Mark 3:20-30 · Jesus and Beelzebub
When You Are Wrongly Criticized
Mark 3:20-30
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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Anyone here like criticism?

How do you respond to criticism?

Does being criticized bring you down or fire you up?

Do you want to hunker in your bunker or lob your own volley of vitriol back at your critics?

Learning how to respond to criticism is a lifetime journey. That’s because critics will be accompanying you from cradle to grave!

In every election year there is no shortage of negative, critical remarks flying around the airwaves. Of course all politicians virtuously claim they hate “negative” ads. And, of course, every candidate uses them. The justification for both sides is “Negative ads work.” Surveys allegedly show that those nasty, negative, often highly personal attacks are the most effective way of swaying public opinion. Negativity, bad-mouthing, accusatory honking profoundly changes the way we think and the way we act.

In a Charlie Brown cartoon, little brother Linus, looking very forlorn, asks big sister Lucy, “Why are you always so anxious to criticize me?” Lucy, looking very self-righteous, replies, “I just think I have a knack for seeing other people’s faults.” Linus turns indignant. “What about your own faults?” he asks. “I have a knack for overlooking them,” says Lucy.

Unfortunately, those best at hurting and critiquing us are those closest to us. In today’s gospel text Jesus is beset by critics. The first in line? His own family members.

It is easy to see how those who knew Jesus as brother, cousin, nephew, uncle, or brother-in-law (yes, Jesus was all of those; someone called him “Uncle Jesus”) who were used to sitting with him at family meals, working with him in the family business, telling jokes and burping babies with him, would find this new presence and persona foreign and even frightening. Glimpsing the God-inspired power that was drawing a whole new contingent of followers to this man who had simply been a bother, a cousin, a nephew, or a brother-in-law, Jesus’ family assumes and assaults with the worst — “He has gone out of his mind.”

How hurtful must it have been for Jesus to be rejected and labeled “crazy” so early in his ministry by those he had known and loved longest and the best. Despite this deeply personal critical encounter, Jesus does not personalize his response. His focus remains on “the family.” But he simply redefines who that family is. His family becomes all those who do “the will of God” — a definition that leaves the door open for all his blood relatives, but also now includes all those who follow him and recognize God’s Spirit present in him.

A family confrontation such as is described in today’s text could have made anyone into a “wound licker.” A “wound licker” is someone who cannot hear a critique, or suffer a personal injury, but then deal with it and let it go. Everyone needs a “shaggy dog” story and this is one that fits today’s text. “Hannibal” was a 180 pound Great Pyrenees — he looked like a huge, all white Saint Bernard. One day an enthusiastic tail wag whacked his long, plumed tail against the wall. He broke the skin on the tip end of his tail, making it bleed a bit. By all reckoning a “no-count” injury.

Except Hannibal couldn’t let it go. He started licking his wounds and kept licking. His constant licking of the wound roughed it up, ripped it open, and ruined it. The wound became horribly infected and a “tail-ectomy” docking his tail to half its original length had to be performed.

Sent home from dog surgery to recuperate, Hannibal still couldn’t let that wound go. Despite one of those great “lampshade” collars around his neck, he managed to wad himself into a corner and get hold of that injured tail. He licked and licked it into a renewed state of despair. His second surgery docked his previously long plume into a tiny bunny tail. His “lamp shade” collar was replaced with a much more restrictive five gallon, straight-sided bucket. Hannibal became the most ridiculous big dog you’ve ever seen — a bucket on his head, a bunny tail on his rear.

Hannibal couldn’t “let go” of his wound. He was obsessed with worrying over it and working on it. His obsession over his “woundedness” almost got him killed.

Concentrating on wounds we receive, the barbed critiques that poke, prod, snipe, and snarl at us, will turn us all into frantic, self-destructive, wound-lickers. Instead we need to hear our critics, deal with the criticism, and then drop all that “critical mass” off at the next trash receptacle.

Don’t worry about letting it go — there will be more to come. Let it go and keep moving.

Sometimes I feel like that poor mule that fill into a dead well that was about 20 feet deep. Have you ever heard that story? Well, the farmer saw from a distance what had happened to his mule, but it was just at dusk and by the time he got to the well it was totally dark and he had no flashlight. But the farmer listened hard for movement, called out to his mule and got no response, so presumed the animal was dead. So what do you do with a dead mule in a dead well? Well, you bury it. There was a pile of dirt nearby, so the farmer started throwing dirt into the well.

Now the mule had actually landed on “all fours,” and while it was initially shaken up and knocked out, the mule eventually came around and was alright. But it couldn’t move. It knew that it had to exercise in some way. So it did. The mule started stomping to keep its muscles from deteriorating, and by the morning do you know what happened? The farmer thought he had filled the well with dirt almost to the top. But in the morning light there appeared the old stomping mule at the top of the well ‑‑ on well‑tamped and solid ground.

