Sermon
Mark 1:21-28
A Question of Authority
When I think of teachers I don’t think of people who are particularly powerful, at least not by the world’s standards. I think of Mrs. McCracken, my 5th grade teacher who helped me memorize the Gettysburg Address and then clapped for me when I successfully recited it in front of the class. I think of Mr. Piazzi, one of only a few male teacher role models, who actually made learning math fun. I think of Dr. Frank Frankfort, my favorite history professor in college, who let me help plan a history department trip to Europe that Linda and I went on.
I think of teachers like these and I’m amazed at the impact they’ve had on my life and the lives of so many other students. I’m amazed at the way good teachers continue to feed us long after we’ve left their presence. They were poorly paid, they spent long hours in school, they had to deal with some kids that didn’t want to learn, they won’t ever be famous, yet what power they had.
But I also had some lousy teachers too. You probably did as well. They also had power and often used it the wrong way. Teachers are powerful. They can change lives. They have the power to brutally wound or wonderfully heal young lives.
It is into this world of powerful teachers that our Gospel lesson calls us to enter. It is early in the ministry of Jesus in the gospel of Mark. Mark has no birth narrative, no childhood stories. Mark begins with John the Baptist preparing the way with his preaching, and with the baptism of Jesus, and then jumps immediately into Jesus’ calling the disciples and the beginning of his ministry. And that’s where we are today — the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. And how does it begin? With teaching. But not just any kind of teaching, it is teaching unlike that of the scribes, it is teaching with “authority.”
What’s interesting is that we don’t hear the content of Jesus’ teaching. It’s almost like Mark is saying, “the content isn’t the important part.” In the gospel of Mark what makes Jesus’ teaching authoritative is his person; his teaching is authoritative because of who he is — he is “the Holy One of God.”
It’s kind of like those good teachers in our past. We don’t remember the details of what they taught as much as we remember the power of their person.
The people automatically contrast Jesus’ teaching with what they know, with what they have experienced, with the teaching of the scribes. And, unlike the scribes, the people perceive Jesus to teach with “authority.” In other words, Jesus brings something extra to the table, Jesus’ person has something the scribes don’t. What is that something extra? Well, look at what happens next — Jesus heals a man with an unclean spirit. In the gospel of Mark, there’s no differentiation between Jesus’ teaching and his healing. It’s all part of the same package. So, when the people hear Jesus teach with authority and see Jesus heal with authority, they’re “astounded/amazed” because this is something new. This is not at all like what they’ve experienced with the scribes. This teacher is different.
Now, in today’s world, we often use the words “power” and “authority” interchangeably. But for our purposes, I want to make a distinction between the two. If we peer into the world in which Jesus lived, the scribes, along with Pharisees and the Sadducees, had the “power.” They were the interpreters of the law. They decided what and who was acceptable, and what and who was not acceptable. They were part of the “cultural power structure” of the day. Their “power” was simply a given. However, they did not necessarily have the support or confidence of the people, so they lacked “authority.” Dictators, for example, may be powerful because they have an army behind them, but they lack genuine “authority” in the hearts and minds of the people. The Apartheid government may have had the power in South Africa for many years, but a jailed man named Nelson Mandela had the authority.
It’s a similar situation for the scribes. The scribes are often presented in the gospels as oppressors of the people who lack a genuine understanding of the law and who possess no understanding of grace. In other words, they’re lousy teachers — but they’re still powerful because of their position in the society. They may be lousy teachers but they still get to call the shots.
I want to argue, on the other hand, that genuine “authority” comes not from one’s position in the society but from somewhere beyond one’s self. “Authority,” I want to argue, is embodied through a sense of call. Good teachers, for example, have authority, their teaching is authoritative, because of their God-given gifts, because God has called them to be teachers. Good teachers are teachers for the right reasons. They teach not for the money (what money?), not for the prestige (what prestige?); they teach because they’re called, because it’s who they are as compassionate, caring, gracious people. And it’s those God-given, God-blessed aspects of their person that gives their teaching authority.
So, to have “power” does not necessarily mean one has “authority.” Especially when we think in terms of “moral authority.” Just listen carefully to the questions being asked today and you can hear hints of this subtle difference between “power” and “authority.” People are not asking, for example, whether our government has the “power” to do certain things, of course it has the “power,” they’re asking does our government have the “authority.”
The opposite is true as well. Just because someone has “authority” does not necessarily mean they have power. Jesus had the authority, but in the end it was the scribes and the Pharisees that had the power to call for his crucifixion. “Authority,” in the best sense of the word, is persuasive, it doesn’t need nor does it depend on threats of force. People gravitate toward genuine authority because it is persuasive, because it speaks to the heart, because genuine authority is recognized as being different, it’s recognized as having come from above.
So, Jesus is different from the scribes, because Jesus is said to teach with “authority.” Jesus’ authority comes from above. He is rightly identified by the demon as, “the Holy One of God.” Jesus’ authority is a derived authority, it comes directly from God. And it’s this divine authority that we see unfold in the gospel of Mark. It’s this divine authority that is constantly being critiqued by those in power because they feel threatened by it; it is this divine authority that is constantly being challenged because they fear losing their power. And they’re right to feel threatened and afraid because it is Jesus’ divine authority that ultimately trumps all worldly powers.
We’re given a clue about just how all encompassing Jesus’ divine authority is when he heals the demon possessed man. Now we could get all hung up on the question of how to understand demon possession in the Bible. Talk of spirits and demons seems primitive and makes us uncomfortable today. It’s the stuff of bad B movies. However, I don’t think there’s any argument that evil is still a problem. Well known preacher Fred Craddock puts it this way, “No service is rendered simply by announcing that we no longer believe in demons. Although that is true, for most, not believing in demons has hardly eradicated evil in our world.”
So, for our purposes, we’re going to view this exorcism as an example of Jesus’ overcoming evil in the world. And this is what astounds the people: Jesus has the authority to overcome evil. Which is still astounding today if you think about it. What other power or authority is there that can overcome evil, eradicate it, make it go away? We put people in prison but that doesn’t make evil go away. Or, more close to home, how many of us struggle with the presence of evil in our own lives? Do we have the power or authority on our own to just make evil go away? Isn’t the Apostle Paul’s self-reflective question our daily question: “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)
There’s an old Native American story about a chief instructing some braves about the struggle within. “It is like two dogs fighting inside of us,” the chief told them. “There is one good dog who wants to do the right and the other dog wants to do the wrong. Sometimes the good dog seems stronger and is winning the fight. But sometimes the bad dog is stronger and wrong is winning the fight.”
“Who is going to win in the end?” a young brave asks.
“”The one you feed,” the chief answered.
The only food available to feed the good dog within us comes from above, it comes from outside of us, it’s the food of hope and grace whose singular nutritional authority comes from God. We do not have the power to overcome evil on our own. In fact, left to our own devices we will choose evil more often than good.
This is precisely why we begin every service of worship with a prayer of confession. Far from being the self-righteous hypocrites the world paints Christians out to be, we know all too well our own capacity for evil and our own need for forgiveness. And that’s why we come here.
It’s here that we are perpetually astounded by the food of hope and grace.
It’s here that we meet the “Holy One of God” who has the authority to call evil out of us, to forgive us, and to transform us.
It’s here that we are fed on the scriptures read, proclaimed, and taught.
It’s here that we are nourished by the sacraments
that make us one and transform us at the same time.
And it’s as we leave this place
and follow the light out into the world that we,
we of all people,
are given the authority to speak, and live,
and heal in ways that feed a hungry world.
Now that’s truly astounding.
Amen.
Copyright 2006 Jeffrey K. London. Used by permission.