Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on September 8, 2024
[sermon begins after two Bible readings]
Mark 7:24-37 [Jesus] set out and went away to the region of Tyre. He entered a house and did not want anyone to know he was there. Yet he could not escape notice,25but a woman whose little daughter had an unclean spirit immediately heard about him, and she came and bowed down at his feet. 26Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin. She begged him to cast the demon out of her daughter. 27He said to her, “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” 28But she answered him, “Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.” 29Then he said to her, “For saying that, you may go—the demon has left your daughter.” 30So she went home, found the child lying on the bed, and the demon gone.
31Then he returned from the region of Tyre, and went by way of Sidon towards the Sea of Galilee, in the region of the Decapolis. 32They brought to him a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech; and they begged him to lay his hand on him. 33He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. 34Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.” 35And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. 36Then Jesus ordered them to tell no one; but the more he ordered them, the more zealously they proclaimed it. 37They were astounded beyond measure, saying, “He has done everything well; he even makes the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”
James 7:1-10, 14-17 My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ? 2For if a person with gold rings and in fine clothes comes into your assembly, and if a poor person in dirty clothes also comes in, 3and if you take notice of the one wearing the fine clothes and say, “Have a seat here, please,” while to the one who is poor you say, “Stand there,” or, “Sit at my feet,” 4have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts? 5Listen, my beloved brothers and sisters. Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom that he has promised to those who love him? 6But you have dishonored the poor. Is it not the rich who oppress you? Is it not they who drag you into court? 7Is it not they who blaspheme the excellent name that was invoked over you?
8You do well if you really fulfill the royal law according to the scripture, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 9But if you show partiality, you commit sin and are convicted by the law as transgressors. 10For whoever keeps the whole law but fails in one point has become accountable for all of it.
14What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? 15If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, 16and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? 17So faith by itself, if it has no
[sermon begins]
A couple Sundays ago, we sang to Charlie after her baptism:
♫ Raindrops, oceans, lakes, and rivers, welcome child of God.
Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, welcome child of God.
When the world feels wide around you, when the dark of night surrounds you,
We are here to tend and guide you, welcome child of God. ♫
Pure gospel comfort. Those words. The lullaby-esque tune. The sweet sweet sound of so many of us singing together to the newly baptized. Whether 9 days or 99 years old, baptism is a powerful moment. We hear our truest name – child of God. “Child of God, you have been sealed by the power of the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” Child of God claimed and named by the God who is Love.[1]
Children of God grouped together are called the church. Ooof, that’s a bumpy landing The church, God’s utterly imperfect instrument of God’s movement in the world. Not God’s only instrument. There are lots of Bible stories about God working and moving wherever God wills, through whomever God calls. The church is never the only way God works. Phew, thanks be to God. But the church is a primary way that God works. Celebrating the grace of God, we are set apart for God’s purposes and called the church. One of those purposes is to comfort. To hold other people in God’s tender mercies. To be a people healed by Jesus at the soul level. To be compassionate and self-sacrificing.
Healed by the light of Christ way deep down in our darkest places, we become able to shine God’s loving light. A loving light that fills us with hope Sunday to Sunday, sustaining us through the pain in our own lives and the pain in the world. A loving light that we can share with other people in pain who may never again darken the door of a church. People whose church experiences haven’t gone well. Those of us who still go to church or have returned to the church have friends and family who resemble this remark. Their stories are difficult. Pain inflicted by well-intended Jesus-people is bad enough. Pain inflicted by malicious people in the name of Jesus is anathema to the way of Jesus. Our experience and example as church people, as Jesus’ people, mean hope for a hurting world. Especially in a world struggling with division, pain, and suffering.
“God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday implicates our church hands whether at work or school or hanging out with friends or repackaging rice and beans for Metro Caring’s grocery shelves.[2] It doesn’t get much more “God’s work. Our hands.” than Jesus’ second greatest commandment, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus’ second greatest commandment, found in the Bible’s gospel books of Matthew, Mark, AND Luke, is quoted in the James’ reading today.[3] Except, here in James, it’s called “the royal law.” And goes on to say that “faith without works is dead.” This is a harsh teaching. Like I said last Sunday, if you were handed the book of James as your introduction to the Bible, it might give you pause. Even Martin Luther rejected James for its lack of explicit grace.
