We’re on the Way

Mark 10:46-52 NRSV

The first thing we learn from our scripture lesson this morning is that Jesus and his disciples are on the move. They are on the way. Jericho was not the final destination. There is one last stop to make. Jerusalem: Where furious religious leaders, offended by the good news of the gospel toward those who are poor, ashamed of the grace of the gospel toward those who have been cast aside, and shocked by the topsy-turviness of the gospel toward those considered to be the least, have been plotting to put an end to all. Jerusalem: Where a selfless Jesus is prepared to love and to forgive and to be killed for the sake of the gospel.

It is on this way, this way of self-denial and self-giving, this way of self-expending love for all people, especially those who are otherized, demonized and marginalized, that Jesus is confronted by a man who fits every one of those descriptions. His name is Bartimaeus. He is not only blind, he’s also a beggar. He’s helpless, and he’s poor. He’s disabled and he’s dismissed. Because many believed there must be some reason for his blindness, he is judged and demonized. And, in desperation, this “other” is waiting for Jesus on the side of the road. From the margins, he’s waiting for some love. He’s waiting for some justice, and he is waiting for some grace.

He jumps up and pleads: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And notice the actions of the crowd. They try to silence him, for they simply don’t want to hear his cries.

Does that sound familiar?

Have you ever been on the way somewhere, met someone, nodded your head and asked: “How ya doin’?” It’s a stereotypical pleasantry, an informal greeting. You expect them to nod back, and say something like, “I’m good, how ya doin’?”

But then, to our surprise, the person doesn’t answer the way we expect them to answer, the way we want them to answer, the way we believe they should answer. No, this person decides to unload on you. They have all of these aches and pains, all of these troubles and frustrations, all kinds of maladies that you label as TMI.

We don’t like TMI, especially when the TMI has to do with suffering.

I believe this is one of the reasons we tend to avoid people who have some sort of disability. Their suffering threatens us, because their circumstances are a reminder of how vulnerable all of us are. We know that if it could happen to them, it could happen to us, or to one of our loved ones. So, we prefer to keep the sick, the troubled, the unfortunate, and the disabled out of sight, thus out of mind.

I admire companies like Target and Kroger who make it their mission to hire disabled persons. Fortunately, there are many advocates today for the disabled and others who have been marginalized by society who are urging them to come out, to come forward, to speak up, and to seek equity and equality.

This blind beggar does just that. Despite the crowd who “sternly orders him to be quiet,” the man keeps yelling at Jesus, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And the good news is that Jesus hears his voice. Jesus stops. And Jesus calls him to come over.

Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?”

Not surprisingly, blind Bartimaeus says, “My teacher, let me see again.”

And Jesus does just that.  He says, “Go, your faith has made you well.”

Then Mark describes something that he never describes when telling a healing story. Out of all the folks that were healed in Mark’s gospel, Bartimaeus is the only one who chooses to follow Jesus “on the way.”  Out of all the people who were healed by Jesus, Bartimaeus is the only one who becomes a disciple and follows Jesus on the way to Jerusalem; on the way to the cross; down the road of self-denial and self-expenditure; down the road of grace, mercy, justice, abundant and eternal life.

Thus, what we have here in this text is not just another miraculous healing story, but a wonderful story of discipleship. And guess what? It’s not just a story about one blind beggar. It is a story about you and me.

For, I believe we sometimes tend to come to Jesus asking him to heal us, solve our problems, fix what’s wrong with us. We come to Jesus saying: love me, feed me, hold me, and make me happy. Give me some sense of fulfillment. We come to church hoping that we might get something out of Jesus, something from Jesus, that he might give us some semblance of peace and joy. We come to Jesus seeking help, wholeness, security, and spiritual bliss.

But how many of us come to Jesus because we are truly willing to follow Jesus as a disciple, especially to those places that we know Jesus is heading?

After restoring Bartimaeus’ sight, Jesus tells him that he can go on his way. And who would blame Bartimaeus if he turned around right then to go on his way? Think of all the places he might want to go! Think of all the sights that he might want to see with his new eyes!

