Sermon delivered by Fr. Eric Kouns on the 3rd Sunday after the Epiphany, January 22, 2012, at St. Augustine’s Church, Columbus, OH.
Lectionary texts: Jonah 3.1-5, 10; Psalm 62.6-14; 1 Corinthians 7.29-31; Mark 1.14-20.
In the Name of God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
In His wisdom, God has given us four separate accounts of the earthly life and ministry of Jesus. They are similar enough that we know it’s the same story. But they are different enough, in terms of their perspectives and their emphases, so that the picture they paint of Jesus, in the aggregate, is far more detailed and nuanced than it would be if we had only one historical record.
The Gospel of Matthew is built around five sermons or “discourses” that Jesus preached over the course His ministry. Matthew has interwoven a record of Jesus’ travels and some of His miracles among those sermons, connecting them together so that the story moves along from beginning to end in a flowing, if more formal narrative.
Mark’s Gospel focuses more on what Jesus did than what He said, or preached, or taught. Mark, we believe, relied mainly on Peter for an eyewitness account of the life of Jesus… and his Gospel reflects the spontaneous and impulsive character for which Peter is well-known. Mark’s Gospel is far less formal than Matthew’s, but it gives a greater sense of immediacy and activity.
Luke, the only Gentile among the Gospel writers, emphasizes the human nature of Jesus, the son of Mary. And in the Gospel of John, the writer wants us to understand that the human Jesus was also divine, and that before He was born in Bethlehem, He was “with God and was God.”
Today’s Gospel reading is from the first chapter of Mark. The passage begins…
Now… Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” (Mark 1:14)
Isn’t it interesting that Mark, who records very little of the teaching of Jesus, preferring to concentrate on his actions—his miracles and works of power—nevertheless begins his account of Jesus’ ministry—after briefly mentioning the baptism and temptation—with a reference to something Jesus said.
According to Mark, these are the very first words spoken by Jesus in his public ministry. With these words, Jesus set the tone of his ministry for the next three years. And almost everybody now agrees that the kingdom of God was the single most important theme in all of Jesus’s preaching and teaching.
First century Jews were looking for a king. It had been 500 years since they had been an independent nation with their own king. The Hebrew scriptures, what we call the Old Testament, promised that one day a king would come, a descendant of King David, and he would restore Israel to the position among the nations which she had enjoyed before she was conquered and subjugated first by Babylonia, then by Medo-Persia, then Greece, and now… at the time Jesus lived and the Gospels were written… by Rome.
Since the Jews viewed themselves as the people of God and their king as the representative of God, the restoration of the kingdom of Israel was, to their way of thinking, the establishment of the kingdom of God on earth. And they were ready for it. They were tired of being trodden down and walked over. They were ready for somebody anointed by God (and that is precisely what the word “messiah” means) to come on the scene and overthrow their oppressors so that their king could be seated on his throne once again. They were ready for some pomp and pageantry. They were tired of waiting.
Onto this stage steps Jesus. Claiming to be the king which the prophets had promised. Having the temerity, the audacity, to announce that the kingdom had come, that he was, in fact, the king and, on top of everything, to dare to call this announcement “good news.”
And it was good news, because Jesus was talking, not about a political power, but about a personal relationship with God. His kingdom, He would later say, is “not of this world.”
When he spoke about the kingdom of God, he meant the control and authority which God wants to exercise within and among all of those who surrender their lives to Him.
To Jews who were looking for a Messiah who would lead a revolution to overthrow Rome and a King who would exercise political power from the Throne of David, what Jesus was saying was anything but “good news.” It was crazy talk, and they would have none of it.
Jesus knew this. That’s why, according to the account by Mark in today’s Gospel reading…
(He) came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” (Mark 1:14)
Now I would almost lay odds that when you hear the word “repent” you think of something we do in relation to our sins. “Repentance,” for most people, means to acknowledge our sins, express guilt or remorse because of them, and then vow never to act in that way again. And that is an appropriate attitude toward sin. But it’s not what the word “repent” means. Especially not in this context. There is nothing about sins in today’s text. So it must mean something else.