Regardless of Luther’s frustration with it, the book of James has its place in the Bible. It has its place when the need around us becomes too much, and the pressure collapses us inward towards despair – immobilizing the church in fear. The book of James has its place when our faith becomes a wall, blocking out other people for any reason. James is the persuasion that we sometimes need to keep going on behalf of our neighbor. It holds our faith accountable. James brooks no argument and accepts no excuses about faith revealed in good works. The implicit grace in James is that God’s law must be about love because other books in the Bible say that “God is love.” God’s love embedded in God’s law curbs the worst of our behavior and calls us into God’s good work of love in the world. Active, meaningful tasks are the very antidote for despair.[4] They don’t have to be grand gestures although those are cool. Augustana Homes being built down the street as affordable homes for families probably fit that category, as do rice and beans repackaging.[5] Mostly, God’s work is quiet, behind-the-scenes stuff – showing up for a friend in crisis, welcoming a stranger, feeding someone who’s hungry, donating blood to save a life…
Like our ancestors in the faith who wrote the Bible, today’s Christians often disagree about what God’s work in the world looks like. Interpretations of parables and stories vary wildly. Take James’ high standards for faithful good works and Mark’s story about Jesus and the Syrophoenician woman. To hear James tell it, the only way to live out Jesus’ call to us is by the purest good works on behalf of the neighbor in Jesus’ name. But the story in Mark argues that God’s purposes are manifested in the actions of unexpected people without a confession of faith.
The Syrophoenician woman was a Greek by religion and language who lived at the seashore miles away from Galilee where Jesus and his disciples were from. The Gospel of Matthew says she was a Canaanite but we’re not going to get hung up on that discrepancy.[6] (Although, it’d be fun to argue whether or not that’s an important distinction.) The woman was a Gentile, a non-Jew, desperate for Jesus’ help to heal of her critically ill daughter. Jesus knew just what to say to draw this woman into speaking her mind.
Some people, including me, find it difficult to think that Jesus needed to learn anything and prefer thinking that Jesus had the whole interaction figured out as a teaching moment for his disciples. After all, he is the embodiment of a loving God and the way he calls her a dog sounds incredibly offensive. Regardless, she didn’t confess Jesus as Lord. She bowed to him and then argued that even dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the kids’ table. That was it. Does her faithful act of challenging Jesus qualify as a good work according to James? Jesus healed her daughter because of what she said. It’s such an odd and offensive story that theologians will likely debate it until kingdom come. Theology debates are fun and intense. But if all we do is talk, our neighbors, the ones we’re called to love, become obscured in the dust and debris of debate and help for them never sees the light of day much less the light of God.
One thing seems clear though. Jesus had an ever-expanding ministry that included unlikely people. It’s why some of us respond to the royal law in James, to love your neighbor as yourself, as the cross-laden hill we’re willing to die on. It’s the work we think Jesus calls us into through stories like the desperate Syrophoenician woman and her demon afflicted daughter.
There is going to be occasional conflict about what being a Jesus follower means or how we as the church work together to be God’s hands in the world or if it’s even right for us to try. Some of us may be more comfortable working with our neighbors in poverty. Some of us may be ready to dive into advocacy and legislative efforts. Some of us may have gifts for showing up for people in crisis. The list goes on and on. Regardless of specific tasks, it’s worth walking with the question as a church. Jesus is bigger than our arguments about what God’s work looks like and greater than our limited capacity to live it out in Christ-shaped lives. Which brings us back to love.
The wonder of this small, revolving planet that sustains our lives makes it hard to fathom how much God must love us. Us. Broken, misbehaving wonders of creation. Created good yet challenged to be good. Beloved yet disbelieving just how much we are loved. Our identity as baptized children of God means daily dying to the way we hurt ourselves and each other and rising into the way of Jesus who was the embodiment of God’s love. The world can feel way too wide and nights oh so terribly dark. We, the church, are called to tend and guild in faith, hope, and love. “God’s work. Our hands.” Sunday reminds us to look to Jesus’ ways of loving our neighbors as ourselves wherever we encounter each other because we have been loved first by God.
Thanks be to God and amen.
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[1] 1 John 4:16a.
[2] www.metrocaring.org
[3] Jesus’ second greatest commandment can be found in Matthew 22:39, Mark 12:31, and Luke 10:27.
[4] Adam Grant. “There’s a Name for the Blah You’re Feeling: It’s Called Languishing. New York Times: April 19, 2021. Feeling Blah During the Pandemic? It’s Called Languishing – The New York Times (nytimes.com)
[5] www.augustanadenver.org/augustana-homes/
[6] Matthew 15:22