Bartimaeus could have gone home with his new-found faith in Jesus and love for Jesus. He could have been content knowing that Jesus heard his cries, restored his sight, and gave him salvation.

But Bartimaeus doesn’t go his way.

Bartimaeus goes Jesus’ way.

Bartimaeus chooses to follow Jesus. Where? Toward Jerusalem. Toward rejection. Toward a mission of love, mercy, and justice that will make some in power label him “the enemy within.” Bartimaeus chooses to follow Jesus all the way to the cross.

The irony is that Bartimaeus is introduced to us in this story as “a blind man.” However, Bartimaeus proves he may see Jesus much better than many who call themselves “Christians” today.

Bartimaeus teaches us that this thing we call “Christianity,” this thing we call “church,” is all about following Jesus.

Jesus is not calling people who merely want to be saved, to be healed, to be made stronger, to see more clearly, and to be fed by him. Jesus is not calling people who simply want to agree with him, believe in him, or admire him. Jesus is not calling people who only want to read about him, study him, or sing praise songs to him. Jesus is calling people who desire to follow him.

In C.S. Lewis’ classic novel, The Screwtape Letters, the devil advises an apprentice demon that the main way to keep people from the Christian faith is to prevent the potential convert from doing anything. 

The devil says that the main thing…

…is to prevent his doing anything. As long as he does not convert it into action, it does not matter how much he thinks about this new repentance. Let the little brute wallow in it. Let him, if he has any bent that way, write a book about it…. Let him do anything but act. No amount of piety in his imagination and affections will harm us if we can keep it out of his will. As one of the humans has said, active habits are strengthened by repetition, but passive ones are weakened. The more often he feels without acting, the less he will be able to ever act, and in the long run, the less he will be able to feel.

To the dismay of CS Lewis’ devil, Bartimaeus put his faith into action and followed Jesus, even toward Jerusalem.

At the end of this service, we are going to have what we call an invitation. Some churches call it an altar call. It is a practice that was started in many protestant churches during the turn of the 20th century. Those who wish to dedicate or rededicate their lives to Christ or become a member of the church are invited to come down to the front as a public sign of their commitment.

Sometimes, this practice has been emotionally manipulative. Preachers have used guilt and other forms of pressure to get people to walk the aisles. Because of this, the invitation or the altar call has been dropped in many churches and is very rare in most denominations.

Well, I’m not ready to drop it, and it’s not just because I have a little Baptist left in me from my childhood. It is because I believe, despite its misuse and abuse, the “Invitation,” whether or not anyone ever comes forward, keeps reminding us that it is not enough for us to come together on Sunday morning to get something out of Jesus: a sense of well-being, as sense of peace, a feel-good feeling of spiritual bliss. It reminds us that the point of it all, the point of Christianity is to follow Jesus, to give our lives to Jesus, to stumble after him along the way, even to Jerusalem. To be like Bartimaeus and summon the courage to stand up and not be ashamed, to be willing to give and to sacrifice and follow him on the way:

On the way to hear and answer the cries of the disabled;

On the way to stand up and speak up for those who are otherized, demonized and marginalized;

On the way to defend liberty on the behalf of the oppressed;

On the way to speak words of healing to the sick;

On the way to speak words of grace to those who struggle, words of peace those who are afraid;

On the way to put our arms around the troubled and offer hope to the despairing;

On the way to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned;

On the way to the ballot box to vote for people who care, not just about themselves or their friends, but truly care about the least among us;

On the way to Jerusalem, where resistance, and even a cross awaits.

A Topsy-Turvy World

Mark 10:35-45 NRSV

What a great moment we experienced together last Sunday, as we received the hopeful good news that for God all things are possible! That after 150 years, we are still here, and we are still saying “yes” to following Jesus!

Last week, the commitment of Peter and the disciples, and our own commitments to leave behind friends and family to follow Jesus, were affirmed with a promise from Jesus. With those first disciples, because we are allowing Jesus to turn our lives upside-down by accepting and working for a world where the first are last and the last are first, and the greatest among us are servants, Jesus promised us:

For everything we have given up, he will give us much more. For everything we have turned our back upon, he will give us a hundred times more!

