agape

Truth to Power

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Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Truth to Power” Mark 12:1-12

Rachel spoke truth to power. For her senior year at Evergreen State College, Rachel proposed a special independent study. She would travel to Gaza with the International Solidarity Movement. There, she would live in community with Palestinian families, initiate a “sister city” project between Olympia and Rafah, and start a pen-pal program between children in the two cities. Rachel was shocked at the destruction she found in Gaza. Every day, homes were leveled and people detained and killed. Rachel wrote of her experience to her family. Inundated by the abounding hospitality of her beleaguered Gazan hosts, she wrote, “I just feel sick to my stomach a lot from being doted on all the time, very sweetly, by people who are facing doom. . . Honestly, a lot of the time the sheer kindness of the people here, coupled with the overwhelming evidence of the willful destruction of their lives, makes it seem unreal to me.”

Bill spoke truth to power. He served as an infantryman in World War II, went to college, and worked for the CIA, but a spiritual calling took him to seminary. Bill’s passion, inspired by his faith, was social justice. In the 1960s, he was arrested three times as a Freedom Rider, challenging segregation laws by riding interstate buses in the South. Next, Bill turned his attention to America’s growing involvement in Vietnam. He used his significant influence as the chaplain of Yale to organize for the anti-war effort, earning the scrutiny of the Johnson administration. Wishing to make an example of Bill, he was arrested on federal charges of conspiracy to advise draft evasion and found guilty.

Zyahna spoke truth to power. At fifteen, she drafted a petition to the Charlottesville City Council calling for the removal of that infamous statue of Robert E. Lee and the renaming of Lee Park. The seeds of Zyahna’s protest were planted in her fifth-grade studies of the Civil War. She remembers, “Once I learned the truth about slavery and the Civil War, I felt disgusted that my city wanted to display a statue that celebrated my ancestors’ pain.” The City Council responded by creating a commission to consider the statue’s removal and ultimately voted to remove it.

Jesus spoke truth to power. His provocative Palm Sunday parade dramatized the tensions between the Kingdom of God and the earthly powers and principalities. Later that day, when Jesus arrived at the Temple and entered the Court of the Gentiles, he was so offended by the greed and corruption he saw that he overturned the tables of the moneychangers and the seats of those who sold doves for sacrifice. It was not a subtle entry into the city. In fact, it drew the attention of the chief priests and elders, some of the most powerful people in Jerusalem. They hailed from wealthy influential families at the pinnacle of society and walked a fine line between loyalty to their tradition and fealty to the Roman emperor. They came to Jesus as he was teaching and demanded to know who had given him the authority to undertake such a radical and prophetic act.

Jesus answered his critics with a tough story about a landowner and his vineyard.  As Jesus began, it seemed as if he might spin some midrash on Isaiah 5, the Song of the Vineyard. Isaiah described God’s frustration and disillusionment with Israel through the story a loving farmer, who cleared land, worked the earth, built a protective wall and watchtower, and carefully planted the very best vines to bear a bumper crop of sweet, juicy grapes. At harvest time, though, the farmer found only wild grapes—tough, sour, and inedible. God expected a harvest of righteousness from God’s people—folks living in right relationship with God and one another, but God found oppression, bloodshed, and injustice.

When Jesus told his parable to his critics, he made a few key changes in Isaiah’s plot.  That loving farmer went on a long trip and entrusted his beautiful vineyard to some hired hands.  Come harvest time, the vineyard was producing abundantly, just as the landowner had anticipated. The trouble was with the tenants. They seemed to think the vineyard existed only to serve their personal and economic interests. They didn’t think they owed the vineyard owner a red cent. Jesus’s vineyard owner was merciful to the point of foolishness. He repeatedly sent servants, even a beloved son, to speak holy truth and return the wayward tenants to the right path. Right about then, the chief priests and elders must have been feeling a bit uncomfortable.

The story that Jesus told is a juridical parable, a combination of allegory and hyperbole (exaggeration) that is intended to shock and provoke the listener. His listeners were invited to stand in judgment of themselves with the hope that change could happen. Confronted by their failure to honor God and the ridiculous, overflowing mercy of God, Jesus sought to shift perspectives and change behaviors. Could the Son be welcomed? Could the tenants return to God the righteous action that was needed? The graced moment passed. Judgment was pronounced. The chief priests and elders withdrew, conspiring to turn Jesus over to Pilate. We anticipate the close of that first Holy Week: Jesus, outside the walls of the city, his broken body nailed to a cross, breathing his last.

