Now that it's the season of Pentecost, also called ordinary time, also called the season of the church, we’re going to dive right into the topic of sin. No wonder everyone goes on vacation this time of year! Beautiful, sunny days, and we come to church where the lectionary readings, chosen generations ago and read today around the world, talk about the onset of shame, the broken relationship between God and people, and the fight between people and the rest of creation. Then the Psalm response, which we sang today, is all lament and waiting, which does at least hinge on hoping to receive forgiveness. Paul’s letter to the Corinthians goes on and on about the relative insignificance of suffering, or at least attempts to offer consolation to the church in Corinth who are being greatly afflicted. Then, to top it all off, Jesus is accused of working in cahoots with the devil, he basically disowns his immediate family, AND we get that ugly phrase “eternal sin.” Also referred to as the unforgivable sin, which has led us into all kinds of dialogue and dispute about the nature of forgiveness and if there really is a place of eternal punishment where God would leave us just for speaking against the Holy Spirit, who we can’t ever fully grasp, anyhow.
On the other hand, we talk about sin all year long, don’t we? That’s exactly how we begin every Sunday worship service. We name our sin, maybe not specifically and in great detail, but as a community we confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. At the very bottom of it, we recognize that we have broken the two great and basic commandments: love God and love thy neighbor. That’s what we confess every Sunday morning together. By what we have done, and by what we have left undone, we have not loved. We have not understood love. We have not allowed ourselves to be loved, either.
See, in that first reading, in the garden, at the beginning of life, just before the part we read this morning, we were naked and not ashamed. Sometimes we talk of reconciliation with God as taking away all of our burdens, removing the things we hide behind, being lifted out of the miry clay, but that brings us back to being naked. And we still talk about our nightmares about showing up someplace naked, giving a presentation or something and realizing we don’t have any clothes on. So we cover ourselves, for modesty’s sake, with clothing, and with good manners, then striving for the perfect job, marrying the perfect spouse, raising the best kids, taking the perfect vacation, having the perfect faith. Then somehow these become things we hide behind, and no matter how good they seem to us at the time, or how necessary, they are simply not all there is at the core of us, and neither are they God.
So, at the end of the day, looking back on the hours spent, the money spent, the energy and attention spent, when we’re just in general spent, what’s left?
Love. Compassion. Grace. Let’s jump from Genesis to the Gospel. The set-up here comes from earlier in the chapter, where the people are gathered for Sabbath in the synagogue, and Sabbath is a day of rest, no work allowed according to the Law. Good idea, Sabbath. Rest is important. Rest is holy. So on this Sabbath day, a man with a withered hand is there in the midst of the people. He can’t work, he probably shouldn’t be there, and he’s definitely making some people uncomfortable. You know the type. Any sort of suffering we can notice makes us a bit squeamish if it hits too close to home. So this guy is there and the religious leaders who are all about keeping the law are just waiting for an excuse to pounce on Jesus for breaking the Law (again, he already eats with sinners and cleanses the unclean) and Jesus tests their welcome by asking if it’s right to do good on the Sabbath. He knows the answer. They know the answer. He heals the man’s hand and they plot to kill him. Then suddenly Jesus is the go-to guy for hearings and exorcisms, and he’s even got students who study with him, and I’m not saying the Pharisees, Herodians, or scribes were jealous and spiteful, but their livelihoods were on the line if Jesus got a greater following than their temple did. Here’s this teacher who’s going up against the black and white basics of ritual and religious order, and the people are flocking to him, and where does he think he gets the authority to do these things? He must be in cahoots with the devil, in a bid to take down the religious powers that be. Certainly Jesus has made a pact with Satan to heal all of those sick people and cast out those demons…
In the middle of this paparazzi mess, with all the hungry, hurting people clamoring to see Jesus and all the usual faith leaders grumbling out of the spotlight, Jesus’ own immediate family is concerned for his health and well-being, and they come to try and extricate him from the crowds so he can get away and rest and at least have a little lunch.
So, two things are going on here, from what I can tell. One: the conversation around who is in Jesus’ family. The second: powers of destruction and powers of life are getting convoluted.
Because sometimes the powers of life feel like the powers of death. Sometimes the cure starts out feeling worse than the disease. Sometimes habits and expectations need to die in order for new things to grow.
When the scribes accuse Jesus of working with the accuser, they’re playing that blame game for their own failure to evoke conversion among the people. They have the rules of faith and the right understanding for how things ought to happen, and here’s this rule-breaker who suddenly is drawing away all of their people to something a bit more wild, a bit less tame, a bit more wilderness and less centralized in one location they can control. They’re losing their grip on their positions of power, and grasping for reasons why they can not effect their followers in the same way. There’s gotta be something evil in working outside of the box, they call the work of the Holy Spirit - works Jesus does to bring about healing and wholeness - they call these miracles the work of the prince of demons.
Yet the Holy Spirit is not the one who makes Adam and Eve ashamed of their nakedness in the garden. The Holy Spirit moved over the waters in the beginning, breathed life into the dirt-people to make them human, but never refused to forgive, never refused to welcome and to embrace God’s children. How, then, could the ones who accused Jesus that day know the One whose love they so clearly denied, if they staunchly refused to recognize the work of the Holy Spirit? Jesus tells them they are really missing the mark, way off base in their understanding of God’s character. As the Psalmist says, with the Lord there is plenteous redemption, with the Lord there is steadfast love. Forgiveness is there, is always there. Forgiveness is the language of God. And compassion. And grace. And mercy.
Then this argument is interrupted. Someone tells Jesus his mother and brothers and sisters are waiting outside, and he responds ‘who is my mother? who are my brothers and sisters? The ones who do God’s will are my mother and sister and brother.’ Is Jesus blowing them off like he’s got it all together and doesn’t need them any more? No! Jesus isn’t turning their familial connections down, he’s just expanding them. It’s no longer just Mary and the children who are part of Jesus’ family, but all who do the will of God, loving their neighbors, loving God above all others. What wonderful news for anyone who has ever been left out, chosen last, forgotten, or intentionally excluded! Jesus is reprimanding the leaders, again, for their shallow imaginations and unimaginative hearts. Of course the Holy Spirit can forgive, and heal, and restore. That’s what She’s been about this whole time!
And that’s what we are about, brothers and sisters. Healing, forgiveness, and restoration. We have been claimed by the One who made us and called us good in the beginning of things, the One who followed us out of the garden of Eden and into the world, the One who has suffered alongside us to bring us new life. We are that family of Christ, led by that Holy Spirit who healed and exorcised the multitudes. We have a God who has seen us in all our everything and in all our nothing, our nakedness and shame, who has loved us still, who has pursued us all the way to the cross and brought us with him to the other side of the grave. Who are the brothers and sisters of Jesus? We’re sitting right here. We’re going to baseball games and music in the park and bringing the new life of Christ with us everywhere we go. Because we have been forgiven. Because that’s who God is, the creator who forgives.
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