6.10.12--Sermon on Mark 3:20-35

Can you imagine the scene? Jesus and his disciples steal into a house for a moment, maybe hoping to find respite from the crowd, maybe just hoping to catch a quick bite to eat in the midst of healing and teaching. Maybe, like the Texas weather I just left, it was just too hot out in the sun, and they were seeking the shade in shelter. Whatever the reason, they were not allowed even a moment’s break from the onslaught of the masses. Scripture attests that a crowd gathered again around him such that it was impossible for him and his followers to even eat.

That’s definitely standing room only.

But Jesus does not get angry or annoyed at the crowd. He doesn’t chase them out or demand silence and solitude. Instead, he shows the same compassion to them that would later move him to feed over five thousand and then even later over four thousand. Jesus looks out on the crowd, on the people yearning to see him and to hear a word from him, and is moved by love, for they are like sheep without a shepherd. Jesus welcomes everyone in the crowd, those there to quench their sincere curiosity, those there out of awe, and those there to question and confront him.

Not everyone in the crowd is a stranger, though. Mark shares that Jesus’ mother and brothers were there, trying to get to him to take him home before the crowd revolts against him. Mark also shares that a number of the legal experts from Jerusalem—the Pharisees and scribes that Jesus will butt heads with throughout his entire ministry—have descended into the madness of the masses so that they might check out this teacher and healer.

The former are there to save; the latter are there to condemn. 

Over and over, the legal experts charge, “He’s possessed by Beelzebub! He throws out demons with the authority of the ruler of demons!” People hear them and start to whisper and wonder.

Are they right? Is he evil?

According to the great fountain of knowledge that is Wikipedia, Beelzebub, or, as it is properly pronounced, Ba’al Zebub, is a deity that was worshiped in some Philistine cities. It was most likely another name for the much more popular Ba’al, who is the pagan god referred to a number of times throughout the Old Testament. “Ba’al”, which comes from the ancient language of Ugarit, means “lord” and was used to describe their god. Many scholars believe that Ba’al Zebub was originally a play on the name Ba’al Zebul and was developed by the Israelites to mock this false god. Ba’al Zebul literally means “Lord of the High Place” or “Lord of the High Things”. Ba’al Zebub literally means “Lord of the Flies”. Ba’al, in this sense, was the god who attracted the flies. Think about it for a second. What attracts flies more than almost anything else?

Dung.

Instead of elevated to the highest place, this play on words relegates Ba’al to the lowest one. Ba’al is the excrement that attracts the flies. Over the years, Ba’al, along with this play on his name, twisted and evolved to encompass not only the false god, but Satan. Ba’al, Lucifer, Satan, and the Devil are all the same. So when Jesus is accused of being possessed by Beelzebub, he is not simply possessed by a demon or a false god, but by Satan himself.

Jesus hears the crowds’ murmurings, hears the legal experts’ accusations. He responded to this charge the same way he responded to pretty much everything: he told them a parable.

“How can Satan throw Satan out? A kingdom involved in civil war will collapse. And a house torn apart by divisions will collapse. If Satan rebels against himself and is divided, then he can’t endure. He’s done for. No one gets into the house of a strong person and steals anything without first tying up the strong person. Only then can the house be burglarized. I assure you that human beings will be forgiven for everything, for all sin and insults of every kind. But whoever insults the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven. That person is guilty of a sin with consequences forever.”

Pretty good argument, right? How can anything stand against something else if it is dealing with internal strife? Last month, Jess and I watched the Avengers. Loki, the Norse god known as the trickster, uses this very logic to try to defeat his enemies. Instead of fighting against him to save earth, the Avengers are tricked into fighting amongst each other. Captain America wrestles with Iron Man. The Hulk attacks Thor. And while all of this is happening, Loki stays safely unscathed.

I won’t tell you how that panned out for Loki in the end, but since he’s the bad guy in the story, I’m sure you can figure it out.

But the truth is there. A house divided cannot stand. Jesus shows them through sheer logic that their accusations are not only false, but poorly thought out. Not only that, he throws a pretty scary truth their way. You see, every sin and insult will be forgiven, Jesus says, except those that are aimed at the Holy Spirit.

In this little jab, Jesus does two things: He shares with them the true source of his power—the Holy Spirit, God Godself—and he warns them against calling the Spirit names, such as Beelzebub, the dung lord who attracts the flies. This is maybe not the best course of action—insulting the Source of all life and power. Jesus states that the consequences of such a sin will last forever.