Speaking truth to power is never easy. It is not thinking that the world is wrong and only we are right. It is a bold bid for change and transformation that requires tremendous moral courage. It demands firm conviction that our righteous action is in keeping with God’s best hopes for humanity. Our words must pass the litmus test of love. Will the truth we speak ultimately increase love for God and neighbor—all neighbors? Speaking truth to power is an act of ethical resistance that can cost you your friendships, family, status, reputation, livelihood, safety, and even your life. Just ask Jesus. But without those who are bold enough to speak the truth, change cannot come.

Rachel Corrie never completed her senior project. Her efforts to stand with her Gazan hosts as they contended with the Israeli Defense Force ended her life. Rachel placed herself between an IDF Caterpillar bulldozer and a Palestinian home, thinking to prevent its demolition. Instead, she was run over twice. Her death brought international attention to the plight of Gazans. After her death, her family launched the Rachel Corrie Foundation for Peace & Justice to “support programs that foster connections between people, that build understanding, respect, and appreciation for differences, and that promote cooperation within and between local and global communities.”

William Sloan Coffin’s conviction on federal charges of conspiracy to advise draft evasion was overturned on appeal. Bill continued to advocate for non-violence and world peace. His provocative activism took him to Iran in 1979 to perform Christmas services for hostages being held in the U.S. embassy during the Iran hostage crisis and to Nicaragua to protest U.S. military intervention there. He became president of SANE/FREEZE, the nation’s largest peace and justice organization. His activism sometimes put him at odds with his parishioners, who admired his messages but wished he would spend more time actually being their pastor. Shortly before his death in 2006, Bill founded Faithful Security, a coalition for people of faith committed to working for a world free of nuclear weapons.

Zyahna Bryant’s petition to remove the Robert E. Lee statue in Charlottesville inflamed supporters of Confederate monuments. In August 2017, white supremacists descended upon the city in an effort to preserve the statue. Anti-racist demonstrators rallied to counter protest. One person was murdered and several others injured when a white supremacist used his car as a weapon, ramming a group of counter protesters. Zyahna Bryant is still using her voice to speak truth to power. She’s a student now at the University of Virginia, and serves as the youngest member of the inaugural Virginia African American Advisory Board. The Robert E. Lee statue was removed on July 10, 2021, and melted down in 2023 to be repurposed into new public art.

When the beloved son was killed, that foolishly merciful landlord did not destroy the unscrupulous tenants. Instead, God raised the Beloved Son, who returned with a message, not of judgment, but of love. It’s a love so great that it broke the power of sin and death. It’s a love so all-encompassing that it can meet all the evil of every wicked tenant that has ever lived and work from it a miracle of redemption and life. The risen Lord comes, again and again, calling the world to be in right relationship with God and one another.

We remember that the beloved son sent his friends out to do the same. They spoke God’s truth and took their licks, from the disciples to the apostles and martyrs, from Catherine of Alexandria to Francis of Assisi, from Martin Luther to Sojourner Truth, from Dorothy Day to Dietrich Bonhoeffer, from Bill Coffin to Rachel Corrie to Zyahna Brayant—to us. With trembling voices, we join the throng, lamenting acts of genocide, unjust war, systemic racism, and more. We call the world to the better way of love. We do our part, pay the price, and hope for change.

Resources

The Rachel Corrie Foundation for Peace and Justice. “Rachel Corrie” and “Projects.” Accessed online at https://rachelcorriefoundation.org/

Robert Shetterly. “Rachel Corrie” in Americans Who Tell The Truth. Accessed online at https://americanswhotellthetruth.org/portraits/rachel-corrie/

Robert Shetterly. “William Sloane Coffin” in Americans Who Tell The Truth. Accessed online at https://americanswhotellthetruth.org/portraits/william-sloane-coffin/

Robert Shetterly. “Zyahna Bryant” in Americans Who Tell The Truth. Accessed online at https://americanswhotellthetruth.org/portraits/zyahna-bryant/

Zyahna Bryant. “Zy Bryant Official: More of the movement, less of myself.” Accessed online at https://zybryant.com/

Rupert Cornwell. “The Rev William Sloane Coffin: Radical priest and rights activist” in The Independent, April 14, 2006. Accessed online at https://www.independent.co.uk/news/obituaries/the-rev-william-sloane-coffin-6103769.html

Matthew Skinner. “Commentary on Mark 12:1-12” in Craft of Preaching: Preaching Series, Jan. 22, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching-series/sermon-series-mark-121-12-parable-of-the-wicked-tenants

Spalding, Richard E. “Pastoral Perspective on Matthew 21:33-46” in Feasting on the Word, Year A, vol. 4. Louisville: Westminster john Knox Press, 2011.

