Everybody loves a good story. We begin our earliest understandings through stories. The Tortoise and the Hare, The Three Little Pigs, Jack and the Beanstalk, The Ugly Duckling. We learned lessons in behavior from stories like The Little Boy Who Cried ‘Wolf ’ and Goldilocks and the Three Bears.
The tradition of storytelling is as old as humanity itself. Ancient cultures have stories to tell younger generations about their heritage. Go to the earliest chapters of our scripture and see how our own cultural forebears answered the questions of their children and grandchildren.
“Grandpa, where did we come from?’
“Ah, my child, let me tell you a story.” And what followed was the account of a man (Adam, which in Hebrew means simply man), a deep sleep, a disappearing rib and voilá, woman. Then there was the question about why there was so much wrong in this world and we hear the story about a snake in a garden. Or the question about the beautiful rainbow that appears after a storm followed by the story of Noah and the Ark — questions and answers — stories.
Jesus knew the power of stories. Much of his preaching involved parables, known better to us as stories. They taught, they challenged, they inspired, they enlightened. We learn a lot from stories.
So now we encounter a new story. At least it is new to those who were just beginning to codify what they and their friends had come to know about this incredible figure known as Jesus of Nazareth. We find it in the gospel of Mark.
As a matter of information, we really do not who Mark is. It could have been one of several folks mentioned in the New Testament — three times in the book of Acts we hear of someone called John whose surname is Mark who is associated with Peter, Paul, and Barnabas. Paul mentions a Mark as a fellow-worker. The fact that we have this material at all comes from a second-century church father named Papias who wrote,
“Mark, having become the interpreter/translator of Peter, wrote down accurately, however, not in order, all that he recalled of what was either said or done by the Lord. For he had neither heard nor followed the Lord; but later (as I said) he followed Peter, who used to adapt his instructions to the needs [of the moment or of the audience], but not with a view of making an orderly account of the Lord’s sayings.”1
So, we ultimately have no idea who wrote this gospel. Nor, for that matter, do we know for certain who actually wrote any of the gospels. We have the names listed at the top of the page, but not much else. If that bothers you and upsets your understanding of the authority and inspiration of scripture, it did me too — back in the day when I was first learning about all this, I was horrified. No longer. So, let me help you with that. Please do not think of inspired scripture as text that has somehow or other been divinely dictated, even to the extent of the names at the top of the page. Think of it as material that is so highly thought of for information, for instruction, for guidance for the faithful that the church made sure it was kept alive and disseminated through lo these many centuries. That is inspiration.
Enough about that. Scholars do tell us that Mark’s gospel is the earliest of the four that we find in the New Testament. There were other writings circulating in the early church before Mark appeared
- instructive materials concerning Christian behavior, and advice about dealing with those in the surrounding cultures — but none of them were designed to provide an overview of the life and ministry of Jesus. This one was breaking new ground. It begins with words that might be construed as either a title or simply a summary of what we are about to encounter. In the phrasing of the ancient King James Version of scripture in which many of us were nurtured, “The beginning of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” More contemporary renditions say “the good news of Jesus...” (NRSV, GNT), “the wonderful story of Jesus...” (TLB), and so on. The story of Jesus. As that famous book and movie from years ago says, is The Greatest Story Ever Told
By the way, one of the things of which we should be aware as we begin is this term gospel. It is an English translation of a Greek word, eύαγγέλιον — euangelion. It is the root of our English word evangelism.
It means good news. In terms of literary consideration, when we read that Mark is writing “the beginning of the gospel,” the word is that this is not simply a biography of Jesus. This is a certain literary style that has a point of view. In fact, it is a relatively new form of literature in the ancient world — biographical, yes, but with a purpose, one that wants to make a point. Which, in fact, explains why our New Testament begins with four gospels instead of just one — we have four different perspectives on Jesus’ life and work. If we only had Mark, we would miss the infancy stories of Matthew and Luke — no wise men or shepherds, no Sermon on the Mount or Lord’s Prayer. We would have missed out on some beautiful parables like the good samaritan and the prodigal son. Without John’s beginning description of the pre-existence of the Trinity, we might have been tempted to think of Jesus as God’s son in the same way that we think of ourselves as God’s children. The point is that we would have missed a lot.
To the story… Yes, the title says it is the story of Jesus, but the first person we meet is a strange and interesting character, one whom we have come to know as John the Baptist. Actually, the gospels of Matthew, Luke and John also introduce us to John and they help us to get to know him even better. Mark simply introduces him with some Old Testament references, from the prophets Malachi (3:1) — “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way”
- and Isaiah (40:3) — “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” Mark begins with a word of hope as he harks back to the promises made generations ago that something or someone special is on the horizon.
They say that you only have one chance to make a first impression, and the first impression we get of John is weird. He is dressed in the garb of a wilderness man — camel’s hair clothing cinched with a wide leather belt. His diet was wilderness to a fare thee well — locusts and wild honey. M-m-m. No doubt some of his appeal to those who flocked from the city to hear him was precisely his weirdness. So be it. Whatever it takes.
Despite the unusual first impression John would have made, his preaching obviously resonated. There was a call to repentance, an invitation to baptism as a symbol of sins being washed away, and finally the promise of forgiveness.