It was a great day! A joyful day! A hopeful day!

But… (C’mon you knew it was coming!) …but, what a difference just one week can make.

Just when we were beginning to think that the disciples were finally starting to get it right, we open our Bibles, and still in this 10th chapter of Mark, we read where James and John, the sons of Zebedee, come asking Jesus if he will do them a favor.

You remember their poor parents, don’t you, Mr. and Mrs. Zebedee? Matthew told us the story of how their family fishing business was nearly destroyed that day a radical rabbi named Jesus came to town. That was the day James and John proved they were willing to drop everything, literally as they dropped their nets, leaving family, their job, everything behind, to follow Jesus (Matthew 4:21).

I am sure Peter had James and John in mind when he said to Jesus: “Look, we have left everything and followed you.”

But today, in the same chapter, we discover that they really don’t have a clue to what it truly means to follow Jesus when they ask Jesus if one can sit at his right and one at his left in his glory.

Pointing out their disappointing cluelessness, Jesus responds: “You really don’t know what you are asking!” For they had no idea that the ones who would end up on Jesus’ right and his left would be hanging on crosses!”

But that’s what it’s like after you say “yes” to Jesus. One Sunday, we got it! One Sunday, we are affirmed by Jesus! One Sunday, the pastor pats you on the back and calls you a kindness-lover, a peace-maker, a justice-doer, and a grace-giver. And the next week, you’re sitting on the struggle bus without a clue.

One Sunday, we feel like we have all the courage we need to stay on the right, albeit narrow, road that leads to life, abundant, meaningful, purposeful, and eternal. And the next week we are struggling, questioning, and wondering if staying on this difficult road with Jesus is really worth all the grief we receive from our family and friends, from our co-workers and neighbors.

We are always being tempted to acquiesce to popular culture. Because, following this narrow way of Jesus really does turn our entire world upside-down, and if we are honest, we’d admit that we’d be much more comfortable if we could just put some of our world back right-side-up.

We think about how good it would be to put ourselves first for a change, to be great again, to live without dying to self, to confront our enemies without having to love them, and to build wealth without having to give everything to the poor. How much better would life be if we identified with the first instead of the last, with those who have the most instead with those who have the least, with the powerful instead of the enslaved.

We think of how much better we would have it if we never heard of a woman whose two copper coins, worth just a few cents, were actually more valuable in the eyes of Jesus than the large bags of money that others were putting into the temple treasury.

We dream of what life would be if we never heard the story of a poor beggar named Lazarus resting by Abraham’s side, while a rich man begs for mercy.

We think about how much better life might be if we never heard the Sermon on the Mount, or the story of the Good Samaritan. How much better would we sleep at night, how much more money would we have in the bank, if could be like the Priest and the Levite who, without a care in the world, passed by on the other side.

New Testament Scholar Martin Copenhaver writes that our gospel lesson in Mark chapter ten bears repeating, because we are continually being tempted “to straighten up the order of things that Jesus turned topsy-turvy.”

As Disciples of Christ were creating a movement in the 19th century to return to the radical teachings of Jesus, German philosopher and cultural critic Friedrich Nietsche was denigrating those teachings calling the way of Jesus “a slave morality.”

Nietshche noticed that Christianity seemed to be most popular among the people in his day who were at were at the bottom: women, children, people living in poverty, people living with disabilities, people of color, and of course, the slaves. He accused Christianity of giving hope to those at the bottom, while offering very little to those at the top.

His criticism served as a warning to the church as they heard Nietshche saying: “If you’re not careful, if you keep teaching the upside down Gospel of Jesus, then you might fill your churches up with the wrong type of people!”

And it was a red flag for the privileged and for the powerful as they understood Nietshche saying: “If you don’t do something about this radical, upside-down topsy-turvy message of Jesus, then your workers may want to organize. They might begin to collectively bargain to improve their economic and social status. Your women may demand to have the same rights as men, even the right to vote. And although it’s unthinkable, they may even want the right to control their own bodies! And your slaves, well, they may rise up and demand to be treated like whole human beings, not just three-fifths.

