Sermons

 Vocation: Discipleship and Citizenship

John Wilkinson	Third Presbyterian Church
July 5, 2009	Mark 6:1-13

What does it mean to be given a task, a job, a vocation, to pursue? What does it mean to have a vision, and to seek the means to follow that vision? What does it mean to follow?

Those are the questions we ask ourselves every morning as we awake – whether we articulate them quite that fully or not. More often for me, the questions are of a more mundane nature: what kid has to be where by when and how are they getting there, do I have a clean shirt to wear, what’s for breakfast, what’s on my punch list when I arrive here at church.

Perhaps variations of those questions are yours each day. But at a deeper level, I hope, those questions address more deeply, more fundamentally, the questions of who we are and who we are to be. What we wear and what we eat hover at the surface, and if we are fortunate enough not to get too caught up in them, allow us to live freely enough to ask the deeper, more basic questions. Who am I to be today, what is my vision and purpose, how do I hope to get there?

We answer those questions within many contexts. I am a banker. I am a stay-at-home parent. I am in my 30’s (or 20’s, or 50’s or 70’s). I live with depression. I am a teacher. I am a student. I am between jobs. I am the primary caregiver for my aging father. I am a cancer survivor. I am a Yankees fan.

Those, and countless more, are contexts and labels, identifiers, but not really at heart our true identities.

Jesus is, at heart this morning, thinking about his identity, who he is. He is also thinking about who is following him and what their work will be. They are wondering the same thing. He has been rocking the world around the Sea of Galilee – calming rough waters, healing miraculously, teaching the radical and revolutionary content of the kingdom of God.

And then it is time to go home to preach. I don’t know if others of you with other careers have similar experiences, but preaching in your home congregation is fraught with…I don’t know…let’s just say it’s fraught. Level upon level of expectation, from within and without.

So he goes home to preach. And he fails, spectacularly. His neighbors, those who had watched him grow, who know his family, take offense at him.

This entire interchange could lead to sermon upon sermon, but not this morning, except to have the experience of failure echoing in his psyche and soul. Who he is and what he is called to be and do has been shaken, and more than a little.

So he leaves town to teach in other villages. And in so doing, he realizes that if he can fail, the leader of the movement, the miracle worker and brilliant teacher, then those following him, those whom he has invited to do the same, could more easily fail. They have seen all of this unfold. Holy cow, they say to themselves, if Jesus is met with this, then what’s to say that my experience will not be worse a thousand-fold?

Jesus is aware of what they are feeling. So before he sets off, and before he sends them out, he gathers them in. They have been asking themselves the same questions we ask ourselves. Who am I? What am I to do?

And the fundamental answer – for them and us – has to do with the one who is now gathering them in. I have been compelled, intrigued, converted (to use the old school word), transformed, by this Jesus. What he has said and what he has done leads me to re-frame the architecture of my life. He has called me and I have followed. And now he plans to send me out. I don’t know what it will bring or where it will lead me. But I need to entertain the very real possibility that I will be met by failure and rejection, as he has. And still, when he calls, I will follow. My core identity will be as a follower of Jesus.

With all of that and more in mind, Jesus tells them (and therefore us) how it will be. It won’t be pretty, he tells them. I will send you out in pairs, two-by-two. I will empower you with the gifts that I have been given. Travel lightly – we should remember that in all things. Travel lightly, and if you are rejected, don’t fuss, but move on quickly.

They heard this, and moved out. And they did the work – regardless of risk and regardless of success – that they had been called and commissioned to do.

I don’t know what is was like for those earliest followers. Even months earlier they had not even known of this Jesus. In most of the call stories, Jesus simply shows up, invites them to join his movement, and they drop everything and do so. Perhaps it was like that – no career counselors, no family meetings around the dinner table. But we don’t hear the interior conversation. What we know is this: they had been embraced by this Jesus and they had embraced his calling and commissioning. They had heard his voice and apparently made little calculation of risk and reward, did not parcel out the possibility of failure before they signed their name and committed their life.

In a similar, if not identical way, we do not know the interior conversations of those who formed this nation. Not the well-known ones so much, the Washington’s, the Adams', the Jefferson’s. We know their stories. But the rest of us. Those who traveled to this land from another, seeking a new life. Some sought land and fortune. Some sought the possibility of living in a different political environment. Some sought journeys and adventures, we presume, of a more personal nature. But something called and they were compelled by that voice.

