When You Come Home

Message for the Second Sunday after Pentecost, Year B (6/6/2021)

Mark 3:20-35

“Then [Jesus] went home.”

That’s how our Gospel from Mark today begins. We’re only in the third chapter, and Jesus has already whipped up a whirlwind of controversy, calling a motley crew of disciples, speaking up in the synagogues, consorting with sinners, healing and casting out demons, and reinterpreting religious rules according to new criteria. And in the process, he’s won popularity with a crowd of seekers while provoking hostility from religious and political authorities.

“Then [Jesus] went home.”

After an eventful launch to his ministry, Jesus makes his way back to the place of his origins. What do you suppose he hopes to find when he arrives there? It wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect some relief, would it? – maybe a long visit with old friends, a home-cooked meal, a little respite in the comfort of familiar surroundings. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect a return to some sort of normalcy.

Of course, that’s not what Jesus experiences when he comes home. Instead, the crowd follows him there, packing into the house where he and the disciples are staying so tightly that they can’t even eat.

And as it turns out, his family and friends don’t provide the kind of support he might have liked to have. They’ve heard rumors that he’s lost his mind, so they go to find him, not to welcome him home with joy, but to “restrain” him, to pull him aside and snap him out of it. These are his people, but having misinterpreted his ministry, they’ve misplaced their concern.

Neither is home a place where Jesus can escape the antagonism of the authorities. There’s no length to which the establishment won’t go to quell a threat, so scribes travel all the way from Jerusalem to vilify him: “He has Beelzebul,” they allege, “and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.” What better way to discredit a movement for change than for good religious people to call it evil?

“Then [Jesus] went home.”

But, his home will never be the same again. Now that his ministry is underway, now that the Spirit of God has anointed him to bring good news to the poor and let the oppressed go free,[1] now that he has entered into the struggle with evil, tying it up and plundering its house, Jesus will never get back to the way things were before. But, neither does he intend to. As painful as it may be, Jesus’ response to his family of origin makes clear that things have changed: “Who are my mother and my brothers?” he replies to their request to see him. “Here [in this house] are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.” Jesus redefines kinship according to God’s purposes, making a break with the past and setting his face to the future. From now on, his home will be the reign of God, and his family will be all those who enter it with him.

This month, we’re coming home, too, returning to the sanctuary for worship for the first time in over fourteen months. It’s been an eventful year, that’s for certain. We’ve negotiated territory that none of us has seen before, feeling at times confused and worried, at times frustrated and weary, and perhaps at times eager and determined, too.

Now that you’re finally coming home, what do you hope to find when you arrive here? It wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect some relief, would it? – to look in the eyes of fellow saints and smile behind your mask, to sing a beloved hymn or two, to rest in the comfort of familiar surroundings. And, I hope you get that relief. What’s more, I hope you get a renewed sense of your belonging here, your place in the family of Christ. Whether strangers or acquaintances, neighbors or friends, we’re held together by our common dignity and our common needs – the need for connection and a shared story, the need for grace and bread for the journey. I hope you get all of that here in this house.

But, I also hope that coming home is not just a return to normalcy. I hope that this home will never be the same again. Despite the impulse to slide into old patterns, despite our fear of change, can we get a sense of how God is making us new in this season of our life together? We’re already determined to speak up on behalf of God’s reign in our time, taking up the hard work of anti-racism, for instance, and celebrating the presence and gifts of LGBTQ2SIA kindred. What will those commitments require of us now and into the future?

As in every season, our discernment process won’t be crystal clear, and it won’t be easy. To quote Kaitlin Curtice, “Part of working toward a better world, and working toward a better church, is recognizing that if we tether ourselves to the messy reality of Jesus, a man who lived in the middle of thousands of tensions every day, we must be honest about our own hard and soft places…. [The call to discipleship] is an invitation to enter into the work of truth-telling, of keeping watch, of being people who will ask hard questions and hold grace in the difficult spaces.”[2]

I pray that you rediscover your home here, friends, or discover it for the first time. And, I pray that God grant you courage to ask hard questions about our life together and grace as we seek to answer them together: Who belongs to this family? Whom have we neglected? What does love demand of us now? What will love demand of us in the time to come? We live in the middle of many tensions; the promise is that Christ is among us to call us kindred and accompany us wherever the Spirit leads.

[1] Luke 4:18-19.

[2] Native: Identity, Belonging, and Rediscovering God, 134.