Below, for your consideration and reflection, is the sermon from Bethel's March 12, 2006 Sunday worship service.

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I am enjoying the challenge of teaching an introductory course to the New Testament at Maryville College. Admittedly, some of the students are more zealous than others for a good grade; but on the whole, many of them seem to be intrigued that the Bible doesn’t have to be read exactly as they have been previously taught to read it. The birth stories in Matthew and Luke, for instance, don’t have to be harmonized; the question “who killed Jesus?” can have very different responses depending on the gospel writer, and so on.

In the words of the title of one of the books I am using, Reading the Bible Again for the First Time by Marcus Borg, I, too, am learning that teaching 18 and 19 year olds offers an opportunity to see sacred texts in new ways. I think it is true that we church folk can get jaded by the familiarity of old stories and well-worn texts, to the point that it’s hard to hear new truths. Scripture is scripture because it can and should always be read with eyes wide open to whatever new thing God might be doing.

One of the things I have seen again for the first time is to think about Jesus and his disciples as a family. Now, I know that the idea of family and family values has gotten used and abused in America’s ongoing cultural wars, but it remains an essential way to speak about our identity and the way our character gets formed. In the broad view, the Jesus movement begins with the idea of disciples joining and forming a new family.

Ultimately, of course, the path this new family is on is one leading them to Jerusalem when Jesus will meet his fate as the suffering Messiah. The ostensible purpose, however, for their journey to the holy city was to celebrate Passover, that ancient rite of temple sacrifice and eating unleavened bread and lamb that commemorated the Exodus from slavery in Egypt. As good, observant Jews, Jesus and his followers were headed to Jerusalem in order to relive that moment of deliverance and freedom, much as we do the first Sunday of each month when we share in the Lord’s Supper, our own commemoration of deliverance and freedom.

Passover, typically celebrated in family gatherings, would have been, thus, a family event for Jesus and his companions once they had arrived in Jerusalem. I wonder, then, if thinking about Jesus and his followers as a family can help us to look with new eyes at an old story, like this one from Mark chapter 8 that we heard earlier.

Here, Peter – someone I think of as the oldest child in the family, always trying to impress his “father” figure Jesus whether by attempting to walk on water or trying to say what he thinks Jesus wants someone to say – Peter is like the student in the class who always has her hand up, ready to score brownie points by giving the correct answer. In response to the question “who do people say that I am,” the other students make their attempts to give the right response: “John the Baptist,” Elijah,” “one of the prophets.” All the while, Peter’s hand has been up, begging to have a chance to respond. “But who do you say that I am?” Peter, relieved finally to have been called upon, shouts out with great confidence and certainty: “You are the Messiah.”

Now, for someone steeped in the Jewish scriptures, as would have been Jesus and the disciples, this affirmation from Peter was high compliment, indeed. Peter believes he has answered the master well

But then, something very interesting happens: Jesus tells Peter and the others to keep what they now know quiet. It is a motif unique to Mark, often called the Messianic secret. The true identity of Jesus is to remain a secret until it is the proper time to reveal it, which will be at the time of crucifixion.

Later, we’re not sure exactly when although the verses follow what has just happened, later Jesus teaches his disciples, his family, more precisely what his identity entails, which will include suffering, rejection, death, and rising again. Not what this family expected. And that’s when, at least as I imagine it, all hell breaks loose within that family.

The text says Peter took Jesus aside, but I envision it as a conversation easily overheard. We all know, when you feel anger or frustration, the tendency is for the voice to get louder. Emotions take over. Words fly from the mouth quicker than you can pull them back in. It could not have been a gentle exchange: Peter in the face of Jesus, rebuking him; then Jesus, in the face of Peter, rebuking him back, including those searingly cutting words, “Get behind me, Satan.” We will never know, of course, what else was said or what prior confrontations or even conflicts between Jesus and Peter contributed to or even precipitated this heated exchange.

An indignant, angry Jesus is one we probably don’t contemplate much, outside of that firestorm associated with his cleansing of the temple. But here, he has some choice words for Peter, the lead disciple.

Who knows how or when the anger got defused, the hurt healed? As I repeatedly remind my students, the gospels are not chronological narratives written by an eyewitness but collections of stories that got told and retold again, being edited and revised by each gospel writer to suit his own particular theological purposes in order to reach a specific audience.

