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“Rules can be Broken” Sermon by Brian Russo September 5, 2010, Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill Genesis 2:1-3 Mark 2:23-28; 3:1-6
Geez, talk about a guy who actually needed a Labor Day. I’m out visiting with you lovely people, taking kids to Montana, and I feel like I need a vacation. At least I’m pretty sure I’d allow God to cut in before me in the hamburger line tomorrow, I think it’d be only fair… kind of deserves first dibs, don’t you think? But speaking of Labor Day, how cool would it be to actually celebrate it once a week? To take a rest from the work we have done, to observe one day and call it for ourselves a Sabbath? I can see some of your faces contorting into a quizzical look, thinking, ‘don’t we already have that – they’re called “weekends,” Brian.’ Well, show me one man, woman or child who actually does nothing for the entirety of a whole day, and I’ll end this sermon right here. That’s right, I’ll disrupt the coherence of the Presbyterian pulpit and finish a sermon in T-1 minute. You know some of you would want that too… but if we’re honest, you and I both know that I can do no such thing. For we are a busy culture, busy as ants building our underground metropolis (there’s an amazing youtube video of this by the way; ants are capable of astonishing feats). A day off simply does not exist. And what would we do with it, anyway? Even reading would constitute as doing something, so that’s out… so what, we would just sit staring into space, silently praying? Puh-lease… No, instead of truly resting on our weekends, we clutter it with all of everything else that we need to do. Laundry, food shopping, cleaning, whatever. And really, it’s hard to condemn us. When else are we to do our chores? Combine that with going to our kids’ sporting events, visiting friends, and gracing society with our distinguished presence, we really have little time for relaxing, let alone resting and Sabbath-ing. And yet, if were around during Jesus’ time, or even just of Jewish persuasion, then somehow we would have to make time for the Sabbath – to let go of all that “needs” to be done, to do nothing at all but honor and pay our respects to the creator of all things who first ordained resting as a holy event. Especially during Christ’s time, this calling was ever serious. The Sabbath was no joke, it was a Rule of life to be taken as crucially as a doctor’s order; and in some of the more strict societies, its inobservance was absolutely punishable by death. Punishable by death. Can you imagine? You’re out at Giant or the local Piggly Wiggly and some sort of Man in Black comes from out of nowhere and pulls you aside, condemns you of your mortal sin, and recommends your swift execution to the authorities in charge. Wow… the Sabbath, your day of rest, your vacation from labor, was not an option rather it was a rule. Well, except for a Jew named Yeshua. You see, I often think we have it all wrong. We think of Jesus as this ultimate pacifist due to the whole turn-the-other-cheek thing, but in reality, the guy was a troublemaker, a Woody-Wood Pecker of Messiahs, and determinedly so. Go ahead and actually read the gospels, read them… it’s fascinating how Jesus compares, or better, contrasts to the throwaway lovey-dovey language we usually use to describe him. Often Christ is belittling his adversaries, calling them simple-minded hypocrites who are deficient at understanding the simplest of foundations that make up their life’s service, namely their faith. Thus, it comes as no shock to me that leading theologian Dominic Crossan finds it adequate to label Jesus as a non-violent revolutionary Jewish cynic, and for whatever it’s worth, I think he’s nailed the description. For just look at our text from Mark this morning. Jesus full well knows what the Sabbath means to his Jewish tradition, especially at the time he was living. You simply did not do anything on the Sabbath -- it was a day of rest and worship. And yet, in back-to-back events, Christ and his disciples are seen doing the exact opposite. In the first occasion Jesus is simply downright defiant. I mean, it’s like a scene out of a 80’s movie with Jesus cast as the bad boy wearing a black leather jacket, hair greased back like The Fonze. “Eh, we were hungry, so we ate some corn, what’cha going to do about it, I’m the Son of Man…” Well, maybe he didn’t say it exactly like that, but assumedly you get the point. Jesus knew that he was being watched over like prey, and instead of shrieking into the background, he thrust his ministry forward so that it couldn’t possibly be ignored. Jesus declared himself the Son of Man, the Lord of the Sabbath, he could do whatever he pleased, even if that meant passing through your garden and eating your corn. Man, Jesus was one cool bad dude. And yet this does not mean to declare that Jesus was doing nothing more than stirring the pot, nor to say that Jesus found the Sabbath to be irrelevant. No, not at all, for he respected and honored it for exactly what it was worth -- a gift to us, not us to it. “The Sabbath was created for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath.” People precede the Sabbath, and basic human needs trump all. So when rules are established that limit its blessing, especially those that disenfranchise others from receiving its grace, they are instantly rendered obsolete, and justifiably so. And this points us to the second scene from Mark today. And yes, one more time, Jesus finds trouble, but this time by healing someone… that’s right, healing someone. Were the rules of the Sabbath really that important that it would be better to honor their letters than the sanctity of a life? The authorities were so upset because Jesus did work on a symbolized day of righteousness… and that work was healing someone. Unbelievable almost. But look at how poignant Christ’s response is, he asks, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath, to save life or to kill?” You get ‘em Jesus! I’m telling you, the guy is tough as nails, razor-sharp in his retorts, really just one cool Messiah. And that’s in truth what this sermon is mostly about. Sometimes we just need to be reminded of how cool Jesus was. He was not an engraved static image with a halo constantly hovering above his head. No, he was a passionate visionary of a man, with a heart and a mind and a combination of such few if any could rival. And more, within these two examples from Mark, Jesus teaches us that rules in fact can be broken. And I say Amen to that! For rules are sometimes inherently broken from the beginning, their original intended purpose flawed, and thus, they ought to be actively broken and ignored by those who are privileged enough to recognize such. For remember, the rule that once declared that a man bloodied on a path was to be ignored was completely wrong; thank God then for the Good Samaritan; the rule that once declared that a woman was not mentally equipped enough to vote was completely wrong; thank God then for the women at Seneca Falls; and the rule that once declared that an African American was 3/5 of a human being was so completely and horribly wrong, thank God then for Medger Evers, the Good Reverend, and each and every inspired mind who sought to break the bonds of that demonic rule… Simply, not all rules ought to be rules, nor should they be guidelines, some rules are merely the waste of our often polluted minds and need to be thrown away like the garbage they were and are. Now, of course not every rule is evil, nor should they all be broken, we all know that. That would surely lead to chaos. Society needs rules; individuals need rules; my mom’s pious relative who would used to drive through stop signs, saying that traffic laws were “man’s rules,” and not “God’s rules,” she needed rules. Rules are built into the fabric of our lives, and thank God, also, for that. And yet, how many of our rules are similar to those we witnessed in the texts today? How many are obsolete; prohibitive to greater causes; prison guards to our callings? How many then should we really choose to follow? And that’s precisely the point. For Jesus, that revolutionary, defiant, determined Messiah, showed us that we indeed have a choice. That we can follow our own rules and/or the rules of others, and we can break either at the point they cease to answer to the decency of life and the blessing of it. For rules are sometimes broken already, and blessed are those who are wise enough to discern between which and what to do. My friends, let that be you, today, tomorrow and in all of your days to come. Amen. |