That’s rough. But it does its job. After this, the legal experts say no more, and we do not hear any more of their accusations and grumblings for four chapters of Mark, where Jesus seemingly is able to go from place to place and heal, teach, and preach unscathed of the Pharisees’ scorching remarks.

And while all of this is going on—while Jesus is spending all of this time rebuking the legal experts—his mother and brothers are outside of the house, on the edge of the crowd, calling for him, trying to reach him to bring him home and save him from the wrath of the very people he just rebuked. Finally, word gets in to him that his family is there, trying to speak to him.

Now, I love my family. If I were in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, and I was going up against a group of people who seemed to be working avidly against me, I think that I would jump at the chance to see my mom and brothers if I heard they were in the crowd. They would be a source of support and encouragement for me in the midst of the sea of doubters and grumblers. But Jesus doesn’t ask people to clear a space for them. He doesn’t go out to them or meet them halfway. He doesn’t even make any move to greet them.

Instead, he asks two very interesting questions. “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?”

That sounds harsh, right? That sounds calloused. I hope that when our baby is grown up and we go to visit him or her that we receive a warmer welcome than that. But Jesus is trying to make a point here, a very specific, very important point. You see, his family was there—not as a source of support for Jesus—but to take him from that place, to control him as our Scripture says. They were worried that Jesus was saying things that were too radical, engaging in actions that were too oppositional. They came to save him from himself, and to save him from the consequences of his teachings and his convictions.

Do you see the irony here? Jesus’ family and Jesus’ critics came to the house because of different convictions. As we said earlier, one group came to save him, and the other came to condemn him. Yet both came to stop him, to shut him up, and quell his craziness.

Neither the legal experts nor Jesus’ own family understood what he was doing, nor were either willing to let him see his ministry to completion.

What Jesus was doing was scary. What Jesus was doing stirred up the masses. They were afraid of what he was doing and afraid of what the consequences would be.

But Jesus does not let either of these groups—not the legal experts or his own family—stop him from his goal. He turned both of their efforts into teaching moments and opportunities to share a truth of the Kingdom with those that were gathered.

I wonder how many times we find ourselves too afraid of what Jesus is doing around us, and how often we try to keep Jesus from speaking to us and those around us for fear of the consequences. How often do we—for good or bad reasons—try to quell the Christ and keep his will from being realized around us?

How often are we not willing to hear the call to engage in justice in the world around us because it would mean consorting with the “wrong sort of crowd”? How often do we stifle the voice of Jesus in our midst because he is telling us to speak a prophetic word to a friend or family member, a word that might be hard to hear? How often do we turn away from a chance to do ministry with Christ because it will mean us stepping out of our comfort zones and doing something that scares us?

I love Chick Fila. It’s my favorite fast food place. One day, when I went with Jess into Philly, I decided that I was going to find a Chick Fila to hang out in, drink good sweet tea, and read a book while I waited for Jess to finish class. As I was waiting in line to order my large sweet tea with easy ice, I couldn’t help but overhear the couple in front of me discuss what they were going to order. They were counting their coins, and they had just enough money to split a regular Chick Fila sandwich if they each got waters to drink and could deal without any sides. I remember thinking that I had plenty of money to help them out and buy a meal or two for them, but honestly, I was tired, just wanted to sit by myself, and read my book. I didn’t want to get involved, because then I’d have to talk to them and step out of my comfort zone. I was in a place I didn’t know, surrounded by people I had never met.

So I didn’t do anything, and they bought their sandwich, and I bought my sweet tea, and I never saw them again.

That was months ago, and yet I still think about that evening, and think about how it would have cost me almost nothing to do something really nice for them. Instead, I didn’t. I let an opportunity to share God’s love pass me by.

I stifled Jesus within me that day, for fear of what the consequences would be. I quelled the voice of Christ that evening, because I was too wrapped up in my own stuff to care about anyone else’s. It was a small thing, but it was an opportunity that I refused to take, a call I refused to answer. And that’s not all right.

Friends, we all need to learn the lesson that Christ teaches in this passage: No conviction is worth stopping the saving work of Christ. No fear—whether for ourselves or for others—is bigger than the need to share the Good News. Christ might call us out of our comfort zones, Christ might say things to us that make us shift in our shoes as we ponder the consequences, but the work of Christ was and is always something worth pursuing and celebrating.

For we know that Jesus is not possessed by or sent by the dung lord that attracts all the flies, but is instead God the Son, sent by the Father and empowered by the Spirit. We know that we are able to stand beside Christ as his brothers and sisters, and we are able to join him in the work of spreading the love of God throughout the world.

And I firmly believe that this is Good News for us today. Amen.