Holy Week Tuesday Sermon (Year B)

 Ps 94; Lam 1.17-22; Mk 11.27-33

Tonight’s scriptures continue the pathway of this Holy Week, as we are being shown the strength and power of God, in direct distinction from the principalities of the world.

For thew world is a place of “divide and conquer” - where individualism is celebrated and humble, helpful community is not always seen as a good thing.

The lament in the psalm tonight speaks of the desperation where community is not going well. Where the worldly corruption is taking over; where the lessons of God have not been heard.

The lamentations of Jeremiah tonight speak again of the sense of isolation, of being torn apart from one another - a painful loneliness and helplessness.

The Gospel passage seems abrupt and still carries the frustrations and tempers of the preceding passage, with the cleansing of the Temple and the withered fig tree.

So Jesus today re-engages with the Temple community - the cleansing of which allow the space for Jesus and his friends to enter in; that Jesus might continue his ministry of teaching.

And we see a debate between Jesus and the rabbis - a debate which to our ears of 2024 may seem abrupt and antagonistic; yet for a community of rabbis, is not. For though rabbinical practice in discussing scriptures can look like arguing to an outsider; it is full of passion and a desire to learn. It is a debate that intends being challenged to new ways of thinking, of interpreting God’s word, of adapting our actions in God’s world.

So this Gospel is, in fact, inviting us all into that discourse to better learn God’s will. It invites us into a space of learning:

We can receive this Gospel as a simple, descriptive narrative - Having been cleansed, Jesus offers the gift of teaching.

We can also consider how the disciples are feeling - they have just witnessed the cleansing of the temple - and the withering of the fig tree, representative of Israel.

And now Jesus sits, to teach them - an act in itself rather counter-cultural; as he was not invited in by the Temple authorities - and they in fact challenge him - about John, no less.
John, who - in Mark’s Gospel - is not held up for his own ministry. He seems to be a secondary character, whose entire role is to point people towards Jesus. To bring him up in this context seems almost to highlight a counter-point on worldly authority.
But the Temple rabbis ask Jesus about him, right away, to start the discussion; maybe hoping to end the discussion quickly.

It's not difficult to imagine the disciples being overwhelmed, and stunned.
Because they realise that something more is happening. Something more ethereal. Something divine. Jesus is offering them the gift of the Holy Spirit: The comforter, the empowerer, the encourager.

In that space and that context, Jesus knows things are only going to get more difficult for the disciples to understand and navigate.
And he gives them the teaching on the power of God.       A lesson given with silence.

Silence is a recurring theme throughout Mark’s account of the Gospel - he often encourages those who have witnessed his ministry and miracles to not tell anyone what they have seen. And while we know they did eventually tell - otherwise Mark would not have this account - we also see the power of silence.

It is this thematic silence that suggests we are being pulled into an action of reflection and meditation; a silence (ROWAN PAGE 46)

That provoking, engaging silence continues in tonight’s passage.

By *not* answering the rabbis questions, Jesus shows his sense of peace. He does not need to defend himself, he does not need to explain himself. He simply IS.

And the disciples see him: confident in his ministry (where the rabbis are not)
At home in the Temple (while the marketplace vendors have fled)
Comfortable in authority - for he knows who He is - and peaceable in silence.
For the truth of God speaks volumes in silence. It speaks truth to power, it communicates love to the world.

And this is the gift that Jesus gives his followers.

The gift to learn to be still in the presence of God.

To be at home in a place of prayer.

To be comforted even when the world around is flustered.

It is the gift that we continue to be given this day, this week: should we be able to see it.
The gift of being seen, and known, and forgiven, and loved.
The gift of being welcomed, and taught, and humbles, and equipped to share the good news.

It is the gift of faith: a faith that I pray we all feel this night, as our liturgical journey takes us closer to the cross; that we may feel that faith as it compels us to also be closer to the world.