Sunday, July 14, 2024
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© The Rev. Dr. James P. Campbell
Mark 6:14-29
King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”
For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer. ”Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.
Jesus said: “… truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.”
To some folks, those words are a metaphor. To others, they are hyperbole. But to a ten-year-old little boy named Jimmy Campbell, it just sounded like a promise. One Sunday, I heard my father preach about this passage and so I took it at face value because it sounded like a straight proposition to me. And I had faith – more than a mustard seed. So, I decided to put my faith to the test.
Now there are no mountains on the great plains of northern Indiana. So, I improvised. On one side of our house, there were these large stones. And so, I chose one of those, and placed my hands upon it and sincerely asked God to move it to the back porch before I woke up the next morning. And then I went to bed, firm in my conviction that if God could cast an entire mountain into the sea, then moving a rock to my back door was, well, child’s play.
The next morning, I bounded out of bed like it was Christmas Day. Down the hall I ran, through the kitchen and out the back door. And there before me… was an empty back porch. The stone had not moved. My faith had not done the trick. And I was crushed.
Well, a lot has happened in all these intervening years which has continued to challenge my notion of a God who does magic tricks. It’s not that I have lost my belief in the ‘wonder-working’ power of the Almighty, but it does mean that I have had to rethink what it means to have faith and to be faithful, in a chaotic and violent world, with no thought of an immediate reward; with no stones left at my back door.
Today’s Gospel lesson is a difficult one, full of political violence and unrest. John the Baptist, the charismatic preacher who lived out in the wilderness, and wore animal skins and ate wild honey and locusts, had confronted King Herod, tetrarch of Galilee and puppet of Rome, with Herod’s immorality. So, what had the king done? He took his brother’s wife for his own… because he wanted to, because he could, because he was king. But John was having none of it. And so, he confronted the king and told him he had to repent and make it right. But Herodias, his new wife, liked her living conditions. It was good being queen. And John’s insolence infuriated her. She demanded that Herod have John the Baptist executed. But Herod had a soft spot in his heart for the prophet and a superstitious fear of his powers. So, instead of execution, he had John thrown into prison – out of sight, out of mind.
Soon thereafter, King Herod threw a lavish banquet to celebrate his birthday. The ‘icing on the cake’ was the seductive dance of the daughter of Herodias, whom tradition calls Salome. Whether there were seven veils or not, Herod was greatly pleased by his niece and step daughter, and foolishly promised her anything she wanted, including half of his Kingdom. So, Salome, a teenager, went to ask her mother for advice: “What should I ask for?” And her mother, still nursing a grudge, replied without hesitation: “Ask for the head of John the Baptist.”
Salome did as she was told. And Herod, trapped by his lust and bound by his hubris, agreed to the demand. The head of the prophet was placed on a platter and presented like a final course at the birthday dinner. And Mark sadly reports that, “When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body and laid it in a tomb.”
This story has made some great movies, plays, musicals, and operas. But it wasn’t nearly so entertaining for John the Baptist, and all those who loved him and believed in his message that the Kingdom of God was about to break forth. Meanwhile, Herod and family continued to throw lavish parties and live in luxury and abuse the privileges of his office. It’s a story as old as time itself. The wicked celebrate. The righteous suffer. It was so in John’s day. It is so in 2024. And sometimes I long for the immediate intervention of a good and just God. I want to see, with my own eyes, the mountains of injustice cast into the sea. But I go to bed and awake, day after day, year after year with them still firmly in view.
So, what are we to do with that inconvenient truth? What is the source of our hope when the forces of evil seem indestructible? Because there is hope, you know. Our faith is built upon hope. You just have to have the eyes to see it.
My mentor in ministry, the late Rev. George Bailey, used to have a bust of the patriarch Abraham in his office. It was a striking image for many reasons, but mostly the artist had perfectly captured that ‘far off’ look in Abraham’s eyes. You will remember that God had called Abraham to go to a place he had never been before and there to found a mighty nation. And so, with only this mysterious Voice and some vague, nagging promise to guide him, Abraham and Sarah set out on an arduous journey to an unknown place that had been promised to them. Thus, the far-off look in his eyes.