And it does. Our English word “repent” is based on a Latin root… the same root from which we get the word “pensive” (which means “to be thoughtful”)… with a pre-fix (“re-”) which means “again”… as in re-open, re-visit, re-vive. So, the word “repent” literally means “to think again.”
That meaning is even clearer in the original Greek text where the word metanoia means, first and foremost, to “change your mind.”
In essence, Jesus was saying to His hearers, “You’ve got to change your mind about the kingdom of God; you’re looking at it all wrong. The kingdom has drawn near, but you can’t see it because you’re looking the wrong way. You’re expecting the wrong thing.”
The Jewish religious community of Jesus’ day thought they had a handle on the coming kingdom. They were quite sure that, when it at last arrived, they would certainly recognize it, not least of all because it would be led by… well, a king!
And Jesus said, in effect, “You’re right. The coming kingdom will have a king… and you’re looking at him!” And the Jewish religious leaders didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. They knew what a king looked like, and a Galilean carpenter’s son with a retinue of fishermen, tax collectors, and other ragamuffins was surely not it.
In the little book titled Mission in Christ’s Way, Lesslie Newbigin (d. 1996), long-time missionary to India, wrote about the true meaning of “repentance”:
I remember once visiting a village in the Madras diocese. There was no road into the village; you reached it by crossing a river, and you could do this either on the south side of the village or on the north. The congregation had decided that I would come by the southern route, and they had prepared a welcome such as only an Indian village can prepare. There was music and fireworks and garlands and fruit and silumbum (the performance of a South Indian martial art done on ceremonial occasions)—everything you can imagine. Unfortunately I entered the village at the north end and found only a few goats and chickens. Crisis! I had to disappear while word was sent to the assembled congregation, and the entire village did a sort of U-turn so as to face the other way. Then I duly reappeared.
This is what metanoia means… You have to be, as Paul says, transformed by the renewing of your mind. You have to go through a mental revolution; otherwise the kingdom of God will be totally hidden from you.” (pp. 2-3)
The kingdom of God, as Jesus introduced it, was not accompanied by pomp and pageantry. Nobody played God Save the King when he entered a room. Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor, you may recall, didn’t feel threatened at all when the Jewish religious establishment accused Jesus of claiming to be a king.
Not even his own disciples knew exactly what he meant when used “king & kingdom” language. They wanted to believe him when he told them he was the promised king, but he made it so difficult. One day he would talk about establishing the kingdom and the next day he would talk about going to Jerusalem where he expected to be put to death. They were confused and frustrated. They just wanted to sit him down and ask him, in no uncertain terms, “Which is it, Jesus? Did you come to set up a kingdom or did you come to die on a cross?” And if they had done that, you know what his answer would have been? It would have been, “Yes.”
But in order to understand that, they had to “change their minds” about what they expected a kingdom to be and to look like. They had to “repent and believe the good news.”
We are in the season known as Epiphany(tide). The word “epiphany” means “a sudden intuitive realization.” During this season we reflect on the visit of the Magi to Bethlehem where, when they saw the Christ child, they had a “sudden intuitive realization” that this was Israel’s king.
During Epiphany we also recall the baptism of Jesus, that moment where, as He stood in the Jordan, the heavens opened, the Spirit of God descended on Jesus like a dove, and the voice of the Father called to Him… “You are my beloved Son; with You I am well-pleased.”
Nearly thirty-two years ago, while I was a student at Wheaton Grad School near Chicago, I had an “epiphany”… a moment of “sudden intuitive realization.” Owing to a variety of influences that converged on my life in 1980, I became convinced that the most important theme in the Bible was not grace, love, mercy, forgiveness, or salvation. It was the Kingdom of God.
Over the next three decades I explored and examined that theme and that conclusion from every conceivable angle. I am even more convinced today than I was then. The most important theme in all of Scripture is the Kingdom of God. Everything else, as vital and essential as it may seem, finds its place somewhere in relation to the central theme, the unifying motif, of the Kingdom.