So, the false prophets in the world went to work. Rejecting the gospel of Jesus that turns the whole world upside down, they began to twist scripture, take it out of context, and even make up unbiblical sayings to preach and teach the antitheses of Jesus, all in order to straighten out the topsy-turviness of the gospel.

“God only helps those who help themselves!” they declared.

“Women should be submissive to men, at home, in the workplace, in government and in the church,” they asserted.

“Children could be exploited for their labor,” they affirmed.

“Jesus was a white European man,” they pronounced in a plethora of artistic portrayals.

“God’s Word sanctions slavery,” they argued.

“Those people are abominations to God,” they preached.

And we know that those false prophets are still very much at work today, “straightening up the order of things that Jesus turned topsy-turvy.”

In an interview with NPR, evangelical leader Russell Moore said that multiple pastors have told him stories about their congregants being upset when they hear words read from the Sermon on the Mount of Jesus proclaiming an upside-down world where the poor are blessed, those who hunger for justice are filled, and the meek inherit the earth.

Moore said:

Multiple pastors tell me essentially, the same story about quoting Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount – [and] to have someone come up after to say. “Where did you get those liberal talking points?” Moore added: “And what was alarming to me is that in most of these scenarios, when the pastor would say, ‘I’m literally quoting Jesus,’ the response would be, ‘Yes, but that doesn’t work anymore. That’s weak.’

So, what do the pastors do? Well, at an alarming rate, many are leaving the ministry. But some stay, but to keep their congregants happy, they water-down the gospel, transforming the offensive counter-cultural meat of Jesus’ teaching into some, warm, comforting chicken soup for the soul. And to pastor a large church, some pastors have traded in the gospel that sides with the weak and the oppressed in exchange for a nationalism that sides with the strong and powerful.

Although this is the reason many people have given up on the church today, the irony is that it is also the reason people need the church today. Because to fight the great temptation to straighten up, water down, or trade in the gospel, people who have made the decision to say “yes” to Jesus need one another. To stay on the radical, narrow, offensive, difficult, counter-cultural, topsy-turvy way of Jesus, we need each other to help keep us accountable and encouraged, especially during these serious times when many in the church are rejecting it, calling it weak.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who stood up to the fascism and white Christian nationalism of his day in Nazi Germany, once prophetically preached:

Christianity stands or falls with its revolutionary protest against violence, arbitrariness, and pride of power, and with its plea for the weak. Christians are doing too little to make these points clear, rather than too much. Christendom adjusts itself far too easily to the worship of power. Christians should give more offense [and] shock the world far more than they are doing now. Christians should take a stronger stand in favor of the weak, rather than considering first the possible right of the strong (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from his sermon 0n 2 Corinthians 12:9, 1934).

The good news is that we are a part of a church where we are going to keep holding one another accountable. We are going to keep one another encouraged and hopeful. No matter what happens this week, or in the next three weeks, we are going to do all that we can do to stay topsy-turvy, following the radical, narrow, seemingly foolish, upside-down way of Jesus toward the poor, the suffering, the marginalized, the prisoners, the refugees, the undocumented, the lonely, the hungry, the dying, the tortured, the homeless–toward all who thirst and hunger for justice and compassion.

Following this way will shock many. It will offend some of our friends and even disappoint some in our family. Because what does this way offer us? Not success, not popularity, not riches, not worldly power, but we believe—we may not always understand, and at times we are even clueless—but we believe Jesus when he says it leads to a life that is full, complete, meaningful, purposeful, abundant, and eternal, and it creates a world that is more kind, more just, more free, and more merciful. Amen.

Saying “Yes” to Jesus

Mark 10:17-31 NRSV

I have some good news to share this morning!

But, first, let me give you the bad news—for that is the order that it comes to us through this morning’s gospel lesson. The very first line of our text sets an ominous tone: “As he was setting out on a journey…”  For we all know where that journey takes Jesus—the betrayal, the denials, the abandonment, the condemnation, the mocking, and the crowds cheering it on, the crucifixion, death.