McMickle, Marvin A. “Homiletical Perspective on Matthew 21:33-46” in Feasting on the Word, Year A, vol. 4. Louisville: Westminster john Knox Press, 2011.

Mark 12:1-12

12 Then he began to speak to them in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the winepress, and built a watchtower; then he leased it to tenants and went away. 2 When the season came, he sent a slave to the tenants to collect from them his share of the produce of the vineyard. 3 But they seized him and beat him and sent him away empty-handed. 4 And again he sent another slave to them; this one they beat over the head and insulted. 5 Then he sent another, and that one they killed. And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed. 6 He had still one other, a beloved son. Finally he sent him to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ 7 But those tenants said to one another, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ 8 So they seized him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. 9 What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. 10 Have you not read this scripture:

‘The stone that the builders rejected
    has become the cornerstone;
11 this was the Lord’s doing,
    and it is amazing in our eyes’?”

12 When they realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowd. So they left him and went away.

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The Hard Road

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Sabbath Day Thoughts–Mark 9:30-37

Who is the greatest?

If we are talking about nations, we might argue that the greatest country has the strongest economy – a chicken in every pot, a job for every worker, abundance beyond imagining.  Or, it could be the land with the most powerful military: expertly trained troops, cutting edge technology, firepower that inspires shock and awe.  Or, it could be the nation with the best quality of life – top healthcare, best schools, least poverty, and earliest retirement.

When it comes to the workplace, we might feel that greatness is found in the biggest paycheck.  Or, it could come down to responsibility—the number of employees we supervise or sites that we manage.  Greatness is associated with climbing the corporate ladder.  We have an inherent sense of workplace hierarchy from the tech billionaire firing rockets into space to the immigrant janitor, emptying the trash after hours.

Our understanding of greatness takes shape from an early age.  Consider our schools.  Greatness is acknowledged in brainy students who earn academic laurels, like National Honor Society, valedictorian, and salutatorian.  Greatness is heralded on the athletic field, where our natural prowess for speed, agility, or teamwork is rewarded.  Some students think that greatness is found in popularity—kids with the coolest circle of friends, best clothes, prettiest faces, and nicest homes are often most admired.

What do we believe makes for greatness?

In our reading from Mark’s gospel, the disciples were challenged to rethink their understanding of greatness.  Jesus and his friends were walking a long way, apart from the crowds.  The Lord used this quiet time to share a second prediction of the betrayal, suffering, and death that would befall him.  Given Jesus’ bleak prophecy, we might expect the disciples to discuss how they could best support, protect, and encourage their friend Jesus.  Or perhaps they would ponder how best to continue Jesus’ message and mission, if the worst should happen.  They could have talked about care for mother Mary, help for the struggling crowds, or healing for all those sick people who depended upon Jesus’ compassion.

But at the day’s end, as they settled into Peter’s home in Capernaum, we learn that the disciples spent the day arguing.  When confronted by Jesus, the twelve grudgingly admitted that they had been squabbling among themselves about who was the greatest. Peter thought he was the best because he had walked on water—at least for a little while.  Andrew thought he might be best because he was a natural evangelist, bringing Philip and Nathaniel and even Peter to the Lord.  James said he was the greatest because he was a natural leader whom others respected.  Judas thought he should take top honors for best managing the money.  On the road that day, there must have been the sort of heated, trash-talking debate that we hear in the locker room or on the line of scrimmage, in the board room or on the playground.

Scientists believe that the desire for status is a fundamental human motive.  A 2015 study by researchers at the University of California Berkeley Haas School of Business found that status is something that all people crave and covet—even if we don’t realize it.  We may not want wealth or a fancy home or an impressive job title, but we all desire respect, some voluntary deference from others, and social value – to know that we matter in the lives of other people.  Status is universally important because it influences how people think and behave.  It can even effect how we feel.  Indeed, when we perceive that our status among peers, work, or community is low, we suffer.  Low status impacts our health, making us more prone to depression, anxiety, and cardiovascular disease.

In the first century world of the Roman Empire, Caesar was the greatest.  Members of the imperial family and the Roman senate, as well as those who enjoyed their patronage, had high status.  Roman citizens had higher status and greater legal protections than residents of vassal nations, like Israel.  At the bottom of the social ladder were menial slaves and children.  Within Greco-Roman society, unwanted children could be abandoned at birth at the discretion of their father.  Even within Hebrew society, children had no status apart from the Beth Ab, the house of the father, the patriarch.  Outside the protective order of the Beth Ab, a child was completely vulnerable.  That’s why the Torah is littered with commands to care for orphans.

