Who Are Your Mother and Your Brothers? Sermon for June 7, 2015.

On June 7, we read the Gospel of Mark passage in which a crowd is around Jesus, but Jesus' mother and brothers (yes, Jesus had brothers! And quite likely he had a sister or two, as well) want to see him. Some of the crowd tell him this, to which he responds "Who are my mother and brothers? Those who do my will."

I explore his answer in this Sunday's sermon, and ask it of myself and of the congregation.

I don't normally include in my posted sermons the material that I left out, but I thought you might find it interesting to see what I had written that didn't make it to the final preached version (mostly due to time constraints - it was just tooooo long). But there is some good stuff in what I cut out. The deleted texts are contained with square brackets and is colored red, like this: [the text I didn't use]. Please note that the texts I did not use I also did not bother to proofread, so they might be pretty sloppy or ugly.

In the end, I leave the question with the people in the congregation: "Who are your mother and brothers and sisters?"

Who are yours? How do you answer this question? Please answer in the comment section below.


“Who Are Your Mother and Your Brothers?”
Sermon, Year B, Proper 5, June 7, 2015
Plymouth United Church of Christ, Eau Claire, WI
©2015 Rev. David J. Huber
Focus Scripture: Mark 3:20-35

Listen
“Who are my mother and father, who are my brother and sister,” Jesus asks. He asks it in an open-ended way. He doesn’t offer his answer right away. He lets it hang there for a moment, waiting for people to answer to think of their answer. Waiting for us to think and formulate an answer. Who are my brothers and mother, my father and sisters? Then he answers, “Those who do the will of God.” He looks at the people around him and says, “All these people.” He looks at them and says, “You are my brothers and sisters, mother and father.”

That sounds like an invitation. To say that the family Jesus is talking about is an open group. As long as you want to be part of it, you are part of it.

Sounds like an invitation.

You can’t invite someone to become biologically related to you. Though maybe some day; we are doing some interesting things with genetics. But at this point you can’t. But you can invite them into your family. You can still invite them into your family.

This is an invitation to a new way of thinking about family that Jesus was offering to the people around him. One based not on biology, tribalism, or nationalism, but based simply on one’s inclusion in the group. Whoever you are. Whether one was rich or poor, tax collector or priest, leper or perfectly healthy, Roman or Greek or Hebrew, male or female…. Jesus says, if you are my follower, if you do the will of God, you are my brother or sister, my mother or father. You are part of my family.

Jesus is extending the boundaries of what we think of as family. Extending it to include all of humanity. Anyone who wants to be in it, though I suppose there is room for a person to choose not to be in it. Not by chance of biology, but by the decision to see others as part of the family. To invite anyone and everyone to be part of the family.

That’s some powerful mojo there. The power of this invitation. The power of inclusion.

Everyone gets to be in the family.

Or another way to look it, a better way to look at it, is not to say that everyone gets to be in the family, but everyone is already in the family, and Jesus is merely asking if we are willing to see that, and believe it, and live that way. A way that sees that all of humanity is part of the family. The family of God. Which is a different kind of family than we are used to.

I like to say that we are all part of two different families, perhaps even more, but at least two. There is the biological family that we are born into, or the family we are adopted into as a child or baby, which is immediate enough to be like a biological family. That kind of family is just luck of the draw. You have no choice, other than the person you choose as a spouse, you have no choice in the family you are born or adopted into. You have no choice who your relatives are, or who else is in it. Pure luck of the draw. Some people win, some people lose, most are somewhere in the middle. So we have our birth or adopted family that we no control over.

Then there is the family that we build around us through our lives. This is the family that we create for ourselves around us. The people that we pick up over the years. Our friends, our mentors, our confidants. The people we hold close to us.

That’s the family we get to choose We are born or adopted into a family, and we have a family that we build around us.

That’s one thing Jesus is doing here in his ministry. He is going around bringing people in. He is going beyond the immediate biological relation. He is saying that it is not just about who my immediate family, but that we are all family. We are all part of God’s family. Jesus is building a new family. Or, not building a new family, but helping people to recognize that this is a family they are already in simply by being human. Just by existing.

A family that reaches beyond the boundary of genetics to encompass all the of people of the world. The people at the time did not have an understanding of genetics, not like we do. But we have done a lot of genetic research, and we know that Jesus is up to something even more subversive than we might have thought. Because we know now that all humanity is genetically related. We are not separate from one another. No tribe is separate from another, or nation separate from another. We are all genetically related. So there is a subversive trick of Jesus here, saying that we really are all one family, so let us recognize it.

“You say family is important, and I say to you that we are all family.” Everyone.

The people come to Jesus to say, “Your mother and brothers and sisters want to see you, Jesus.”  He basically responds, “My family is anyone who sees humanity as I do. My brothers and mother, sisters and father, are anyone who sees that we are all one family. A family to which all are welcome because they are already part of it. Everyone is important, and the only criterion for entry is that we exist. To know that you are loved. Or to pursue that thought.