The bad news is that the journey we are on as followers of Jesus leads us to the cross. It leads us to places that we would rather not go. It leads us to sacrifice and self-expenditure. It leads us down a confusing, challenging road. To be first, we are challenged to be last. To be great, we are challenged to be a servant. To save our lives, we are challenged to lose our lives. To live, we challenged to die.

Furthermore, our gospel lesson teaches that saying “yes” to this journey is difficult for many people. The road to the life God has created us to live is truly narrow, and there are few who find it.

We read that a man runs up to Jesus, kneels before him and asks him a very good question: “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  It is the question of every person: “What must I do to have a life that is full, purposeful and meaningful?”

Jesus replies:

You know the commandments: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.

“But teacher, I have kept all of these since my youth.”

In other words, “Jesus, I have been going to Sabbath School since I was a little boy!”

Mark says that Jesus then looked at the man, (I like this next line) and “loved the man,” and said,

But you lack one thing. Go and sell everything you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.

When the man heard this, he was shocked. And he went way grieving, for he had many possessions.

This is bad news because, here we have a very good person, a law-abiding person, a frequent synagogue goer, a religious person, a sincere seeker, someone raised in the faith, who is unable to say “yes” to the call of Jesus to become one of his disciples.

And here is the really bad news for us. The reason the call of Jesus is rejected is because of something that we, living in our capitalistic society, have a great affinity toward: money. This one is unable to follow Jesus, unable to experience, life, full, meaningful, abundant, and eternal, because he loves his bank account more than he loves poor people.

This is a discouraging teaching for those who live in a culture that believes wealth is the answer to all of life’s problems.

It is no secret that the voters of this country have a history of electing their leaders based on what? The leader’s psychological fitness to lead? Nope. The leader’s moral values and ethical character? Oh, heck no! The leader’s sense of compassion and empathy for others? Ha! The leader’s anti-racist, anti-sexist, pro-LGBTQ sentiments? Lord, have mercy!

It was the campaign strategist of Bill Clinton’s successful 1992 presidential campaign James Carville who answered that question most clearly when he said, “It’s the economy stupid.”

Because what our culture values most is wealth. And we seem to be willing to sacrifice everything that is good and decent and holy to create it and hold on to it. People will vote for someone who uses the same lying, hateful, racist, authoritarian language of Adolph Hitler, if they believe doing so might lower their taxes or assure them that none of their tax dollars will be used to help people of another race, ethnicity, or sexuality.

The spirit of greed and selfishness that possesses our society and drives our economy is bad news when we realize that people with wealth do not fair very well in the Bible. Jesus said it is as harder for a wealthy person to do the right thing than it is to get a camel through an eye of a needle.

That’s the bad news. Now, are you ready for the good news? The good news is that this is not the end of this morning’s gospel lesson.

Jesus responded, ‘For mortals it is impossible [for wealthy people] to receive eternal life, but not for God; for God all things are possible.’

Peter says: ‘Look, we have left everything and followed you.’

And Jesus responds:

Truly I tell you, here is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life.

The good news is that this is one of the few times in the gospel story that ol’ Peter opens his big mouth and blurts out something without getting pulled aside and rebuked by Jesus.

Peter says: “Lord, we have left everything—homes, family, friends, jobs—and we have followed you!”

Peter is saying: “Look, Jesus, we are not like the one who came inquiring about eternal life, only to be shocked and grieved by your strange answer. Although you turned our world upside down, although you said things to us like the first shall be last and the last shall be first, and to be the greatest we must be a servant, to save ourselves we must lose ourselves, to live we must die, when you called us, we dropped everything.”

“We let go of a lot to follow you.  And although we do not understand half, a third, ok Jesus, one fourth of the things you teach us, although you scare us to death when you talk about being arrested, tried, and crucified, we’re still here. We didn’t walk away. We’ve stayed the course, and we’ve kept the faith. We may not understand everything, but we do listen! Well, every now and again we might fall asleep, but sometimes we even take notes.”

