The Way of Mercy

A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

This morning, Jesus shows up at church.

It’s the sabbath and the congregation in Capernaum is assembled. It’s probably not unlike any other congregation. Each person has brought the sum total of another week’s worth of experiences. Some come feeling weighed down. Some just not feeling it – tapping their foot, and ready to get through and on with their day. Some are surely sleepy. Some are hyped up on too much coffee. Some are perhaps feeling uncertain about their faith this particular day – wrestling with why they even come. Some are deeply relieved and grateful to have this time set apart to “give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart in the assembly of the upright,” as our Psalm put it.  All this humanity, together into one place and time.

And on this particular Sabbath in Capernaum, a man — a stranger — stands up to teach. And something about him – Mark doesn’t tell us quite what. Something about the way he teaches. Suggests something more is going on here than just a random guest preacher.

This man speaks with authority in a way others do not. Cannot. He knows things. This man speaks with power. This human being is unlike any other.

And as the congregation begins to absorb this, a man starts yelling. “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” 

Now – we’ve all had those awkward moments, right? In church, or maybe a meeting, or any kind of gathering. Someone has some kind of break – someone behaves erratically or inappropriately, or lets out all their rage in a single, poorly-timed moment. I bet a few members of the congregation gasped, and some probably shushed with great urgency. I wonder if some were scared. I would have been. What was this man going to do next? I imagine some might have made a move to remove him from the premises.

But before anyone could do that, Jesus speaks. He says, “Be silent, and come out of him!”  And an unclean spirit comes out of the man. The process is not without pain or suffering, as the man writhes on the floor.

But here’s the thing: the spirit leaves the man. The man does not leave the congregation. This says something about God. And it says something about church.

The most wonderful and perhaps the most terrifying thing about Jesus is that when we meet him, he knows us. He knows everything about us. He knows, at the most fundamental level, who we are. And he instantly distinguishes that true identity as child of God from the destructive things we have done or are doing.  

It feels odd to the 2024 ear to hear of unclean spirits, but really, I think we all know how it feels to be possessed by them.

I have in my life experienced the kind of anxiety that stops me in my tracks. Makes my heart race, and my stomach burn. Makes me snap at people I love – people trying to help me — out of my suffering.

And when that happens, it is like some spirit has come over me. It is like something or someone has possession of my whole body.

This is not to deny my own agency or relinquish responsibility for my actions when this happens. It is to say that my behavior in those moments is not the sum total of who I am.  

To believe that our worst behavior is fundamentally all that we are is called shame. And hear me when I tell you, Jesus is not in the shame business. I don’t know where that rumor started. Well, I have some ideas – but that’s for another sermon.

No Jesus is not in the shame business. Jesus is in the mercy business.

And I believe that is what he is teaching this morning.

Some of you may have read Bryan Stevenson’s wonderful book “Just Mercy.”

A lawyer, social justice advocate, founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, and much more, Stevenson writes,: “I frequently had difficult conversations with clients who were struggling and despairing over the situations—over the things they’d done, or had been done to them, that had led them to painful moments. Whenever things got really bad, and they were questioning the value of their lives, I would remind them that each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. I told them that if someone tells a lie, that person is not just a liar. If you take something that doesn’t belong to you, you are not just a thief. Even if you kill someone, you’re not just a killer.” UNQUOTE.

To see someone as more than the worst thing they have ever done – or even the bad thing they are doing in this moment – is to show mercy. And guess what – we can show it for ourselves, too.

When we are tormented by whatever demon, spirit, presence it is – these are the moments we may indeed feel that God has nothing to do with us. We may feel threatened by God’s presence. Unworthy of God’s presence. Angry at God’s presence. Fearful of God’s presence. We may scream that God has nothing to do with us. We may worry God is there to destroy us. To punish. To shame.

But God sees past all of it. Right through. To the child God created. And God meets that child with mercy.

Now, most of us will not come to church and see Jesus of Nazareth himself at the pulpit.

But we will have the opportunity to come to church and see Jesus in every person here.

And through each other – we have the opportunity to really see one another, receive and show mercy, and the healing that comes of it. This is church at its best, I think. All this humanity coming together still, bringing all our experiences, and our burdens, and our joys, and our doubts. Our tapping feet and our sighs of relief. Bringing ourselves and our troublesome spirits, and showing one another and the community around us the love and service and grace and mercy of Christ.  

Welcoming the child of God, always. And sometimes, helping that child show an unhelpful spirit the door.  

This is not to say it’s easy. It can take a lot of patience, and a sense of humor, and, in the face of deep offenses – it can take a whole lot of prayer and a whole lot of time and support. Because this work is not individual. We do it as a community. When something is too much for one of us, the rest of us can hold it. When one of us cannot forgive, we can do that work. When one of us cannot pray, we can take it on

Just imagine if the whole world caught on fire with this way of being.

This way of mercy in community. This way that anticipates that world, that kingdom, that is to come – the one Jesus taught about and continues to teach about through time and space to countless congregations.