“Drop-dead Amazing”

Homily for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany       28 January 2018
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

"They were all amazed.”  Mark 1:27a

Tuesday. Benton, Kentucky. Population roughly 4,000. A 15-year-old sophomore walks into his high school, pulls out a handgun, opens fire. 16 fellow students drop. 2 dead. 14 wounded. The Administration's commentary a gobsmacking 24 hours later? A tweet: “My thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families.”

“Thoughts and prayers.” The official response to a staggering number of mass shootings over the past year. The official response to skyrocketing death tolls and soaring numbers of wounded, including:

November 5. First Baptist, Sutherland Springs, Texas. 26 dead, 20 wounded. Response? “Thoughts and prayers.”

October 1. Las Vegas. 58 dead, 851 wounded. Response? “Thoughts and prayers.”

“Thoughts and prayers.” Up to our necks in bloodshed and bullet-riddled bodies, do “thoughts and prayers” cut it?

We could ask Jesus, but he’s just one data point. Let’s go for a larger sampling: folks — in some respects like those church-goers in Sutherland, Texas — assembled for Sabbath worship at a neighborhood synagogue in Capernaum, the Galilee town Jesus settles into after the grand opening of his public ministry.

Picture this. With freshly-minted disciples in tow, Jesus makes a guest appearance at the synagogue. As is customary, a discussion of the day’s scripture is on the agenda and the local experts chime in with their two-cents … until Jesus hijacks the commentary.

Mark the Evangelist observes that it’s a jaw-dropping performance. “Astounding” is the way he puts it, “authoritative” even. In Mark’s opinion, light years ahead of the same-old/same-old parsing indulged in by the certified experts on tap each Sabbath, the scribes.

And before anyone — least of all, Jesus — can savor the moment, all hell breaks loose. A local described as being demon-possessed — we would say he has mental health issues — causes a wild-eyed ruckus. “Out to destroy us?” he shouts at Jesus. “I know who you are!” The high drama of full-blown paranoia.

Jesus’ response? “My thoughts and prayers are with you."

Ummm. How far do you think Jesus would have made it that day — or any other — with “thoughts and prayers”?  Proof? Fast-forward:

Blind man Bartimaeus: “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus: “My thoughts and prayers are with you.”

A leper: “Jesus, if you choose, make me clean!” … “Thoughts and prayers.”

The non-Jewish woman who harasses Jesus: “Have mercy! My daughter is tormented by a demon!” … “Thoughts. Prayers.”

And perhaps the most eye-popping case of all: In the shadow of the death of her brother Lazarus, Martha of Bethany shames Jesus: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

“You and your family are in my thoughts and prayers.”

But, of course, while Jesus is often thoughtful and perennially prayerful, the amazement he triggered that day in the synagogue is stapled to the fact that he didn’t stop with thoughts and prayers. He did something. He healed the man. Gave him what he needed: sanity.

And that gives the people that morning ― and the hordes Jesus encounters in synagogues and streets and byways all over the region from then on ― their scarcest commodities: hope, vision, and a model for action … because ― compared to the scribes, let’s say ― Jesus does what most only talk about.

Meaning: The people. What do they need? Well, look at their situation. As an occupied population, they suffer one indignity piled upon another. Disease is rampant. Unemployment rife. “Opportunity”? For them, not a word in the economy’s vocabulary.

That makes them chronic victims who have a right to complain, “We don’t need thoughts and prayers. We’ve had it up to here with good (or at least, professed) intentions. We need relief, we need healing, we need jobs, we need food, we need dignity. We need action.”

And, by restoring the disruptive man to his right mind, Jesus shows he concurs. “Thoughts? Terrific. Prayers? Can’t knock ‘em. But they pale next to taking one step after another and another to achieve God’s justice: abundance, ranging from food to jobs, to healthcare and security. All satisfied. No one left out.

And that’s why the people are so electrified — so astonished and amazed — that morning. They can sense ― they can see ― Jesus is one with his message.