The good news is that our lesson this morning does not end with the rejection of one greedy man. It ends with a promise from Jesus:

I promise you, for everything you have given up, I will give you much more. For everything you have turned your back upon, I will give you a hundred times more.

Now, are you ready for some more good news?

None of you in this room is like this one who came inquiring about eternal life, only to be shocked and grieved by Jesus’ strange answers. Although Jesus turned your world upside down, although he said things to you like the first shall be last and the last shall be first and to be the greatest you must be a servant, to live you must die, when Jesus called you, you said “yes” to that call.  Some of you let go of a lot to follow him.  And although you do not understand half, a third, ok, one fourth of the things Jesus teaches you, although you don’t even remember last week’s sermon, although Jesus scares you to death when you read of him talking about being arrested, tried and crucified, you’re still here. You’ve not walked away. You’ve stayed the course. You’ve kept the faith.  You may not understand everything you hear, yet you come to this place week after week after week and you listen. Yes, sometimes you fall asleep.  But sometimes, some of you even take some notes!

Although every muscle in your body aches and your knees and hips are worn out, and it hurts to walk and it hurts to sit, and it hurts to stand, you somehow make it to this place every Sunday you can. When you wanted to pull the covers up over your heads and sleep in on this cool Sunday morning, you got up. You got yourself ready and you came. You are here.

And not only are you here to listen to these strange teachings of Jesus, you’ve decided to follow him on a journey that leads to the cross.  You have decided to follow Jesus on a journey that leads to sacrifice and self-expenditure.

Some of you have given up wealth by turning down more lucrative careers in order make a difference in the world by working for a non-profit or as a public servant, by teaching children or caring for senior adults.

Although you don’t have to, and really don’t want to, many of you frequently volunteer as selfless servants in this community— volunteering at the hospital or the Free Clinic, delivering meals on wheels, helping neighbors with their groceries at Park View Mission, advocating for someone with special needs or serving on the board of a non-profit. You freely share your wealth donating to charity and investing in the community.

Many of you have said yes to be a deacon, an elder, a Sunday School teacher or a board member—to work with our children and youth, to sing in the choir, to give to a hurricane relief fund or to purchase diapers or baby formula to deliver to strangers in need, to do whatever you can, with whatever it takes, whatever the cost, wherever you are, to make this world a better place.

And although the way is sometimes difficult, as few follow and many reject this way, you welcome the opportunity to get into some good trouble, some necessary trouble. You are willing to speak out before the town council or the school board, and you are willing to pay the price for doing so.

Although it has made you the black sheep of your own family, you do not hesitate to defend those who are marginalized by sick religion. Your stand for social justice has caused some of your friends to alienate you or to even unfriend you but you keep standing!

Living in a part of the world where it is most unpopular to do so, where the majority of church people have rejected the way of Jesus, you have fully embraced this narrow way that Jesus taught and modeled as you empathetically stand with immigrants and minorities who are being scapegoated, with women whose rights have been taken away, and with the poor who are being crushed by policies of greed.

And you are standing firm in this election season against Christian Nationalism and White Supremacy, the very Spirit of the anti-Christ that is possessing many in the church today.

You speak up for both Jews and Palestinians. You defend the freedom of people of all religions, and you defend people’s right to be free from religion. You decry all war, violence, hate and bigotry.

You deny yourself, love your enemies, forgive seventy times seven, offer the shirt off your back, and you are willing to go the extra mile to heal the hurting, welcome the excluded, and free the oppressed.

When people say that we should only help those who help themselves, you quote Jesus saying: “We are to love our neighbors as we love ourselves!”

When people scream, “America first!” you quote Jesus saying: “for God so loves the whole world!”

When people chant, “Send them back!” You model Jesus by finding those who are being scapegoated, and you invite them to join you at a table.

And when people say they love the sinner, but hate the sin, you remind them that Jesus never once followed the word “love” in a sentence with the word “but!”