John had a powerful impact. The account we find in Luke’s gospel has folks asking what to do. “What should we do?” Sounds like an obvious question following a sermon, but one wonders. As one writer has it, “We’ve heard the scripture. We’ve heard the word preached. But nothing happens until those of us who polish the pews with our posteriors ask that question. Until we do, what we have is not a message, but a massage.” Hmm.
“Repent,” said John. Luke’s account had the crowds asking him How? In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” Even tax collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do?” He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation and be satisfied with your wages” (Luke 3:10-14).
A Sunday school teacher once asked a class what was meant by the word “repentance.” A little boy put up his hand and said, “It is being sorry for your sins.” A little girl also raised her hand and said, “It is being sorry enough to quit.”
There was a cartoon wandering around several years ago in which little George Washington is standing with an axe in his hand. Before him lying on the ground is the famous cherry tree. He has already made his smug admission that he did it — after all, he “cannot tell a lie.” But his father is standing there exasperated saying, “All right, so you admit it! You always admit it! The question is, when are you going to stop doing it?”
America recently held another national election. The run-up to such events regularly has news organizations polling to get a sense of whether or not voters think the nation is going in the right direction or not. How is the economy? Good? Bad? Uncertain? What about war and peace? Are there international situations that impact us? How about our country? Are people behaving as they should or is everything a big, hot mess? Are current leaders doing a good job or do we want to get rid of what we have so we can try something new? The answer to those questions always determines the fate of candidates who reflect either a demand for “change” or a program that suggests we “stay the course.”
As to personal behavior, the news regularly leers at infamous celebrities who are remarkable for nothing more than their lurid conduct. If it is any consolation, previous generations were not exempt. I remember Tallulah Bankhead once famously proclaiming that her life was “as pure as the driven slush.” But that was in the days before Tabloid TV and 24/7 cable news channels. No wonder we are inclined to say we need a change.
Truth be told, systemic change starts with individual change, that good churchy word “repentance.” As the old adage has it, when I point a finger at someone else, three fingers are pointing back toward me.
Psychiatrist Tom Harris, who half a century ago wrote that enormously successful book, I’m OK, You’re OK,2 says that there are three reasons why people change. First, people change when it is more painful to remain as they are than to change. Perhaps you are in a job that makes you miserable. You cannot imagine being in that job for the rest of your life. So, you make a change. Why? Because it is more painful to stay where you are than to change.
A second reason for change, according to Dr. Harris, is finding yourself at the point of despair. Perhaps we suddenly come to the realization that we are about to lose our marriage, our family, our health. At that point we may change. You have heard people say, “I had to reach rock bottom, before I could take hold of my life.”
Harris adds a third motive for change. He calls it the “Eureka Stage.” That is, some people change because they discover — much to their surprise — that there is something better that they have been missing. Of course, this is precisely the message of John’s wilderness preaching. There is a richer, fuller life available to all who will receive it.
Those who heard John preach knew that they had found something that would make their lives more joyous, more purposeful, more livable. “Eureka!” This was it.
Repentance, of course, is only a first step. The next step is baptism. Think not of simply a ceremony that involves some water. Think instead of what baptism does — it introduces someone officially into the life of faith. John’s instruction about baptism says we cannot handle this repentance stuff on our own — we need help. There is beautiful symbolism in the washing of water to feel clean again, whether it be from the outer grime of daily life or the inner soil of bad behavior. The symbolism helps us to grasp a greater truth.
For example, we might look together at a map, you and I, and determine the best way to get from here to New York (or anywhere else, for that matter). You might point to a spot on the paper and say, “Now here is the way to get to I-95 where we turn to the right, follow it for x-hundred miles to the Jersey Turnpike where we get on and make our way northward,” and then (pointing to another spot on the paper) you might say, “And here finally is New York.” Well, you and I both know that neither the intersection with I-95 nor the Jersey Turnpike nor New York are actually on that map, but certain symbols representing those places are there, symbols that are there to help show us a broader and larger reality.
Perhaps that is a good way of looking at the water of John’s baptism. It is a symbol on a map to point us to the fact of God’s forgiveness even though there are times when we might not quite understand all that has gone on.
But John’s preaching was not done. The crowd had heard the preacher and responded, but John said, “Hold on just a minute. You have experienced something wonderful, then (just like a TV pitchman), he added, “But wait. There’s more. You think this is the be-all and end-all of the power of God? My brothers and sisters, this is just the beginning. In fact, it is the beginning of the beginning. I baptized you with water. But one is coming, one who is so much more powerful than I, one who is so special that I am not worthy even to be the servant who might untie the thong of his sandals — when he baptizes you, he will wash the Holy Spirit of God over you.” For a moment, the crowd thought they had already seen the whole thing. John let them know that there was more to come - not just a joyous holiday, but more. So, stay tuned.
Oh. Spoiler alert. His name is Jesus. Amen.
1. Raymond E. Brown, An Introduction to the New Testament (New York: Doubleday, 1997), p. 158
2. Tom Harris, I’m OK, You’re OK (London, Cape, 1970).