And that’s the challenge for each of us after Benton, Sutherland Springs, the Las Vegas massacre …  and the 15,583 gun violence deaths — suicides not included — in the past 12 months … with no end in sight … and scant reason to hope … as we witness one mass shooting after another: one neighbor, one high schooler, one child after another … senselessly ripped apart … while the NRA and their cronies in Congress pump up the body count — a body count that will not be wished away by thoughts and prayers.

That’s the rallying cry of progressives who can taste God’s justice. Progressives like Senator Chris Murphy, of Connecticut. In the wake of the Las Vegas shooting, he took to the internet. “To my colleagues in the Senate and in the House: Your cowardice to act [on gun control] cannot be whitewashed by thoughts and prayers.

“Your ‘thoughts’ should be about steps to take to stop this carnage. Your ‘prayers’ should be for forgiveness if you do nothing … again.

“None of this ends,” the senator concludes, “unless we do something to stop it.”

And none of this ends unless we do something to stop it … unless we stand up, speak up, show up at the polls to vote out the saboteurs of gun control.

Otherwise, thoughts and prayers? That’s all there is? Echoes of Peggy Lee: “Is that all there is, is that all there is? If that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing.”

Yes, then let’s keep dancing … dancing around the issue, while — one by one — more innocent victims in the crosshairs … drop.

Amen.

"Yapper Zapper"

Homily for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany       14 January 2018
The Rev’d John R. Clarke, Rector

"You will see greater things than these.”  John 1:50

Mitch Altman is an inventor with an edge. Edge, as in that slightly cranky, cynical edge some people have. We know who we are.

That means, I admire Mitch Altman’s edge. Because one day in 2008, he had had it up to here. “When you go to a restaurant to talk with friends,” he argued, “why should you have to compete with a wall-mounted flat screen?"

So, Mitch Altman invented a key-chain-size zapper. He called it ‘TV-B-Gone.’ The pitch: Out dining and want to talk? TV in the restaurant annoying you? Zap! TV-B-Gone! And no one is any the wiser. $19.99 on Amazon.com (batteries included!). And spawning copycat apps for your smartphone, like TV-Kill and Infra-Rude. Infra-Rude. Now, that’s edge.

So, if you’re into edge, do I have a patron saint for you: Nathanael, the star of today’s Gospel.

What does Nathanael’s edge look like?

Prickly. When we first meet Nathanael, he’s idling away the mid-day hours under a shady fig-tree. Bulldozing the reverie, his friend Philip runs up with breaking news: “We have found the Messiah! Jesus of Nazareth.”

I mean, this is big. This is the scoop of all time!

What’s Nathanael’s response? In what has the ring of a pop saying — a pop saying oozing red-meat, tee-shirt meme bias — Nathanael cranks, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

Zap! Jesus-B-Gone! It appears that, to people like Nathanael, Nazareth isn’t exactly Harvard Yard.

That’s because of competition — competition for resources, trade, and market share waged by Bethsaida (Nathanael’s hometown) and within-spitting-distance Nazareth, where Philip’s “Messiah” hails from.

But I think there’s more than hometown rah-rah-rah to Nathanael’s put-down, something more insidious going on here: snark with racist overtones. That’s because Bethsaida — with a substantial, commerce-oriented Greek-speaking population — may have been a bit more upscale than not-our-kind-dear Nazareth.

A note: I’m using “racism” here in the more expansive, popular sense beyond (but including) skin color. Racism as singling out a particular ethnic, racial, sexual orientation, or religious population for suspicion. Using the term to span, let’s say, anything from Black Lives Matter to anti-gay discrimination … from gender-pay inequality to #metoo.

And then there’s this: Highlighting what comes off as racism in Nathanael’s reaction is more faithful to John’s Gospel than treating it as an off-the-cuff remark, as some do. Because, at his best, John shows his love for the dramatic — the dramatic tension between two protagonists. Examples: Jesus’ debate with Nicodemus. Or the tension between Jesus and his menacing critics ginning-up the events of Holy Week.

But in this instance, John uses Philip’s response as counterpoint to Nathanael’s bias.

That’s because, to Philip’s blockbuster news (“We have found the Messiah!”), Nathanael might have said, “Aw, all Nazarites are lepers” … echoes of a rank bigot’s recent fabrication: “All Haitians have AIDS.”