As I said last night at our 150-celebration, you have joined members of this historic congregation, and the saints who have gone before us, to do all that you can do to be a kindness-lover, a peace-maker, a foot-washer, a cheek-turner, a justice-doer, and a grace-giver.[i]

The bad news is the story of this one we read about in Mark’s gospel ends with greed, selfishness, grieving and rejection. The good news is that his story is not your story. For even when you were shocked by Jesus’ strange and challenging teaching, you dropped everything and followed him. And because of that, although you suffer persecution from even the people you love, your story ends with a promise from Jesus. Thanks be to God.

[i] Inspired by the words of John Pavlovitz, If God Is Love, Don’t Be a Jerk (Louisville, KY: John Knox Press, 2021), 69.

This at Last

Genesis 2:18-24 NRSV

Americans have always had a high regard for independence. We believe in a staunch individual ethic that leads people to step up, step out, and stand on their own two feet. We look up to those who are able to look after themselves, to take care of number one, to be responsible, to be independent. And we tend to look down on those who are dependent on others for their survival.

This is arguably the greatest virtue of our society, the aspiration of every child. Study hard, grow up, move out on your own, get a good job, so you can become self-sufficient, self-reliant, self-supporting. And bookstore shelves and YouTube videos labeled, “do-it-yourself” and “self-help” are filled with information to help us keep our independence. Anything else and you are considered to be a failure, worthless, no count, lazy, good-for-nothing. Yes, in our society, independence is what it is all about.

Many grocery stores now have “self-checkout” lines that are almost always available with no waiting. If you are smart enough to check your own groceries, if you have good ol’ American wherewithal and work ethic, if you are responsible and have learned to really be independent, if you have elevated yourself to a place where the assistance of a Wal-Mart cashier is truly beneath you, then you’ve earned the right not to wait in line.

Independence. It is what makes turning 16 and getting your driver’s license so wonderful, and it is what makes the day the doctor or your children take the car keys away from you so dreadful. It is what makes owning a home the American dream, and what makes the thought of moving into nursing home a nightmare.

Perhaps more than any other day, we fear the day we lose our independence. It’s the reason we save for retirement, eat right, take our vitamins and exercise; so we can remain independent to the bitter end.

This is why coming to church can sometimes be confusing, and oftentimes, challenging. We come to church and open our Bibles only to discover that God’s virtues are oftentimes very different from our own. We come to church to reaffirm our beliefs, only to have God call those beliefs into question.

On the very first pages of our Bible, we learn that the first thing that God said was “not good” was, guess what? Our independence.

God looked at the independent human and said: “This is not good.” So, “I will have to keep working. I will have to continue creating to make you a partner, a co-equal, someone on whom you can depend on help you be the person that I have created you to be.”

So, out of the ground, the Lord formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air.

And then the independent human searched high and low. They became acquainted with each creature so closely, that they were able to name each one. But out of all of the animals that they encountered, and out of all of the birds that they watched, they could not find a single suitable companion, a partner on whom they could depend, a co-equal with whom they could share a mutual relationship and an intimate communion.

But for God so love the world that did not give up. God was not finished. God was intent on helping the first human be the person he was created to be. So, God kept working. God continued creating. However, this time, not from the ground; but from the human themself.

As the human slept, God removed one of their ribs and used that rib to make another. Instead of forming another human being from the ground, God split the first human being into two beings, and then presented them to first human. It was then that they said:

“This, at last, is bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;”

This, at last, is the relationship for which have been searching.

This, at last, is the beloved communion for which I have been longing.

This, at last, is my partner, my companion, my confidant, my friend.

This, at last, is my equal with whom I can be mutually connected.

This, at last, is someone on whom I can depend.

This, at last, is what I have needed to be the person that God has created me to be.

This, at last, is one that I must love as myself, for…

“This, at last, is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh.”

I believe this is why Jesus said the greatest commandment is to love others as we love ourselves. As this verse describes every human being. All of us, all genders, all races are co-equals, mutually connected and bound together.

This should describe the moment patriarchy died, the moment all misogyny and sexism, racism and bigotry, became implausible. However, we know all too well that this is not what happened.

The good news is that this is not the end of God’s creative story.