And some, not all, as is often mistakenly characterized – some, not all – came to this place because of their discernment of the voice of Jesus calling them. To practice their religion differently, more freely, or to take on a new challenge of living out their faith in a new land.

So we connect the dots from the earliest followers to whom Jesus spoke directly to the followers who crossed the pond some centuries ago to this little band of followers who gathers here both 2000 years later and 233 years later.

Those are the big questions we face as we wake up – who are we, what are we to do, as Americans AND as people of faith. The answers are not the same as they once were, perhaps not the same as the answers we grew up on. It all feels up for grabs and rapidly changing.

Some would argue that this nation was founded as a Christian nation, whatever that is. I do not think that the evidence holds up to make that claim. Some of our founders were Christian, that is true. But not all. And when given the opportunity, they established a nation with no national church, no national creed, with a separation of church and state, or more rightly, with a freedom for the people to practice their religion without the overt influence of government.

But they did not found a secular nation either. Religious language dots our most important national documents, and churches certainly dot the landscape of our cities and towns and villages. But more to the point, some of our most vital American moments have held religious flavor, and some even a Christian flavor.

Theologian John R. Bowlin writes that “there is a lot of spirited talk these days about public theology, about what it might mean to express our faith in a public setting...how will Christians,” he asks, “find a public theological voice in (this) age…What will we say? What moral posture will we take?” (“Some Thoughts on Doing Theology in Public”)

When we remember, we do well, and ask the questions that need to be asked, and make the witness that needs to be made. When we forget, things don’t always go as well, such as forgetting that we are not a Christian nation, nor that any one political vision is married to any one religious vision.

Sojourners editor Jim Wallis writes that in these days, a central question is the “changing role of religion in public life and politics…It is a mistake,” Wallis asserts, “to tie faith to one political option…the politicizing of faith in such a partisan way is always a theological mistake.” I agree with that.

Then Wallis writes: “But that doesn’t mean a lack of religious influence…” I agree with that as well. (“A Christian Mistake, June 2009) Or as journalist Martin Davis writes: “…religion lies at the heart of what this country is and how it sees itself” (Sightings, “Resetting the American faith Dialogue,” 6/25/09)

Who are we? We are followers of Jesus who live in this land. That relationship may not lead to success – or at least worldly success. But we believe that our vocation is mixed up in following this one who offers transformation, and who gives us the gifts to make a difference – in our politics as well as in our faith.

Jesus calls us into the world, and he calls us into all the world. There is no dichotomy between following him and following him where he calls, no dichotomy between our discipleship and our citizenship – following him in the context – in this case, America – where he calls.

In fact, who we are is inextricably linked with what we are called to do, and as Jesus tells his followers about the risks and failures they will meet – we do the same – whether as patriots and citizens or disciples and followers. We follow, not blindly, not casually, not hedging our bets, not half-way, but fully, and freely – empowered and called as citizens and disciples, to make a difference wherever this Jesus leads us.

We do not live in a theocracy, thank God, where a particular faith agenda controls governmental practices. We believe that Your browser may not support display of this image. Your browser may not support display of this image. Your browser may not support display of this image. no political party has a corner on the politics of morality just as no religious group has a corner on the morality of politics. If either gets too cozy, we lose the prophetic edge of our faith.

Our colonial forbears pressed for independence. Our forbears in the 1800’s pushed for abolition. Our forbears (and some of you) in the 1960’s pushed for civil rights. Some compelling voices were religious voices, but not all. And not every religious voice was on the side of the angels.

We are not a theocracy nor a Christian nation, but in the same breath we cannot imagine an America lacking Lincoln’s great faith imagery from the Second Inaugural, nor King’s prophetic words at the Lincoln Memorial, nor a thousand more modest voices and more. But remember the truth of their witness in the face of massive criticism, and remember where their words led them.

Which takes us back to the failure of Jesus, whose ministry was not about success, or risk-avoidance, but faithfulness and vision and living out his vocation. Can our vocation – as disciple and citizen – be any different? And if that may be the case – if our witness is one of the love of God and the justice of Jesus and the freedom of the Spirit – then God will be praised and this nation of ours will most surely be blessed. Amen.