Or he could have popped off with: “Once you invite Nigerians — I mean, the natives — out of Nazareth, they’ll never go back to their huts.” Sounds as fresh as a few news cycles ago.

But Nathanael cranked up the volume with: “How could any decent human being — let alone the Messiah — come from a bleep-hole like Nazareth?”

Toxic.

Philip’s comeback? He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t let the comment pass with a “whatever” shrug. He names Nathanael’s racism with the challenge that has been the undoing of hooded and un-hooded bigots since time immemorial. “Come and see.” Read: “You’ve shot off your mouth. Feel better? Now do your homework.”

And before you know it, Nathanael’s derision will butt heads with Jesus’ defiant blend of politics, religion, and entertainment.

Yes, entertainment.

That’s because, no sooner do the duo set out, than Jesus himself intercepts them. Sizing up Nathanael’s full-tilt body language, Jesus gushes, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” In others words, “Get a load of a real straight-shooter!”

Well, it’s a bull’s eye. Disarming, even. But then Nathanael’s edge kicks in. “Hey, how do you know me?”

Jesus goes all-in Vegas. “With my x-ray vision, I saw you in the shade of the fig tree even before Philip called you.”

Well, against all odds, Nathanael is really impressed. In fact, Jesus wins him over to such a degree that Nathanael blurts out bing-bing-bing, “You’re a rabbi! You’re the Son of God! You’re the King of Israel!”

“Wowed by that old carnie trick I do?” Jesus breezes. “Stick around. You’ll see even greater things!”

Triggering the question: If the clairvoyance act is just a teaser, what “greater things” is Jesus talking about?

More than parlor tricks: Trading in Nathanael’s big mouth for big justice.

Read: Everything to do with dismantling Nathanael’s racism — racism to which, as we ourselves are proof, he doesn’t hold the patent.

Take tired — and tiresome — canards we’re all familiar with and, occasionally, hawk ourselves:

“Black people can’t handle dope.” In the absence of facts — actually contravening the data — a Kansas state legislator let fly with that zinger last Monday. Marijuana, which he erroneously labeled a gateway drug, should remain illegal in Kansas because African Americans, he said, are predisposed to get high. It’s their “character makeup” and “genetics,” he claimed. Falsely.

Here’s another one: “Most Mexican immigrants are criminals, rapists, and drug dealers.” We heard that whopper in the last presidential election … along with — from the same then-candidate, who also stands accused of multiple sexual assaults — the boast that women court sexual assault. Ripe for the plucking.

Or, transgender persons aren’t fit for front-line combat.

Or, most Muslims are terrorists.

All sentiments expressed by folks who fear that the country will become blacker … or browner … or gayer … or gender-equal … or more different … or less evangelical.

Light years from Jesus’ promise of “greater things” that Nathanael — and each of us — can look forward to witnessing and cloning. And what are they? Jesus’ actions that will take on any bumpersticker hucksterism that lords “We’re First” over any one of our neighbors.

To go, then, from what those “greater things” aren’t … to what they might look like, remember Oprah Winfrey’s Golden Globe speech last Sunday?

First, a disclaimer: A handful might claim otherwise, but Oprah Winfrey is not Jesus. And I’m not sure — yet — she should be president. Not sure she should even run. But I was struck by Slate.com Dahlia Lithwick’s response to Oprah’s speech:

This was a speech about how seeing someone else model the fight against racism, sexism, and injustice activates us to fight alongside.

It was a testament to the ability to shed light on the faceless and speak of justice and morality in ways that are urgent and original.

On Sunday night, we heard Winfrey urge invisible people to speak up … become engaged … transform policy … and find their own power … by moving from passivity and acceptance … to furious, mobilized participation and a call for allies in that fight.

Can anything great come from a speech like that?

Can anything great come from its predecessor: Jesus’ call to Nathanael … Jesus’ quit-sitting-on-the-sidelines-and-follow-me call to each of us?

Depends. If “great” means laying aside any and all notions of “We’re First” … if it means racism, be gone? Then, yes. Absolutely. Absolutely greater things!

Amen.