The revelation for me as I read this text was that this struggle over the true identity of Jesus represented a kind of family crisis within that kin group comprised of master and disciples. The text also suggests it was one of those proverbial “teaching moments” for the early church, who told and retold the story, when Jesus, too, could be seen again, as if for the first time against the background of family conflict.

My own theory is that most of what we learn that brings an enduring shape to who we are, whether it shapes us for good or for ill, is learned within the broad reach and influence of our own particular family system. It takes a lot of courage and work at self-awareness to overcome any negative repercussions associated with growing up in a particular family. We sometimes speak in condescending terms about another family being dysfunctional, but in truth, all of our families have our particular dysfunction, its just that some are better at hiding it than others.

Rabbi Edwin Friedman, on the first page of his book which is about the family systems approach to pastoral counseling, the best book I know of on the topic, says two important truths: one, that “the family is the true ecumenical experience of all humankind and two, that what most unites all spiritual leaders is not a set of beliefs or practices but the factors that contribute to our stress.” (Generation to Generation, 1). His thesis is that clergy are members of three interlocking families: his or her biological family, the individual families in a congregation, and the family of the congregation.

Thus, unlike almost anyone else in our society, clergy often get to hear the family stories, stories that can be scary but which also can be experienced as epiphany if one has ears to hear.

When I do pre-marital counseling, for instance, I always devote a major portion of the counseling time to creating a context for the couple to speak candidly about their families. I preface my remarks by saying that a marriage merges two families, and that their success as a married couple will depend critically on their honesty about what family has been like for them. They don’t necessarily have to think that family was good, just to acknowledge what it was really like for them. Go back as far as you can, I tell them, recall what you experienced in family, how it felt, what family meant to you, who was in your family, and I add, what were the family secrets that everyone knew, but never spoke aloud.

Often, the counseling session and talk among the three of us brings out into the open memories and perspectives the couple will spend a lifetime working on and working out. And if that happens, not always, but sometimes, I know that I have done well. A composite of all those sessions has me listening in on revelations about family systems and alcoholism, sexual and physical abuse, unwed pregnancy, deep grief, mental illness, suicide – all the range of things we humans struggle to hide, or at least to control or overcome. But in moments of pure honesty and openness to the past, I realize that when a future husband or wife can say aloud that which has, perhaps, haunted them or their families for a lifetime, that, then, demons can be exorcised and the possibilities grow stronger for a healthy marriage and a family system that can endure through future obstacles and troubles.

Like successful marriage counseling, which always hinges on whether the partners are willing to see themselves again and make necessary adjustments, so too the disciples had to adjust themselves to new expectations once Jesus began hinting that “Messiah” did not mean triumph and power but, rather, suffering and death.

Maybe the truest measure of the health of a family is not whether they can avoid crisis, for no family ever can, for witness exhibit A, this family of Jesus, but the question is, of course, what do we make of adversity when it does happen? Can pain or unfortunate circumstances be turned into something redemptive and hopeful? Can the feeling of being defeated or let down by those you love be transformed?

If you follow the story of the family of Jesus and his disciples you recall, of course, that these rebukes in chapter 8 were relatively harmless compared with what will happen later: denial, outright betrayal, and then abandonment by each one of them at the time when Jesus really needed them, his family, the most. It takes a while, and it takes a very dramatic event called the resurrection to bring the disciples around, but eventually they get it right and the family can go on and work on becoming the family of God.

We were over in Avery County North Carolina last weekend skiing at Beech Mountain, not far from where I began my ordained ministry at the Newland Presbyterian Church. I guess it was the proximity to an old home that made me recall the risk of using family possessions in the wrong way. The Peter of my family, Caleb, was about five years old when I borrowed a little pouch that my aunt had given him that she had written on the outside, Caleb’s Money Bag. I was looking for a prop for a children’s sermon, so I took the bag and put 30 quarters inside, planning to reenact the story of the betrayal of Jesus by Judas with the children, including a dramatic scattering of its contents, those 30 quarters, across the wood floor of the church when Judas regretted what he had done and tried returning the money to the temple priests, all of which I believed would make for a memorable Lenten sermon for those children about the dangers of betraying Jesus.

Well, just as soon as I began and brought out the money bag, Caleb immediately cried out: “You stole my money bag.” Which I had, in a way, having not asked permission. And, in a way, I became the Judas at that point, something I had not expected to realize.

And so, I for one wonder, whenever I hear preachers, especially, talk about their own family stories, I wonder if permission has been granted to use the “stuff” of our families: material objects are one thing but something even more precious are the memories and stories, both funny and serious, that have shaped who we are.