When we consider that first century world, we begin to imagine how shocking and offensive Jesus’ rebuke to the disciples would have been.  First, Jesus says that the greatest of all must be servant of all.  The servant of all was the lowest status slave in a household.  They were typically the youngest slave with the most menial of duties: foot washing, sanitation, caring for animals.  The servant of all didn’t eat until every other slave in the household had been served—by them.  Only then could they eat from the leftovers.  Next, Jesus—a high status rabbi who typically would not have been concerned with children at all—Jesus took a toddler and placed the child in their midst.  This child would have been the lowest status, most vulnerable, and dependent person in the home.  Jesus gave the child a hug and told the twelve that this was who he was.  This was whom they should emulate and welcome.  Can we imagine the shocked silence in that room?

It’s a tough teaching that flies in the face of our fundamental human desire for status.  It’s hard to even think of a comparable metaphor in today’s world.  Perhaps, Jesus would call us to be like migrant farm workers, spending long hours in backbreaking labor for low wages to feed America.  Perhaps Jesus would call us to be like the vulnerable children caught up in the foster care system without a permanent home or consistent guardian or a legal voice in decisions that profoundly affect our lives.  Whatever our notions about status may be, Jesus wants to turn them upside down.  Jesus wants to thoroughly reorient us.

Karoline Lewis, who teaches at Luther Seminary in Minneapolis, teaches that we begin to understand what Jesus is trying to say when we consider what God has done.  The immortal, omniscient, inscrutable, unknowable great God of the multiverse chose to be mortal, to know the finitude and the frailty of flesh.  That downward path continued as Jesus—God made flesh—concerned himself with the least of these, the low-status people of his time.  He sought the lost sheep of Israel, forgave sinners, touched those who were unclean, welcomed scoundrels, taught women, and healed Gentile outsiders.  It got worse: betrayal, prison, a kangaroo court, torture, public humiliation, and a brutal excruciating death that was reserved for the lowest status residents of the empire.  God gave us the ultimate object lesson in downward mobility.  Think about it.

It is a hard and holy road.  It makes no sense whatsoever until we affirm what those earliest Christians knew about Jesus, knew about God.  God is love.  God is agape, the choice to love others and act always in their best interest, without counting the personal cost.  Agape is the choice to love whether or not the object of our love is lovable or worthy.  It is a choice to love, regardless of status.  Agape prompted God to become flesh in Jesus.  In agape, Jesus poured out his life with kindness and caring, healing and justice.  In agape, Jesus chose the cross for the redemption of status-seeking disciples like Peter, Andrew, and James, for status-seeking disciples like us.

In today’s tough teaching, Jesus dares to hope that there will be others to follow him on that hard road of downward mobility.  He opens a window on a world that can be ours, a world where greatness is found in love that serves, honors, and sacrifices.  Jesus challenges us to envision a world where we are willing to be weak, vulnerable, and humble for others’ sake.  It is a world where our innate desire for status is subverted, where the greatest among us are not the folks with political power, the biggest bank accounts, or the most followers on social media.  The greatest of all love the most.  It is world where we can all be great.

As I finish up my message, I’d like to invite you to imagine the world that Jesus would have us make, where greatness is found in vulnerability and self-giving love.  In Jesus’s world, the Olympic games honor those who care the most.  The gold medals this summer went out to all the nurses, doctors, respiratory therapists, and caregivers who have been on the frontlines of the COVID crisis.  In Jesus’s world, the billionaires aren’t firing rockets into space; instead, they are vying to ensure that the world’s children have safe clean drinking water, enough food, and an education.  In Jesus’s world, reality television doesn’t pit contestants against one another for survival on a desert island.  Rather, competitors go toe-to-toe to see who can be kindest, who can do the most good, who can make the biggest positive difference in their hometown.  In Jesus’s world, every child is honored and everyone has status, not because they are intelligent, athletic, or popular, but because they are children of a God who loves them enough to die for them.

It’s a good world.  It’s the greatest.  Let’s go forth to make it so.  Amen.

Resources:

Lewis, Karoline.  “The Greatest” in Preaching This Week, Sept. 17, 2018.  Accessed online at workingpreacher.com.

Lose, David. “A Different Kind of Greatness” in Dear Partner in Preaching, Sept. 2018.  Accessed online at http://www.davidlose.net/

Moore-Keish, Martha L. “Theological Perspective on Mark 9:30-37” in Feasting on the Word, Louisville: Westminister John Knox Press, 2009.

Ringe, Sharon H. “Exegetical Perspective on Mark 9:30-37” in Feasting on the Word, Louisville: Westminister John Knox Press, 2009.

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