Likewise, John the Baptist was called by the same Voice, to go into the Wilderness and to preach that the Reign of God was surely coming. But he would never see it. A lustful old fool and an evil queen and an executioner’s sword made sure of that.
In our culture of instant gratification; when TicTok has shortened our attention spans to about 30 seconds; when political promises of instant answers are a dime a dozen, we want a faith to match. We want instant answers and dramatic results or we quickly lose interest.
But I have learned, again and again, that the work of God is most clearly seen in the long view of human history. And so, I stand in this pulpit week after week and proclaim that the Reign of God is surely coming, even though I know my eyes will likely never see it.
Shortly before his murder, Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke about this “long view” of God’s purposes in the world. And here I quote Dr. King: “...I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. So I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man.”
Friends, the road to the Promised Land is long and bumpy and full of danger. But the promise of God is unstoppable. It was dreamed by our Father Abraham and our Mother Sarah. It was proclaimed by John the Baptist. It was nurtured in and by Mother Mary. And it was fully revealed in our Lord Jesus Christ, who went about doing good to all.
And in every generation since Jesus, the faithful are called by the same Voice to dream the dream, and make the powerful care, and speak God’s truth to the world’s vain power. We are called to carry the promise forward, to work with vigor, to sacrifice until it actually costs us something. We are called to pass along the hope of the promise to those who will follow, and to all those who will also dream the dream of God’s Reign on this earth just as it is in heaven.
No, that stone did not magically appear on my back porch all those years ago. But the perspective of time, and the faithful witnesses of wonderful people like you, have taught me enough about the slow but steady work of God to still believe that one day the mountains of oppression will be cast into the sea of forgetfulness by a God whose word is faithful and true.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© The Rev. Dr. James P. Campbell
Mark 6:14-29
King Herod heard of it, for Jesus’ name had become known. Some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead; and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” But others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”
For Herod himself had sent men who arrested John, bound him, and put him in prison on account of Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife, because Herod had married her. For John had been telling Herod, “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife.” And Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him. But she could not, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him. But an opportunity came when Herod on his birthday gave a banquet for his courtiers and officers and for the leaders of Galilee. When his daughter Herodias came in and danced, she pleased Herod and his guests; and the king said to the girl, “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” And he solemnly swore to her, “Whatever you ask me, I will give you, even half of my kingdom.” She went out and said to her mother, “What should I ask for?” She replied, “The head of John the baptizer. ”Immediately she rushed back to the king and requested, “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.” The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her. Immediately the king sent a soldier of the guard with orders to bring John’s head. He went and beheaded him in the prison, brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the girl. Then the girl gave it to her mother. When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.
Jesus said: “… truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move.”
To some folks, those words are a metaphor. To others, they are hyperbole. But to a ten-year-old little boy named Jimmy Campbell, it just sounded like a promise. One Sunday, I heard my father preach about this passage and so I took it at face value because it sounded like a straight proposition to me. And I had faith – more than a mustard seed. So, I decided to put my faith to the test.
Now there are no mountains on the great plains of northern Indiana. So, I improvised. On one side of our house, there were these large stones. And so, I chose one of those, and placed my hands upon it and sincerely asked God to move it to the back porch before I woke up the next morning. And then I went to bed, firm in my conviction that if God could cast an entire mountain into the sea, then moving a rock to my back door was, well, child’s play.
The next morning, I bounded out of bed like it was Christmas Day. Down the hall I ran, through the kitchen and out the back door. And there before me… was an empty back porch. The stone had not moved. My faith had not done the trick. And I was crushed.
Well, a lot has happened in all these intervening years which has continued to challenge my notion of a God who does magic tricks. It’s not that I have lost my belief in the ‘wonder-working’ power of the Almighty, but it does mean that I have had to rethink what it means to have faith and to be faithful, in a chaotic and violent world, with no thought of an immediate reward; with no stones left at my back door.