I do like to duck at times from all the dirt…but if we keep moving, and stomping, and kicking down the dirt, we’ll end up on top.

Our Google world, our Facebook walls, may seem to be hurling more dirt than ever before. But really — not so much. Already in the late second century the pagan Celsus observed that though Jews and Christians quarreled, they did not quarrel as loudly and viciously as different groups of Christians quarreled with each other.

Think some of our “in your face” journalists are bad these days at throwing dirt? In 1844 when the Methodists met in General Conference someone said that the atmosphere was so tense that he could get 500 signatures to hang a famous Methodist preacher in Albany, New York in a short period of time. Someone bet him $500.00 he couldn’t, and the challenge was accepted. A petition was circulated, and within the allotted time 500 signatures for a public hanging of the preacher were brought in and confirmed.

In the great literary tradition of “T-shirt” truths, a recent rag celebrates the fact that “You’re nobody until your Anathema to Somebody . . .”

Mark’s candid description of Jesus being labeled as “crazy” by his family and as a demon-possessed, Satan-empowered magician by the staid and stately scribes proves Machiavelli’s shrewd observation that “hatred is gained as much by good works as by evil ones.” You can count is as a life truth: the people you help the most will betray you the worst. You can count is as a life truth: the price of love is a broken heart.

You say: not me. I say: you think you’re better than Jesus? Jesus had cast out hurtful demons from suffering souls, healed paralytics, and gathered a rag-tag assortment of people around him to listen and learn about the love of God and the promise of God’s coming kingdom. For these “terrible” actions he was branded as crazy, as possessed, as blasphemous, as an instrument of the “prince of demons.”

Jesus’ answer to his critics is found in today’s confrontation. He does not assault any of his attackers. When his relatives reviled him, he turned the other cheek and celebrated his new family — a family that in no way forever excluded his earthly family. When the scribes assailed him with their arsenals of theological brickbats, he turned the other cheek by exposing their faulty logic even as he revealed the truth of his own source of power.

He calmly offered his critics something called Choice and Consequences. They get to choose, but with their choice comes consequences. It’s not a no-fault choice. They either acknowledge the presence of God’s Spirit and embrace God’s will, or, if they choose to wrongly to view good as evil, they can suffer the consequences. Choices have Consequences. Either way, Jesus keeps moving.

Being wrongly criticized — being told you are wrong, you are crazy, you are lazy, you are foolish, you are at fault, you are weak, you are alone — is never fun. But criticism is a sign that you are doing something that matters enough to rile up stagnant waters.

Ghandi was hooted at, hollered down, and hauled away throughout his lifetime of activism. But being criticized and censored wasn’t the greatest challenge he experienced. After a lifetime of being on the outside, and then suddenly ushered into the inner sanctums, Ghandi noted this:

When we try to bring about change in our societies we are treated first with indifference, then with ridicule, then with abuse and then with oppression. And finally, the greatest challenge is thrown at us: We are treated with respect. This is the most dangerous stage.

There is something more dangerous than criticism. That something is respectability.

Don’t respond to critiques of yourself with critiques of your critics. Martin Luther King, Jr. didn’t inspire the nation and jumpstart the transformation of our society by announcing “I have a complaint!” or, “I have a beef!” or “I have a kvetch!” Martin Luther King, Jr. looked at all that was wrong, all that was unjust, all that was sinful, and did not offer the world a critique. Instead he offered the world a “dream” — a new vision of justice, mercy, and love.

And on what basis did Martin Luther King, Jr. build his dream? His basis was his place and participation in his first family — not his American family, not even his Baptist family, but as a member of Jesus Christ’s family and the family of God.

We have learned how to deal with criticism this morning from a dog, a donkey, Jesus, Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr. The only one missing is Mother Teresa. So let’s end with her. Whenever Mother Teresa would meet someone who was particularly obnoxious, or hateful, or mean or disturbed, she would say to herself, “Here is Jesus in a distressing disguise.”

You will meet lots of Jesus’ in “distressing disguises” in your lifetime. There are lots of razor-bladed religious people out there. Don’t lick your wounds. Let your wounds heal. Turn the other cheek by giving them choice-and-consequences. And keep moving, always expecting around the bend another “Jesus in a distressing disguise.”

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COMMENTARY
 

One of Mark’s favorite literary recipes is the “Markan sandwich.” It is called the “Markan sandwich” because Mark likes to use the technique of inserting one story into the middle of another in order to demonstrate the connectedness between the two. In this week’s gospel text Mark begins with a narrative about Jesus’ personal family (3:20-21). But suddenly he interrupts it with the story of accusations of the scribes. Hence “Markan sandwich.”

In this story, some scribes insist that Jesus is possessed and that the exorcisms he has performed were enabled by a demonic source (vv.222-28). Only after Jesus has responded to the scribes’ allegations does the narrative return to the drama between Jesus and his family (vv.30-35). This particular “sandwich” demonstrates the connection between the wrong attitudes held by both these groups. The learned scholars from Jerusalem, as well as those who have known Jesus all his life, both fail to see the presence of the Spirit and the working out of God’s will in the person and actions of Jesus. Greatness is walking by in front of them, and they not only fail to recognize greatness when they see it. They attack it.