The good news is God was not finished with God’s new beloved community. God knew that an even greater communion was needed if we were ever going to be the persons that God has created us to be. So, God kept working. God continued creating. And, this time, God took it one step further.

God looked at God’s beloved community. God saw the good in it, but also the wicked in it. God saw the subjugation. God saw the sexual assault. God saw the domestic violence. God saw oppressors calling themselves liberators, and predators calling themselves “protectors.” God saw the hate, and the crowds cheering it on, supporting the hate, worshipping the hate, voting for the hate. And God knew that it could be so much better.

So, God, God’s holy self, selflessly and sacrificially, decided to join the community! God came to be with us, and God came to be one of us. God came to show us the way that leads to life, abundant and eternal. God became flesh. God became bone. And one of God’s beloved communities called him “Jesus.”

And one night, Jesus sat down at a table with his beloved community. Jesus took bread and broke it, and blessed it, saying, “This is my body.” Then he took the cup, saying, “This is my blood.”

And here we are this morning gathered at a table with Christians from all over the world, bound together, mutually connected, depending on one another and communing with one another, but also depending on, and communing with a Savior, singing together in one voice:

“This, at last is bone of my bones
and flesh of my flesh;”

This, at last, is the relationship for which we have been searching.

This, at last, is the beloved communion for which we have been longing.

This, at last, is our partner, our companion, our confidant, our sibling.

This, at last, is someone with whom we can be mutually and eternally connected.

This, at last, is someone on whom we can truly depend.

This, at last, is what we have always needed, all we will ever need, to be the persons that God has created us to be.

This, at last, is the One who reminds us that we are all interconnected by the love of our God who never gives up on us, who keeps working and keeps creating until the whole creation understands that there is neither Jew nor Gentile, slave nor free, male nor female, but we are all one in Christ Jesus our Lord.

One day, I was talking with someone who was dying with cancer. He shared that his illness had revealed to him the things that were truly important in life. He said, “And the funny thing is, that they are the opposite of what I always thought was important.”

He said: “I never knew how many friends I had, until I got sick. And I never realized just how important they are.” He said: “Jarrett, the truth is, ‘We really do need a little help from our friends.’”

He admitted that before his illness what he had valued more than anything in the world was his independence, “but no more,” he said, “no more.”

         Then he said: “Maybe that is why God created us to depend on one another. It is like some kind of training.”

“Training?” I asked.

“Yes, training,” he said, “because the most important thing in this life is to reach a point where we learn to be dependent on God, to reach to a point sometime before we die, where we have truly put our lives into the hands of God.”

It was as if he was saying: “No more! Because, now I see it. Now, I get it. In my most vulnerable, most dependent state, now, I know it. This, at last, is what life is all about!”

This, at last, is why we are here: to learn be in relationships; to learn to depend on one another; to care for one another, especially for those who depend on our care: the poor, the marginalized, the immigrant, the isolated, the abandoned, and those have lost everything in the storm. We are here to learn how to move outside our echo chambers to listen and to learn from strangers. We are here to repent of our isolationist tendencies that place our desires and comforts over the good of the world. We are here to learn to resist the temptation to demonize our differences and while dignifying our diversity. We are here to understand that at last we are all related. We are all bound together. We are all equal. We are all united, because we are all one.

And as we depend on each other, we learn to depend on the One on whom we can depend on forevermore;

the One who came to us at last;

the One who came to be with us and for us;

the One who came to show us how to be the people God created us to be;

the One who is still not finished;

the One who is still creating and recreating, working to transform this world God loves by calling disciples, ministers and prophets, male and female and non-binary, in every country on every continent; We learn to depend on this One: This, at last, Christ, our sibling, our teacher, our Lord and our Savior, bone of our bones and flesh of our flesh.[i]

[i] Inspired from: This at Last!, An Intergenerational Liturgy for World Communion Sunday, Nineteenth Sunday of Pentecost year B, was written by the Rev. Dr. Laurel Koepf Taylor, Assistant Professor of Old Testament at Eden Theological Seminary, Saint Louis, Missouri.