Scripture: Mark 14:3–9
I tend to be an over-packer.
I have been on three trips in the last month, and I find myself consistently taking more than I need. More books than I could possibly read in a week. Multiple pairs of shoes for running on multiple surfaces, along with tons of running gear depending on what the weather is. A swimsuit, in case the hotel where I am staying decides to build a swimming pool while I am there. If I have room in my suitcase before I leave, I will put something else in it until it is packed to the gills.
Any other over-packers out there?
The problem comes when we do the same thing with the Bible. All of us brings a suitcase of stuff with us when we come to Scripture. Our own biases. Our own history. Our own background of interpretation. We tend to overpack, bringing all of this stuff with us, and assume that the Bible needs our stuff in order to get it right.
This is not a new problem. Case in point: our first Scripture passage this morning. This event in Mark immediately brings to mind two Scripture passages. The first is Zechariah 9, where the prophet rides into Jerusalem, on a donkey, to bring salvation to the people. And the second is Psalm 118, where the people wave branches and proclaim “blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord.” All of this sounds rather familiar, right, as Jesus rides into Jerusalem, from the Mt. of Olives, on a donkey, while people wave branches, and proclaim “blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord.” All sounds good, right?
But then there is this other line that shows up. While the people are waving branches and quoting Psalm 118, they throw in “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!”…which is not in the Psalm. Psalm 118 says nothing about the kingdom of David. This is their addition, based on what they expect Jesus to be doing. Every once in a while, you will hear a sermon preached about how quickly the people turn from “Hosanna” to “Crucify him,” as if the same people praised Jesus peacefully on Sunday but turned violent by Friday. But according to Mark’s Gospel, they were already itching for a political uprising on Sunday. As we talked about several months ago, David’s reign and Davidic ideology brought with it a clear sense of monarchist political and military power. For these people on Palm Sunday to invoke the name of David carried with it a restless yearning to send the Romans packing by any means possible, and they hoped that Jesus would lead them to it. They have this extra suitcase of stuff that they are bringing to the text, and they assume that Jesus will fulfill it for them.
And, by the way, we still do the same thing. Lent is a good time for us to ask what extra baggage we bring to the text, assuming that the Bible isn’t quite good enough until we add our stuff:
- • We are going to hear a lot about political stuff this season, and those of us who tend toward the progressive have to be careful not to add this layer of political stuff to the words of Jesus. An example: Jesus said “love your neighbor as yourself,” but what he meant was this specific government policy, this governmental funding, this governmental program. It is easy to add all of these political biases and assumptions to the words of Jesus, assuming that our ideology was Jesus’ ideology, as if Jesus was an American progressive Democrat. We have to acknowledge that that is our political bias that we are bringing to the text.
- • Meanwhile, a lot of us have to be careful about the stuff that we bring from our conquest history as Euro-Americans. From our history of European-Americans marching across native lands, taking everything they see…and marching into Africa, literally taking the lives and bodies of people to become their slaves…and marching into God’s creation, taking its beauty and balance for granted and churning it into resources for our own use…and marching into the rest of the world with our foreign policy decisions, assuming that we know better than them. How easy it is for us to bring this conquest mindset to Scripture: assuming that because we can take something, that means that God wants us to take it.
- • Or, we don’t have to look very hard to find another Scripture that we add stuff to all the time. The second passage that I just read has this line in it that makes me grit my teeth when I read it: “You will always have the poor with you.” I grit my teeth because so many times people translate this line through their own baggage of greed. People add to the words of Jesus all the time, as if Jesus said, “you will always have the poor with you, so don’t worry too much about caring for their needs.” But, of course, Jesus doesn’t say anything of the sort. In fact, here in Mark, Jesus tells them to be kind to the poor once he is gone. This is clearly not a text about whether or not to care for the poor, but when to care for the poor. But we twist Jesus’ words to say in essence, “there are always going to be poor people anyway, no matter what we do…so go ahead and spend all your money on your own comfort and your own excess and your own possessions.” We bring this extra baggage of our own greed, conveniently forgetting the times that Jesus says “blessed are the poor,” or “sell all you have and give it to the poor,” or the stories that he told about going out and finding the poor and bringing them to your banquet table.