[We can imagine Jesus asking, “Why have you so narrowly defined who my family is? Have you not been paying attention? My family is everyone who follows my will. My family is anyone who sees humanity as I do - that we are all one family, into which everyone is welcome, everyone is important, and the only criteria for entry is not that you be a certain biological profile, but that you are here.”]

That’s what the church is supposed to be! A people who see that we are all related. All one family on this world. Church should be the place that anyone who wants to follow that vision of what the church stands for: that it is for all people. For anyone who wants to experience the divine. Anyone who wants or needs to be touched by grace. Anyone who wants to walk through the doors.

[It is invitational; and invitation that is inclusive, non-tribal, non-nationalistic.]

To be invited to join to that vision of what the Church ought to be. A vision in which all of God’s people are offered dignity, a place for fellowship, a chance to be the best version of the person that God made them, made us, to be, and a place from which we are so inspired by Jesus’ message of love that we make the world a more loving place. Keep extending that definition of who is in God’s family.

[Extending it by following Jesus’ radical and revolutionary way that places love above apathy, hope above fear, grace above punishment, justice above greed and convenient excuses, mercy and sacrifice above complainging “Oooh, that’s too difficult” or “It’s going to cost me too much” or “It will take me out of my comfort zone” or “We’ve never done it that way before.”

Well, truth is, almost everything that Jesus did was stuff that we’ve never done before. And unfortunately, it seems a lot of it is still stuff that we’ve never done before.]

It’s so easy, and so comfortable, to fall back to the tribalist nature, the biological family nature, to want to circle our wagons and just focus on ourselves, forgetting about the rest of the world.

But focusing on ourselves comes with two problems: 1) it’s exactly contrary of what Jesus taught and told us to do, to be outward looking and not inward looking; and 2) it’s also the path to death. It is too insular. You can’t survive looking always and only within.

Some like to say that family comes first, meaning the immediate biological family. But Jesus is saying, “No, it doesn’t.” Now, there are some things that we must be responsible to our family, but Jesus is saying, “look beyond what you think of as family. Enlarge that metaphor.” Follow the metaphor that comes from the Gospel of love that sees all people as part of the family. There is a greater family, Jesus is saying, and that is the family that includes our neighbors. It includes everyone, so move beyond circling the wagons and instead open them up. Be the opposite of a circle, whatever that is. I don’t know what the opposite of a circle might be, but do the opposite of circling the wagons. Something that encompasses all people.

[In another place in the Gospels Jesus says that he has come to pit father against son, mother against daughter. I don’t think he was saying that he wants to foment so much discord within the biological families that everyone comes to hate one another. That makes an uncomfortable family Christmas.]

Living that idea takes risk. It means taking a risk that you, or you and the people around you doing the inviting, might change. Welcoming people requires a willingness to change. But it is important enough that taking that risk is worth it. Welcoming people into the church is a big part of that. To welcome them in. But also as we are outside of these walls to continue that sense of hospitality. To continue to see people as our neighbors, as part of our family, that we are all related and in it together.

[That’s the danger of opening one’s door, if one opens it genuinely and honestly. We do like to open the door and welcome the folks who come, and invite them to be part of the community, but it is an invitation that too often comes with “We will welcome you openly as long as you act like us, speak our language, follow our directions, and don’t do anything that might upset the status quo that we all find so comforting.” 

It’s like creating a restaurant. You make the advertisements, “Come to our restaurant!” Then folks show up, and ask what’s on the menu, and you say “We’re serving green Jell-O with shredded carrots, celery, and mayonnaise, just like we have for the last 50 or 500 years!” To which the greater portion of the population is saying, “But we find that unpalatable.” ]

I think of some of the people who are outside the church. As we know, that number has been growing and growing over the years. I think, though, that most people are searching for something in their lives. Some sense of the Divine, something beyond themselves, something more spiritual for their lives. People who might love to be part of a church community, part of a congregation and its fellowship.

They look at the church and they see the potential. They hear Jesus’ words and they think about what those words mean, and see what the church could be if it followed those words about fellowship and feeding one another.

Then they look through the windows and see [some beautiful things that they desire: the fellowship of sitting around a table and sharing a meal with people who are diverse and interesting. But when they go in, they’re told they can’t be at the table unless they eat the Jell-O and don’t try to change the menu or even change the recipe. They see us, they see the beautiful gift we could offer the world, fellowship and feeding one another, then they watch us mistake the Jell-O for the message; they experience us mistake the seating arrangement for the Gospel; and they walk away. Instead of seeing us live up to the good things they know we can do, they see] us mistake the way we do things for the message that we are supposed to be sharing. They see us get caught up in the way we want to do things, instead of what we’re supposed to do. They see us spread the table of Communion and then watch as we worry more about who is on the invitation list or whose names are on the placecards than we care about the message of the communion table, about what it means to feed and to serve.

Or we say, “You have to be exactly like us to be welcome here.” People are looking for fellowship. Looking for a place to sit around the table and share with one another. To be together with people not like them, from diverse backgrounds and ideologies. But we often miss that. Maybe not as much at Plymouth, but we do, and the Church worldwide the past 50, 60, 70 years have not been as good as we should be being invitational and seeing the whole human family as welcome in the church, and welcome around the table.