Today’s narrative begins with a “focus on the family.” But it is not a pretty picture. Mark is the only gospel that records this extreme judgment and reaction expressed by Jesus’ family. The term translated in v. 21 as “family” is “hoi par autou” — literally “those from him.” This is a colloquial term that could include immediate “family,” “relatives,” or even “friends.” When the text returns to this story in v.31, it is clear that those involved in this confrontation are in fact Jesus’ own family. Thus it is those who have known him the longest, who have lived with him since childhood, who look at this new situation and conclude “He has gone out of his mind” (v.21).

After this diagnosis Mark “sandwiches” in his other scene. A contingent of scribes from Jerusalem were most likely sent by the Sanhedrin to investigate this preacher, healer, exorcist who was suddenly attracting large crowds of followers. Immediately these religious authorities make their own assessment of Jesus and his activities. They accuse him first of being possessed by “Beelzebul” (a reference to the ancient Canaanite god). They then conclude that any acts of exorcism conducted by him were carried out through demonic power, by “the ruler of the demons” (v.22). In other words, they charge Jesus with practicing sorcery, or magic, a serious crime punishable by death.

Jesus’ response to this pronouncement is described as a “parable” (“parabole”), Mark’s first use of this term. A parable “throws” or “places” two different things side by side for comparison. Mark wrote “sandwiches.” Jesus spoke in parables.

Jesus sharpens the focus of the scribe’s accusations by replacing the obscure “Beelzebul” with the familiar adversarial term “Satan.” Combating the hold Satan has on this world is his own mission, Jesus declares. Why would Satan enable the very one who has come to destroy him? Such an action would be as a “kingdom” or a “household” divided and at war with itself. Having experienced the implosion of the Herodian dynasty, Mark’s audience would be well acquainted with the destructive consequences that result from a divided kingdom. In light of the accusations of madness just leveled at him by his own family Jesus’ mention of a divided “household” is poignant.

The second parabolic argument Jesus offers is the example of the “strong man” who must first be bound if his house is to be plundered. This image asserts Satan’s strength in this world, yet simultaneously it also subtly submits that Jesus’ own power is greater. If Satan is the “strong man” who holds the world in his death grip, with every exorcism or healing Jesus demonstrates his superior power over that evil.

Jesus concludes his response to the scribes with his first “Amen” saying. This is a distinctive formula used only by Jesus that precludes an authoritative “thus-says-the-Lord” pronouncement. What Jesus proclaims is both the promise of forgiveness and of condemnation. The promise of forgiveness is a broadly spread blanket: “Whatever blasphemies they utter.” The promise of condemnation is highly specific: blasphemy “against the Holy Spirit.”

This latter “unforgiveable sin,” as it is so often called, has been redefined and reconfigured by different theologians and churches over the centuries. St. Augustine’s conclusion that this was the sin of continued impenitence and a stubborn resistance to God’s grace served as fuel to many a theological firestorm. Unfortunately blasphemy “against the Holy Spirit” often became blasphemy against whatever theological mandate was in charge — be they Catholic Calvinist, Puritan, Arminian, Reformed, or Holiness.

In the context of today’s gospel, however, this “blasphemy” Jesus speaks of is specific. The scribes to whom he is speaking have observed Jesus’ healings and exorcisms and they have refused to see these actions as the work of the Holy Spirit. Instead they have “blasphemed” by ascribing the presence of the Holy Spirit to the presence of the “prince of demons.” They look at good and see only evil. They look at Jesus who possesses the Spirit of God and declare him to have an “unclean spirit.”

Now Mark’s text returns to his first story, refocusing on the fracas within Jesus’ own family. The physical symbolism Mark describes is telling. Jesus’ family stands “outside,” cut off from approaching Jesus and dragging him home, by the crowds of those who are listening and learning from him. Just previous to today’s text Mark had described the calling of Jesus’ chosen twelve disciples, a new community, a new family, of faith that will walk and work with Jesus throughout his earthly mission. They are “inside,” next to Jesus, surrounding him, while his family who have labeled Jesus as “out of his mind” are cut-off, remote from that new series of relationships.

Jesus offers the first of yet another of his distinctive sayings — an inclusive “gnomic” utterance that begins with “whoever” or “if anyone” (see Mark 9:37-40; 10:29-31; 10:43,45; 11:23). “Family” is now redefined as “whoever does the will of God.” Jesus does the will of God by being accused of demon possession and sorcery, by being rejected, by suffering and dying. “Doing the will of God” admits one to Jesus’ family and it binds all new family members together as “brother and sister and mother.” But admission to this new family comes with criticism. And it may have to be bought with blood.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Leonard Sweet Sermons, by Leonard Sweet