Today’s Gospel lesson is a difficult one, full of political violence and unrest. John the Baptist, the charismatic preacher who lived out in the wilderness, and wore animal skins and ate wild honey and locusts, had confronted King Herod, tetrarch of Galilee and puppet of Rome, with Herod’s immorality. So, what had the king done? He took his brother’s wife for his own… because he wanted to, because he could, because he was king. But John was having none of it. And so, he confronted the king and told him he had to repent and make it right. But Herodias, his new wife, liked her living conditions. It was good being queen. And John’s insolence infuriated her. She demanded that Herod have John the Baptist executed. But Herod had a soft spot in his heart for the prophet and a superstitious fear of his powers. So, instead of execution, he had John thrown into prison – out of sight, out of mind.
Soon thereafter, King Herod threw a lavish banquet to celebrate his birthday. The ‘icing on the cake’ was the seductive dance of the daughter of Herodias, whom tradition calls Salome. Whether there were seven veils or not, Herod was greatly pleased by his niece and step daughter, and foolishly promised her anything she wanted, including half of his Kingdom. So, Salome, a teenager, went to ask her mother for advice: “What should I ask for?” And her mother, still nursing a grudge, replied without hesitation: “Ask for the head of John the Baptist.”
Salome did as she was told. And Herod, trapped by his lust and bound by his hubris, agreed to the demand. The head of the prophet was placed on a platter and presented like a final course at the birthday dinner. And Mark sadly reports that, “When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body and laid it in a tomb.”
This story has made some great movies, plays, musicals, and operas. But it wasn’t nearly so entertaining for John the Baptist, and all those who loved him and believed in his message that the Kingdom of God was about to break forth. Meanwhile, Herod and family continued to throw lavish parties and live in luxury and abuse the privileges of his office. It’s a story as old as time itself. The wicked celebrate. The righteous suffer. It was so in John’s day. It is so in 2024. And sometimes I long for the immediate intervention of a good and just God. I want to see, with my own eyes, the mountains of injustice cast into the sea. But I go to bed and awake, day after day, year after year with them still firmly in view.
So, what are we to do with that inconvenient truth? What is the source of our hope when the forces of evil seem indestructible? Because there is hope, you know. Our faith is built upon hope. You just have to have the eyes to see it.
My mentor in ministry, the late Rev. George Bailey, used to have a bust of the patriarch Abraham in his office. It was a striking image for many reasons, but mostly the artist had perfectly captured that ‘far off’ look in Abraham’s eyes. You will remember that God had called Abraham to go to a place he had never been before and there to found a mighty nation. And so, with only this mysterious Voice and some vague, nagging promise to guide him, Abraham and Sarah set out on an arduous journey to an unknown place that had been promised to them. Thus, the far-off look in his eyes.
Likewise, John the Baptist was called by the same Voice, to go into the Wilderness and to preach that the Reign of God was surely coming. But he would never see it. A lustful old fool and an evil queen and an executioner’s sword made sure of that.
In our culture of instant gratification; when TicTok has shortened our attention spans to about 30 seconds; when political promises of instant answers are a dime a dozen, we want a faith to match. We want instant answers and dramatic results or we quickly lose interest.
But I have learned, again and again, that the work of God is most clearly seen in the long view of human history. And so, I stand in this pulpit week after week and proclaim that the Reign of God is surely coming, even though I know my eyes will likely never see it.
Shortly before his murder, Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke about this “long view” of God’s purposes in the world. And here I quote Dr. King: “...I've looked over, and I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you, but I want you to know tonight that we as a people will get to the promised land. So I'm happy tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man.”
Friends, the road to the Promised Land is long and bumpy and full of danger. But the promise of God is unstoppable. It was dreamed by our Father Abraham and our Mother Sarah. It was proclaimed by John the Baptist. It was nurtured in and by Mother Mary. And it was fully revealed in our Lord Jesus Christ, who went about doing good to all.
And in every generation since Jesus, the faithful are called by the same Voice to dream the dream, and make the powerful care, and speak God’s truth to the world’s vain power. We are called to carry the promise forward, to work with vigor, to sacrifice until it actually costs us something. We are called to pass along the hope of the promise to those who will follow, and to all those who will also dream the dream of God’s Reign on this earth just as it is in heaven.
No, that stone did not magically appear on my back porch all those years ago. But the perspective of time, and the faithful witnesses of wonderful people like you, have taught me enough about the slow but steady work of God to still believe that one day the mountains of oppression will be cast into the sea of forgetfulness by a God whose word is faithful and true.
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