[They love the idea of fellowship. They love the idea of coming around a table to share. But we have decided that what is most important is not the meaning or the process of the table, but the stuff we put on it. And not even the stuff itself per se, in a way that says “So long as something is there to serve, we’re good to go!” but our concern becomes that “the stuff” is only one thing, and one thing only: the Jell-O. 

The invitational church says “Please come in, join us, enjoy what we have to offer you - enjoy our Jell-O - but also, please share your recipes with us! Mingle your recipe collection with ours! We are made better, and conform more to God’s vision, when we all share and eat from one another’s recipes.”

That’s one of the downsides of hymnals. They can have great music in them, but they can also become “This is our music. This is our only music. If it is not in here, it’s not worth singing. We are not going to leave the safety of this recipe collection.” But there is so much more music out there! Thank God for Lynn, too bad she isn’t here to hear this, but she has brought us and taught us music from so many traditions, and styles, and other sources. You might not realize it, but in her time with us, I estimate you have learned 100 or so new Christian songs. Probably more. I know some of you might think you don’t much music, or know music well, or sing well, but you have a repertoire of church music that probably exceeds 99% of the churches in the world.]

The invitational church is the church that sees mother and brother and sister and father all over the place, in all of the people that we meet. That’s the kind of church that invites people in to the table, and says, “There is always room for another chair. Always room for one more.” But not even that a chair can be made available, but that it has always been set for you. “Please come and sit and enjoy.”

Jesus asks, “Who is my family?” The answer being, “Whoever is seated at this table!” as he looks at the people around him. Whoever is here, whoever is seated at the table. But there is also this radical world altering caveat that Jesus adds to that. It is, yes, whoever is here. But also, my family is whoever is not yet at my table. All those who are waiting for an invitation. All those waiting to be told that they are welcome. All those that are waiting for someone to take their hand, to invite them, and bring them.

That means everyone who is here, and everyone who is not here yet.

We are all family. I think that’s some of the power of Communion, of coming together to celebrate around the bread and the wine. To be fed and nourished. There is power in communion in that Jesus invites us and feeds. But also that we are serving one another. There is power in that. That communion is not just an individualist action. It is not just me being fed by God. Not just me receiving the bread and wine from God. No, it is a communal act of serving one another and reminding us through the power of that ritual, of passing around the bread and the cup, reminding us in that act that our primary duty is to serve. To serve one another. To serve God’s world. To replicate, outside these walls, that action of serving. Saying that all are welcome.

Which is why we have an open table here. We don’t think anyone ought to be denied access to God’s family. No one ought to be denied access to the family’s supper table. All people are welcome. This table, this Communion table here is for celebration. Just as families might gather at a holiday around your own table at home, this is the table of the church, where the family of God comes together to celebrate our fellowship, our friendships, our mutual love for one another. It is a table for celebration. And it can’t be a celebration when some are intentionally excluded. THat’s not much of a party. It’s a sad one.

All are part of the family. It is a radical message of love to invite a stranger, because this is one of the things the church stands for and one of the most important acts we can do in the church. We do want to be out serving people. There is incredible power in serving people, as we do in our street ministry, in our quilting, and our other ministries. But it is also good to come back to the table and remember WHY we go out and serve. This is a ritual of serving one another around this table, and is the inspiration to go out. This message of love that says to a stranger, “This is your table. This is not just a table of Plymouth, or the table of the Church, this is a table for everyone. A table to which all are welcome. This is YOUR table. Jesus sets it for all of us. Jesus has a chair waiting for you, so here, come, sit. Let us serve you the bread and cup of fellowship and friendship and love. Stay as long as you need. Eat as much as you need. Come as often as you can.”

The power of the symbol of this communion table. It’s a message that says to the world, “We believe all people are loved. All people ought to be welcomed to God’s realm, God’s family. No one is excluded. No one should be pushed outside but welcome to this table to share, worldwide. Jesus has a chair waiting for everyone.”

Jesus asked that question, and let it hang in the air for a moment giving us all a chance to think about it. To think about how we are going to answer the question. What is your answer to Jesus’ question, “Who is my mother or my brothers? Who are my sisters or my father?”

That’s the question that Jesus leaves hanging in front of us. To see whether or not we will follow along where he takes the answer. Who are your mother and your brothers? Who are your sisters and your father?

Amen.

[The Communion table is a table that Jesus sets for us and has entrusted to the church to celebrate and commemorate at regular intervals. This is, I think, our greatest act of worship. This is an active symbol of love: God saying, “remember this: you are all invited to this table. I have established a family table, for you to share meals together as a family, and it is open to everyone. Whoever you are, you are welcome at this table. However unwelcome you are made to feel anywhere else, let this table never be a place where any of my family are turned away for any reason.” There is incredible power in going out to feed people, the serve the hungry; but there is also ritual power, symbolic power, at this table because it is the table of the Lord. What greater act of worship can there be than to say, “yes, God, we trust your word (or “we hear your call” or “that you love all your people, so we will deny no one access to this meal!” and then look to our neighbor and say, “You are welcome here! And we expect you to be authentically you while you are here.”]