Again, just like the Palm Sunday crowds added their own Davidic militaristic/political ideology to the Psalm, we are all guilty of adding our own stuff to the text. Whether it is our political progressiveness, or our conquest mentality, or our greed and feelings of moral superiority, we are all guilty of overpacking: bringing this stuff to the text because it is what we think God needs. The Palm Sunday crowds did it. The disciples did it. The Pharisees did it. And we do it, too. Lent is a time to examine our own assumptions, biases, and baggage…
…and leave some of it at home.
Let’s return to the metaphor of the suitcase. Have you ever been on a trip for which you have overpacked, only to realize that because you brought all of this stuff that you didn’t need, you don’t have room for anything else? You can’t get souvenirs, or mementos to remind you of your trip, because you have to fit in three sweatshirts that you never needed! It is a bit of a clunky metaphor, but do you see my point? What if we left some of that stuff at home, so that we have more room for what we receive? What extra baggage is filling our suitcase, keeping us from receiving what God has to offer?
A lot happens between the two texts that we have read this morning. We have gone back in time a little bit. Think back a few weeks to the sermon about Jesus’ healing of the blind man named Bartimaeus. It ends with Bartimaeus saying that he will follow Jesus, and he does…right into Jerusalem for the triumphal entry. It is the very next text in Mark. Then, all the texts that Cristina, and Morgan, and Adam have preached about in the last three weeks have actually come since the triumphal entry, during the last week before Jesus’ crucifixion. A lot of the Gospel of Mark happens in this last week, highlighting these powerful stories of those who receive the unexpected and extravagant grace of God.
- • A woman who gives everything she has is lauded for her generosity by Jesus.
- • The common folks, not the rich and powerful, are told that they will receive blessing and not condemnation.
- • A lone scribe, standing against the violent power games of his colleagues, is told by Jesus that he is not far from the kingdom.
And then a woman slips silently into the place where Jesus and his disciples have been eating in Bethany. She brings with her a jar of ointment, worth so much that it would cost 300 times the average daily wage. We don’t know how she would have afforded this jar, whether she represented others who all pitched into buy it, or if she sold something of great value to afford it. But we do know that without fanfare or proclamation, or even a single word, she breaks open the jar and anoints Jesus with the ointment.
The disciples scold her, but Jesus does not. He lifts her up as an example of faith. “Wherever the Gospel story is told, she will be remembered.” An unnamed widow. An unnamed scribe. An unnamed woman. These are the examples that Jesus lifts up as ready and willing to receive the extravagant grace of Jesus. Not the named and powerful. Not the rich and positioned. But the unnamed, quiet, anonymous. Those whose names history has forgotten, God will not forget.
Perhaps that is our good news today, as well. When we set aside the baggage that we bring from the world, we have more room in our suitcase for what God might give us. The story of the last week of Jesus, before his crucifixion and death, is full of stories of the everyday faithful, receiving the blessing and the honor of Jesus. Might that be the way that we choose to live as well?
We have been referencing our Lenten Lunch and Learn book by Christine Valters-Paintner, A Different Kind of Fast. Through it, we have been learning together what kinds of things to really give up for Lent: consuming, multitasking and inattention, scarcity anxiety, speed and rushing, planning and deadlines, “holding it all together.” These are the kinds of things that we bring to the Bible, and to the life of faith, that we think we really need. But Valters-Paintner tells us that the things that we think are saving us are killing us, and instead asks us to consider what might be something that instead gives us life.
For example (and spoiler alert here), this week we will be talking about fasting from certainty. From thinking we have all the answers and that God needs us in order to get it right. Valters-Paintner says it this way:
We often try to domesticate God and to make spirituality about happiness or feeling good. We try and tie things up in neat packages. The spiritual journey is about none of these. It demands something of us and calls us to stand in uncomfortable places while the deserts of our lives strip away ego and power and identity. It calls us to embrace the God of wild borderlands. Lent is in part about dwelling in the border spaces of life and recognizing those places and experiences that do not offer us easy answers, those fierce edges of ambiguity and mystery.
So, this week, and today, perhaps it is inappropriate to think that we can show up without any biases or assumptions. We all bring some amount of baggage. Which, of course, is important when we are packing our suitcase, as well…we don’t want to show up without an extra pair of socks!
But while we acknowledge that we are bringing a load of baggage to the life of faith, let us also realize the importance of leaving a corner of that suitcase for what God might speak to us. Leaving room for the Spirit to inform, enliven, challenge, and surprise us. Opening our hearts for the extravagant grace of Jesus, prepared for the unprepared. Ready for mystery. This Holy Week, may we make room for the grace of Jesus in our lives, and the unexpected joy of the one who grants that grace.
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