Text: Mark 6.7-13
Today’s Gospel reading offers us a snapshot from the
life of Jesus, as told by Mark. It's a
story of mission, of vulnerability, and of the messy, beautiful, and often
challenging work of spreading a message of love and liberation. We hear how Jesus, surrounded by his growing
band of followers, sends them out. Notice, though, that he doesn’t send them as
a large, well-equipped force, ready to dominate the powers of the world by
force. Rather, he sends them our two by
two, armed with nothing but a staff and the authority to cast out unclean spirits. Think about that for a moment. No grand strategy, no vast resources, just the
simple act of pairing up and stepping out in faith.
Mark says "He called the twelve and began to
send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean
spirits." What, I wonder, are these
unclean spirits? In Jesus's day, they
were often understood as malevolent entities, external forces of evil that
possessed individuals, causing physical and mental suffering. But we must ask ourselves: what might these
"unclean spirits" represent to us today, in our context, and with our
more scientific understanding? Could
they be, perhaps, the internal demons we wrestle with – the self-doubt, the
fear, the ingrained prejudices that hold us back from living fully and compassionately? Could they be the systemic injustices that
plague our world – poverty, racism, environmental destruction – the forces that
corrupt and diminish the human spirit? I
believe they are all these things, and more.
Consider, for example, the spirit of greed that drives environmental destruction,
or the spirit of fear that fuels xenophobia. These, too, are unclean spirits
that we must confront.
Jesus gives his disciples the power to cast out
these unclean spirits. This isn't about
some magical ritual or some scene from a horror movie in which demons are cast
out. It's about the power of love to
overcome fear, the power of hope to conquer despair, the power of community to
dismantle oppressive systems. It's about
recognizing the inherent worth and dignity of every human being and working to
create a world where everyone can flourish.
This power resides not just in some select few (the qualified exorcists
among us, perhaps). It resides in each
and every one of us. We are all called
to be agents of healing, to confront the "unclean spirits" in our own
lives and in the world around us.
Mark goes on: "He instructed them to take
nothing for their journey except a staff—no bread, no bag, no money in their
belts—but to wear sandals and not put on two tunics." This instruction speaks to a radical
simplicity, a reliance on the generosity of others, and a detachment from
material possessions. It's a reminder
that our true strength lies not in what we have, but in who we are and the
message we carry. It's a challenge to
our consumer-driven culture, which constantly tells us that we need more, that
our worth is measured by our possessions.
Jesus's words invite us to consider what truly sustains us, what truly
matters. Is it the accumulation of
wealth and power? Or is it the connections we forge, the love we share, the
difference we make in the lives of others?
Next, Mark tells us, the disciples are sent out to
preach repentance. Now, in our modern
ears, the word "repentance" can sound harsh, judgmental. But in its original context, it carries a
different meaning. It's not about
self-flagellation or wallowing in guilt.
It’s not even about the rather subjugated tones of the confession that
this 17th century service offers us, with its repeated cries for mercy on “us
miserable offenders”. Rather, true
repentance is about a turning, a reorientation, a shift in perspective. It's about recognizing the ways in which we
fall short of the love and compassion that Jesus embodies, and choosing his
path, his Way, instead of our own. It's
about acknowledging our complicity in systems of injustice and committing to
work for change. It's an ongoing
process, a lifelong journey of growth and transformation.
And then, finally, Mark brings us to the image of
shaking the dust from our feet. "If
any place will not welcome you or listen to you, shake the dust off your feet
when you leave, as a testimony against them." This powerful symbolic act can be easily
misinterpreted as an act of anger or judgment.
But I believe it's something far more profound. It's an act of self-preservation, a way of
letting go of negativity and refusing to be dragged down by those who reject
the message of love and inclusion. It's
a way of saying, "I have offered you what I have to offer. I have shared the good news. And if you choose not to receive it, that is
your choice. I will not let your
rejection define me or diminish my commitment to this work."
Perhaps you know someone, in your life, who refuses
to forgive another for the wrong they have done. They remain trapped by that
unforgiveness. It eats them up, with
anger and sleepless nights. You advise
them, you counsel them - that to hold back forgiveness is like drinking poison
and expecting the other person to die.
But they cannot hear you, they will not hear you, even though they love
you. You must persist…it’s your job to
try to turn them to the Light. But you
cannot be dragged into their world. You
must not accept their hate and feed it by accepting it. Ultimately, you have no choice but to shake
the dust from your feet, to recognize that you have done all you can, and to
release them to their own path. As the
old saying goes: “There is a Saviour,
and you are not him”.
So for us modern evangelists, shaking the dust from
our feet might mean something different than the literal action it did in
Jesus's time. Perhaps it means
recognizing when our efforts are being met with resistance and knowing when to
shift our focus. Perhaps it means acknowledging
that we cannot force anyone to believe what we believe, but we can continue to
live out our faith with integrity and compassion, trusting that our
actions will speak louder than words.
The disciples went out and preached repentance. They cast out many demons and anointed many
sick people with oil and healed them.
Their mission was not easy. It
was met with both acceptance and rejection.
But they persevered, sustained by their faith and their commitment to
the message they carried. And so too,
are we called to go out into the world, not with certainty or arrogance, but
with humility and compassion, offering the gifts of love, hope, and
healing. We are called to be the hands
and feet of Christ, working to bring about a world where justice prevails,
where peace reigns, and where all are welcomed and valued. Let us go forth, then, from this service, in
the spirit of those first disciples, empowered by the love that unites us,
ready to face whatever challenges may lie ahead, and committed to sharing the
good news with courage and compassion. Amen.
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