February 1, 2009
Grace Church
Rev. Robert E. Hensley

Deuteronomy 18:15-20; Psalm 111; 1 Corinthians 8:1-13; Mark 1:21-28

      Let us pray.  Loving God, you are in the midst of us.  We are tired.  Lead us to rest.  We are filled with doubt.  Give us faith.  We need renewal.  Fill us with the fire of the Holy Spirit.  Our patience wears thing; help us stay in relationship.  We need healing; grant us peace and wholeness.  Help us look beyond ourselves and reach out to those in need whether they stand next to us or a world away.  In all that we are, all that we do, and all that we say, help us claim the promise of your presence and lift our common voice to you in praise and thanksgiving.  Amen.  (“Women’s Uncommon Prayers”, p. 258.) 
 

      I was reading a story online this last week…well that is after we finally managed go get internet service restored to the office late Tuesday afternoon, about a man who was walking across a bridge one day, when he saw another man standing on the edge, about to jump off. So the first man ran over and said, “Stop! Don't do it!" 
 

      "Why shouldn't I?" he said. 
 

      "Well, there's so much to live for." 
 

      "Like what?" 
 

      "Well, are you religious?" 
 

      The man on the edge said yes. 
 

      His questioner replied, "Me, too! Are you Christian or Buddhist?" 
 

      "Christian." 
 

      "Me, too! Are you Catholic or Protestant?" 
 

      "Protestant." 
 

      "Me, too! Are you Episcopalian or Baptist?" 
 

      "Baptist." 
 

      "Wow, me, too! Are you Baptist Church of God or Baptist Church of the Lord?"

      "Baptist Church of God!"

      "Me, too! Are you original Baptist Church of God, or are you Reformed Baptist Church of God?" 
 

      "Reformed Baptist Church of God!" 
 

      "Me, too! Are you Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1879, or Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915?" 
 

      He said, "Reformed Baptist Church of God, reformation of 1915!" 
 

      The first man shouted, "Die, heretic," and pushed him off the side of the bridge.

(Emo Philips, "Laugh at these jokes or we'll shoot the receptionist," GQ, June 1999, 251.) 
 

      Today is Sunday. The Sabbath. Day of rest. The Lord's Day. 
 

      Time for war. 
 

      You know the drill. This is Super Bowl Sunday, the highest of high holy days for whole legions of armchair athletes, the most sacred sporting event of a nationwide army of faithful NFL fans. Are you ready for some FOOTBALL?! 
 

      Tonight is the battle of the titans, the bone-crushing championship conflict between our country's greatest gridiron gods. The NFC and the AFC will hurl their most valiant warriors at each other in an orgy of hitting, kicking, running, tackling, passing, catching, punting and praising God. 
 

      Wait a minute…hold on a second "Praising God"? No way! 
 

      Yes, WAY.  It is getting to the point where the NFL is starting to sound like a wholly owned subsidiary of a Christian television station. Consider this instant replay from a playoff game of the past: First, a Jacksonville Jaguars quarterback informs a sideline reporter that God is responsible for the Jags' victory. Not coaches, players, recruiters, trainers or owners; nope, GOD is responsible. And how does this QB account for his team's success? "Thanks be to God," he says. "There's a bunch of guys on this team who really love the Lord." 
 

      Then you may recall that the New England Patriots' Keith Byars began his post-game recap with "Thanks be to God from whom all blessings flow." From this doxology he drifts seamlessly, as if it were a standard feature of the football format, into a detailed analysis of passes, tackles and punts. 
 

      During the same interview, Patriots' owner Bob Kraft revealed that his coach has given him a chai pendant, containing the Hebrew word for "life" – a pendant that the coach had kept pocketed during the Patriots' lopsided 28 to 3 victory over the Pittsburgh Steelers that year. When asked whether God would favor one side or the other in a matchup of passionately religious players, Coach Bill Parcells (then with the Patriots) replied judiciously: "No disrespect to anyone, but it usually works better when the players are good and fast." Yeah, that makes sense! (see Marge Garber, "Two-Point Conversion," Symptoms of Culture [New York: Routledge, 1998], 45-46). 
 

      Teammates, you know the score: There's a lot of holiness in the huddle these days, and some of the players on the winning team in today's Super Bowl will no doubt give God the glory. But this is really nothing new, and not unique to the NFL. In today's lesson from Mark, there is another huddle, and it takes place in the synagogue in Capernaum, where Jesus is providing the Game Plan for his players. Suddenly, a psychotic stranger jumps on the playing field – a possessed, raving fan – a fan-a-tic frothing like a Cleveland Browns dawg. 
 

      Getting right up in Jesus' face, he screeches, "What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?" 
 

      Hey pal…calm down…it's the Sabbath.  
 

      "Have you come to destroy us?" 
 

      Chill out, buddy. This is our day of rest.  
 

      “I know who you are," he thunders, "the Holy One of God." 
 

      Okay then. Time for war. 
 

      Jesus reprimands and rebukes the demon, saying, "Be silent, and come out of him!" And the unclean spirit, convulsing the man and crying with a loud voice, comes popping out like a fumbled football. Jesus exudes such authority that even demons obey instantly. Jesus possesses such poise that even evil forces know that he is the Holy One of God. Jesus is pumped up with such power that even unclean spirits know that his arrival on the field marks the end of the Super Bowl for them, the end of their season of domination over men and women. 
 

      Jesus, in other words, takes control of the chaos. There's no doubt about the chaos today.  Commercials will cost sponsors a million bucks a pop. The Super Bowl hype has been on for weeks, although you have probably not been aware of it as much this year thanks to the election and inauguration. Players have been either head-faking or trash-talking the opposing players and team – trying to get into their heads, if not their hearts.  
 

