds, who are obviously responding to his remarkable healing work and compelling presentation of spiritual teachings. 

Immediately before today’s reading, he successfully exorcizes a well-known local maniac and revives a little girl on (or beyond) the threshold of death. Immediately following this event, he goes back to his hometown of Nazareth, obviously intending to continue his work. He goes into the synagogue and begins to teach. And, when he does, Mark tells us, “many who heard him were astounded.”

Astounded…in modern English, the word means something like “to be amazed”. Usually, we use the word to describe a generally pleasant state of delight and appreciation. So it would be understandable to imagine that those who heard Jesus that day were impressed with him. After all, they say “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!” Which, of course, makes no sense, because (reading on) the same people begin immediately to discount him: “Is this not the carpenter, the son of Mary…?” Aren’t these his brothers and sisters here with us? In light of this sudden hostility, many students of the Bible have concluded that the Nazarenes are actually being sarcastic, a fairly common response when we are feeling threatened.

The key lies in the descriptive term “astounded”. The word used in the Greek, existemi, is closely related to ekstasis. Literally, it means “to be removed from its place”. Like ekstasis, it can also mean “to be confused”. For me, the most useful sense of the word this morning is “to be shaken”. That’s what I think is happening in this story.

I think that the people of Nazareth are shaken…and well they should be. The teachings of Jesus are designed to shake people up. Listen to him: “The kingdom of God is has come near; repent and believe in the good news.” And what is that good news? It reflects Isaiah’s prophecy that the coming of God’s realm will mean release for captives and justice for the poor. It is a disorienting and deeply threatening new order of things. To hear and appreciate even slightly the implications of Jesus’ message for us as individuals and members of communities, is truly astounding. They are confused and disturbed. 

And the Nazarenes are doubly shaken because they are hearing this urgent, uncompromising message (a message which demands a response) not from some larger than life character like Isaiah himself, but from Jesus, “the son of Mary”, whose brothers and sisters they know in all their human imperfection, the former village carpenter, who was once a runny-nosed kid who played in their streets. If such a one can come blazing back into town, so obviously on fire with such a message…well, perhaps they too have the potential to be set ablaze, taken from their ordinary place into an extraordinary place. This is terrifying.

And so, Mark says, “They took offense at him.” In the Aramaic language of the original text, an alternative reading is “they stumbled over him.” Jesus words and his very presence became a stumbling block, provoking skepticism and hostility. This, Mark says, made it impossible for most of the people to receive what Jesus had to give.

So, here’s a question that I’ve been pondering. I’ve known Jesus all my life. I played in his streets as a child growing up at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Bloomsburg, PA. I know many of his brothers and sisters, some quite well. I’ve heard his message once or twice. I even know a man, I will not say who, who has been caught up a time or two, taken out of his place into some more intimate, expanded communion with Jesus. Maybe you know someone like that, too. The question is, does this familiarity breed a kind of contempt? Do we think because we know him that he has nothing more to teach us? Do we deflect the astounding, disturbing, jarring, demanding impact of the good news, with all its implications, that is always making a new appeal to our conscience? Emily Dickenson wrote: “The soul should always stand ajar, ready to welcome the ecstatic experience.” I pray that this morning, we emerge from our encounter with the Holy (in word and sacrament) with our souls just a little more ajar, prepared to be shaken and astounded into humility and into action. AMEN