Being Torn

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on the First Sunday in Lent, March 1, 2009.

Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-10
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen

Today is the first Sunday of Lent, the first Sunday of a season of preparation and penitence, taking us seven weeks through the teaching and preaching of Jesus, moving to his triumphant entry into Jerusalem; his crucifixion and death; and his glorious resurrection.

Today we return to scripture we explored in other recent gospel readings. We begin with the Baptism of the Lord and the first proclamation of the Good News, the proclamation that this is the Son, the Beloved, with whom God is well pleased.

We have also looked at the last two verses of our reading as Jesus tells the world “The Kingdom of God is near. Repent and believe the good news.” In between is a piece that is always a part of the lectionary readings for the First Sunday in Lent, Christ’s temptation by Satan.

In the church, Lent is historically a season of preparation for baptism. So today we begin our reading with the baptism of the Lord. Jesus came to John and was baptized. Such a simple and wonderful vision; Jesus is dipped in the waters and after arising he sees the heavens split open. Then the spirit descends in the same way a dove descends and a voice from the heavens says “you are my Son, the Beloved, in you I am pleased.”

This reading gives us two contrasting visions; we have the gentleness of the spirit descending like a dove with the assuring voice from the heavens saying “you are my Son.” But this comfort is preceded by violence: the glorious and horrible vision of the heavens being split open. The word in Greek is the root of the word we use for someone whose psyche is torn and split into pieces, schizophrenia. This root is also where we get the word used to describe a church split, schism. When describing this splitting of the heavens, only Mark uses this word, the other synoptic gospels use a less violent one.

So in Mark’s gospel, the heavens are split, fractured. There is chaos again in creation not seen since the days of Noah when the flood began. But from this chaos comes the Spirit, descending like a dove despite the chaos in the heavens. From this chaos comes the voice of comfort, the voice of a parent calling a child, “you are mine, you are my Beloved, in you I am pleased.”

This tearing word is used in Mark’s gospel in one other place. When the curtain is torn in the temple, it is not just ripped, it is torn apart; it is ruptured with the power of the word from which we get the word scissor.

I find it amazing that on this First Sunday in Lent we find this verb of such violence tied so closely with such hope. With the splitting of the heavens is the coming of the Holy Spirit, the very Spirit of God descends through the chaos of division. With the curtain between the Holy of Holies being torn, the division between God and humanity is rendered moot. When the curtain is torn “the centurion, who stood facing Jesus, seeing him breathe his last said, ‘Truly this man was God's Son!’”[1]

This splitting, this tearing, this being torn was used in Mark’s gospel both at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and at the end. That is the end as it is in Mark’s gospel before Jesus is entombed; the end before the resurrection; the end before the new beginning.

This word, schism, has great power. It has been thrown around by good Christians since the early days of the church. It has been a part of church life since Peter ate his first meal with the gentiles. It has been used since the days of the heretics and the Church Universal. It has been used since the split between the Roman and Greek Orthodox churches. It has been used since Henry VIII and Martin Luther. It has been used with John Calvin and John Knox. It is still bandied about today when talking about issues that threaten to divide the Presbyterian Church.

This is a hard word, a powerful word. It is the kind of word that once used is hard to turn back from. It is one of those words that when used in an argument takes everything to a new level, a level that can easily spiral out of control. It can become the point of no return in a relationship.

And it is this power that is exhibited for our favor, for our salvation in this reading. It is when the heavens are being torn asunder that the Spirit of God comes. In the midst of the chaos of the heavens torn apart comes the Holy Spirit in the nick of time.

In the Temple when the curtain, the one thing that separated God’s Holy resting place from the rest of the earth, when it is torn God is no longer contained. God demands entry into creation for the benefit of what God created.

It is what the prophet Isaiah asked for when he prayed “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence.” In the midst of violence and danger comes the grace and peace of the Lord.

The spirit that falls like a dove comes to us like the dove that returns to Noah on the ark with a leaf of an olive tree. With the chaos of the waters around Noah, there is a sign of life. After the world has been ripped asunder by the flood, God promises Noah that never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth. God creates this covenant with Noah by setting down a weapon, a bow.

God puts the bow in the clouds and when it is seen, God is reminded of this covenant. A covenant of faithfulness which is fulfilled in spite of the chaos of the tearing of the heavens, a covenant fulfilled by the descending of the Spirit and the life, death, and resurrection of the Son.

Death takes many forms in this existence. It kills not only life, but those things which make life sacred and meaningful, valuable and beautiful. Death takes many forms. There are fathers who die as fathers, because they are waiting until other obligations are less demanding before becoming acquainted with their sons. There are mothers who die because they sincerely intend to be more attentive to their daughters, but just can’t find the time. There are spouses who promise they will be more understanding toward each other but aren’t. There are people in this room who are alone and lonely, feeling friendless, seeking security and compassion, some are grieving.

The many forms of death; death can even tear apart a loving community. Death tears us apart. That’s what death is—a tearing apart. In the face of such deaths, what can we do to affirm the value of life? What can we do in the face of death except affirm the value of life? But how?[2]

Someone once asked John Wesley that suppose he were to know that he would die at 12:00 midnight the next day, how would he spend the intervening time. His reply: “Why just as I intend to spend it now. I would preach this evening at Gloucester, and again at five tomorrow morning; after that I would ride to Tewkesbury, preach in the afternoon, and meet the societies in the evening. I would then go to Rend Martin’s house, who expects to entertain me, talk and pray with the family as usual, retire to my room at 10 o’clock, commend myself to my heavenly father, lie down to rest and wake up in Glory”[3]

This is a wonderful and glorious story; Wesley had such a confidence in God, his vocation, and his response that he was ready to wake up in Glory at any moment. I read this story and am in awe of Wesley’s answer and his confidence. But as I read this, I see something more important; Wesley was more than prepared to die, he was prepared to live.

When are we going to live, knowing not that we’re going to die some day but knowing we are living? This is life! The sacred is here! Even with grief, struggle and suffering. And the whole living includes death and life, grief and joy.[4]

This power of God, the power of the Spirit upon Christ in the waters of his baptism, the power of God splitting the curtain while Jesus writhes upon the cross; these images of horror and death come with one great additional image, new life. Let us examine this moment in our lives. Let us look upon the danger and see not the death, but the new life in our Lord Jesus Christ.

[1] Mark 15:39
[2] Mark Allstrom, “Talking with Malachi,” March 24, 2002, Australia and New Zealand Unitarian Association Web Site, Anzua.org.
[3] Tan, Paul Lee; Encyclopedia of 7700 Illustrations, Signs of the Times. Assurance Publishers, R. R. Donnelley and Sons, Inc.: Chicago, 1979, Illustration #1500.
[4] Ibid, Allstrom