I believe one’s privacy should be kept inviolate, whenever possible. But, at the same time, social stigmas do need to be challenged, and we all need to realize that in a family, every member bears a wound of some sort -- some are just more open about their particular circumstances than others. And so, we thought it was good that you know that my son was, about six weeks ago, diagnosed with bipolar disorder, which typically has its onset in early adulthood and which also apparently, sometimes has links with one’s DNA. I had always marveled and to be honest, been a bit jealous, of Caleb’s ability to pour himself into one thing, whether it would be the saxophone or the clarinet, to rehearse for so many hours with hardly a pause and then to perform so beautifully.

We were just in Virginia for the funeral of Melanie’s 98 year old grandmother, and at her service in which I had a prayer, Caleb played the Second Movement of Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto, which was, for me, one of the most moving and beautiful experiences I have ever had.in a worship service.

When he was in middle school and wanted to practice with his instruments for five, six, seven hours a day, I had encouraged him to try to keep more balance in his life, and he did that, I suspect to please me, by excelling in sports for a number of years and doing well on a number of fronts. But now, thanks to medical science, I have a deeper understanding of the chemical workings of the human brain and also a deeper appreciation of the importance of family and being honest about the wounds that all families bear, wounds both seen and hidden, conscious and unconscious. Although the initial weeks of intervention and diagnosis were very stressful, I can report that everything is fine now, and, in fact, a lot of things from the past now make much more sense. We are very thankful that with the grace of appropriate medication and the support of some of the most outstanding musicians in the Knoxville area, he is and will be better than ever.

I tell you this not to put my own family system on display, but to say that each family has something – I’ve called it a wound and a medical diagnosis; you can call it a secret or a skeleton in the closet – call it whatever you like, but it is very likely that there is something that stands between us and the kind of wholeness and health that is God’s ultimate desire. The point is, each family faces choices when we experience stress. It’s not so much whether we look perfect from the outside, but rather what really matters is if the journey can go on with a new realization of the gift of life and the call of God.

If the season of Lent is anything, it is to be a season that should put us on a journey toward reaching the fullness of life intended by our creator. But in order to get there, Lent says we have to be honest enough to shine light on whatever it is that haunts us or threatens or endangers or impedes the soul’s growth toward becoming an image of the divine.

Jesus took his family to task because the disciples, especially Peter, failed to see their Lord as God meant it to be. May we, in our families, especially when there is a family crisis, have the courage to face the demons of our past, to be angry and honest when necessary, and to bear with one another whatever the burden might be.

So let it be. Amen.

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Prayer

O Christ, out of your fullness we have all received grace upon grace. You are our eternal hope; you are patient and full of mercy; you are generous to all who call upon you. You have taken away our sins and the sin of the world. Have mercy upon us.

Give us grace to follow you in this season of Lent, as we journey with Christ and the disciples, knowing that we, like the disciples, will stumble and fall, but that you are there to lift up and strengthen. So help us now to find and practice those spiritual disciplines that will enable us to endure when temptation comes or in the time of crisis or accountability when asked if we have been faithful to you.

We pray for new life for your church around the world and for all who carry out ministries in your name. We pray for fellow Christians everywhere who have taken up the cross and seek to follow the Son, knowing not where he will lead. We ask for new unity in your name. We also dare to pray for Jews and Muslims and people of other faiths, requesting your divine blessing upon them. We pray for those who cannot believe, often because of some pain in life or family, so we pray that they might receive your faithful love. Hear our prayers for those people who hurt or experience rejection in our world: prisoners and their families; the poor and forgotten; the weak and the abused; the hungry and the victims of injustice; children and families without adequate health care or hope for tomorrow. Bring your transforming love to all of these.

Hear our prayers for individuals dear to us and for our own families in whatever needs they might have: be close to Anne Robertson in her time of rehabilitation and healing; see to the needs of ___________________________

We thank you for families and the gift of family and all the ways together we experience your love and grace within our families.

Bring peace and justice to our world too long at war, too long making weapons instead of bread; forgive the foolishness of the nations and enable those who lead to make better choices that would further your purposes of love and reconciliation here on earth.

Holy God, your Word made flesh, spoke peace to a broken world. Teach all of us who bear his name to follow the example he gave. May our faith, hope, and charity turn hatred into love, conflict into peace, and death to eternal life; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who has taught us to pray together, saying ...