I read the Old Testament, with its creation narrative and its historical record of the people of Israel, through the lens of the Kingdom. I interpret and apply the teachings of Jesus and the Apostles from the perspective of the Kingdom. My view of life after death and of the ultimate future purpose of God for our human bodies and for the earth is shaped by my belief that those ideas can be understood only in relation to the Kingdom of God. Salvation is the way of entry into the Kingdom. Love is the controlling principle for life in the Kingdom. Even my political views are shaped and influenced by Jesus’ words in the Lord’s prayer: “Father,… may Your Kingdom come, may Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
Nowhere does this principle have more practical application than in relation to the church. I still believe that the best description of the purpose for the church in the world is that put forward by George Eldon Ladd more than a generation ago: the church is the agent of the Kingdom of God.
The church is where the distinctives of the Kingdom are supposed to be cultivated, where we learn how to live by Kingdom values in the face of the pressure—which comes from the world, the flesh, and the devil—to succumb to the influence of the prevailing culture. The place where we encourage one another to hang tough, be consistent, don’t surrender, don’t lose heart.
The church is the place where we embrace and comfort and bandage and console those who are battered and bruised from their confrontation with a hostile culture—a culture under the control of a power opposed to God and intent on frustrating every attempt on the part of the citizens of the Kingdom to live according to the priorities and directives of the King.
The church is supposed to be a living example of the gospel of the Kingdom. As Lesslie Newbigin has written:
The church is not an end in itself. “Church growth” is not an end in itself. The church is only true to its calling when it is a sign, an instrument, and a foretaste of the Kingdom.
The New Testament does not contain a constitution or a set of bylaws for the way Kingdom citizens should live, but it is not difficult to surmise such a pattern for behavior. Kingdom citizens should emulate the character of the King. The cultivation and development of Christlike character traits is called spiritual formation, and it is the most important work in which the church can be involved. It includes public worship, personal devotion, and self-sacrificing service. And it takes a church, the community of the King, to be the context, the fertile environment, in which spiritual formation can flourish.
The truth about the Kingdom of God can resolve all manner of church conflicts—simply follow the course that most consistently models the values of the Kingdom and the character of the King. It can provide guidance in political issues and matters of public policy—support the candidates and policies which are most likely to produce a society which reflects Kingdom values.
It was the truth about the comprehensive nature of the Kingdom of God which ultimately drew me to the liturgical tradition which I now embrace in Anglicanism. Many of my friends in the free church tradition, where I lived and worked for thirty-five years, feel uncomfortable with what they perceive as “pomp and pageantry” in some forms and expressions of liturgical worship. For me, those outward expressions—the bowing, the kneeling, the incense, the kissing of the altar—all remind me that I serve the King of Kings, and one day I will have opportunity to acknowledge His very presence in similar acts of honor and worship. Until then, they bring a little of heaven to earth, and instill a level of reverence in public worship which never fails to lift my spirit and transport me spiritually into the presence of the King.
Chris Seay (“see”) is a church planter, pastor, and author of a number of books, including one called The Gospel According to Jesus. I conclude this morning with a short story from that book.
Seay writes…
One week I was preaching in our church about the kingdom that is coming, and on his way out a young man grabbed me. He said, “Pastor, that kingdom is already here. I used to come to this very neighborhood every Sunday. I came down here to a bar called Emo’s, and I’d start every Sunday night with a drop of ecstasy on my tongue and wash it down with Bacardi’s. That’s what I did, Sunday after Sunday.
Now I come to this worship service instead, and I finish the service with the body of Christ on my tongue, and I wash it down with the blood of Christ. This is the kingdom of God.”
Chris Seay adds…
This man is experiencing the Kingdom. He lives in its presence. We may not recognize it (even as the Jewish religious leaders of Jesus’ day did not); we may not often see it, but it is right here. We need to get past the mundane existence of religion and get a taste of the Kingdom.”
In the Name of God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
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