      In our gospel reading for this morning there is chaos in the synagogue as well. A man of uncertain identity staggers into the synagogue like a streaker running across the midfield.  Like the quarterback, Jesus takes control and calls the play: a two-point conversion designed to give victory to this demented fan. Point one: Be silent. Point two: Come out of him. 
 

      This is a solid strategy for any player in any huddle, on or off the field. A conversion can be a life-changing or a game-winning event, and whether you are talking about that conversion which first re-creates you into a committed disciple of Jesus Christ, or the conversion which later calls you to reorder your priorities; you probably need to do two things. First, be quiet – and listen to the authoritative voice of God. Second, "Come out of him" – that is, break free, let go, get rid of something. Something's always got to give.  
 

      Be silent, and come out of him. Two-point conversion. It's a game-winning call. 
 

      So how is it that we execute what the playbook lays out for us? The command to be silent and listen is no bush-league challenge. So often in prayer we ask for what we want – whether it is victory on the playing field or vision for a business plan. The New York Giants used to kneel and pray as an opposing kicker tried for a last-second field goal, raising the question of whether it's really very Christian to pray for somebody to blow a kick. And when the University of Oklahoma football team beat archrival Texas in overtime, the Oklahoma coach declared on ABC-TV that "This was Jesus Christ working through my players" (Garber, 52-53). 
 

      Say, what? You mean that the Lord Jesus actually turned his back on Texas? That God's ears were tuned only to the pious petitions of the people of Oklahoma?  
 

      That's hard to believe.  It is usually better to keep our mouth shut which allows us to listen to the authoritative voice of God. Author Kathleen Norris used to play a game with elementary-school children in which she would make a deal with them. "First you get to make noise," she would bargain, "and then you'll make silence." 
 

      The time of noise was always predictably chaotic – shouting, pounding and stomping, like a football team exploding out of a locker room. But the period of silence that followed was unexpectedly passionate and creative. When the children were asked to write about it, reflects Norris, "their images often had a depth and maturity that was unlike anything else they wrote." 
 

      One boy wrote that "Silence is a tree spreading its branches to the sun." 
 

      One third-grader's poem turned into a prayer: "Silence is spiders spinning their webs; it's like a silkworm making its silk. Lord, help me to know when to be silent."

      And one little girl offered a gem of spiritual wisdom that Norris finds herself returning to when her life becomes too noisy and distracting: "Silence reminds me to take my soul with me wherever I go" (Kathleen Norris, Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith [New York: Riverhead Books, 1998], 16-17). 
 

      When we follow the command of Jesus to be silent, we spread our branches to the sun and soak up the light of God's love, forgiveness and peace. When we hear God's still, small voice, we are like silkworms spinning the silk of a sanctified life. When we listen for the guidance of the Lord – really listen, instead of telling God all about what we are convinced we need to achieve – we rediscover that our most precious treasure is the soul that each of us has from the very beginning of life, a soul that we really should remember to take with us into all of the unexpected surprises that each day holds in store for us.  
 

      You won't hear any of this kind of wisdom from the talking heads offering color commentary at tonight's Super Bowl. Such insight requires a certain amount of simplicity…and silence. 
 

      But don't just stop after you've found quiet. Jesus goes on to say, "Come out of him!"  Translated, that means breaking free, to let go, to get rid of something. If we want to achieve our goal, then something has got to give. 
 

      One thing we should get rid of right off the bat is the aggressiveness that we feel toward people outside the church, people unlike ourselves, people on "other teams." There's a lot of love within this congregation, and that's a wonderful thing, but if we're really honest with ourselves, we'll discover that what makes a group a group, and what makes a team a team, is rarely love alone – there is also a certain amount of aggression. 
 

      Think about it. What is motivating today's NFC champion is more than just brotherly love between teammates who respect each other, work well together, and believe in the same game plan. There is also a deep, desperate, driving desire once again to dominate the AFC. 
 

      The cement that really binds a group is both love and aggression. "It is always possible to bind together a considerable number of people in love," wrote Sigmund Freud in his book Civilization and Its Discontents, "so long as there are other people left over to receive the manifestations of their aggressiveness" (70). You don't have to be Freudian to see that the cigar-chomping Austrian analyst was on to something. Just look around at any civil war that has taken place in any country over time. Duke fans that love each other and hate the University of North Carolina, Christians who are bound by love for one another, but also by aggression toward anyone who threatens to disrupt the morals, the mission and the ministry of their brand of church.

      This is true, isn't it? Nothing puts us in an "Onward, Christian Soldiers" mood faster than a threat to the health of the church. Our blood starts rushing, our wrath starts rising, and our passion starts to push us into a rampage of righteousness. But as natural as this burst of aggression is, it doesn't seem to be terribly Christ-centered. After all, our Lord is the one who broke tradition by breaking bread with sinners, who loved the one lost sheep as much as the 99 in the fold, and who came to call "not the righteous but sinners" (Mark 2:17). 
 

      The call of Jesus to "Come out of him!" – meaning break free, let go, get rid of something. Break free of the natural desire to beat your enemies into submission. Better to submit yourself to God, and to let your good works show the world the awesome power of the Christian life. 
 

      Let go of your craving for worldly success, a hunger for food that can never truly satisfy. Better to feast on Scripture and the still, small voice of God, and to let yourself be filled by the satisfaction of a sanctified life. 
 

      Get rid of the competitive spirit that forces people to end up as either winners or losers, the victors or the vanquished. Better to welcome the Holy Spirit, who wants everyone to win by discovering and accepting the salvation of our gracious God. 
 

      Something's got to give if we are going to get to where Jesus wants us to go. That's heaven, by the way – not Super Bowl XVIII.  Amen.