Lectionary Commentaries for September 15, 2024
Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost

Mark reintroduces the theme of discipleship by first interrogating Jesus’ identity. As is common in Mark, Jesus initiates the dialogue: “Who do people say that I am?” and “Who do you say that I am?” (8:27, 29). Jesus’ identity is an ongoing subtheme with the disciples as they struggle to fully know him. We might also ask ourselves, “Who do I say Jesus is, by my life?” Jesus’ query seems to echo the self-revelation of Yahweh in Exodus 3:14—“I AM.” The disciples’ responses mirror Mark’s narration in 6:14–15.

What is significant is Peter’s declaration, “Messiah” (verse 29b). Ched Myers writes, “Jesus is not simply a great prophet; he is a royal figure who will restore the political fortunes of Israel. The revolution, Peter is saying, is at hand.” Whereas the disciples are often portrayed as lacking understanding, in this instance Peter appears to have insight, for which they are rebuked and admonished to silence. The Greek term used here is the same as Jesus’ silencing command to the demons in 1:25 and the wind in 4:39. Why was it problematic for Peter to identify Jesus as Messiah?

Emerson B. Powery clarifies the tense moment this way: “For Peter and most Jews, ‘Messiah’ (Christos) refers to a militaristic, political figure who would overthrow Rome’s power and establish a new Davidic kingdom, which itself would inaugurate the kingdom of God. Such a divinely authorized figure could not be the one who … would ‘suffer many things … and be killed.’”

Then Jesus’ identity shifts to “Son of Man” (Human One) as he begins to teach the disciples about his impending suffering, rejection, death, and, ultimately, resurrection. Jesus says these things boldly, and in a turn of events, Peter’s shortsightedness is again visible as he rebukes Jesus. 

Imagine the scene:

Jesus rebukes the disciples (after Peter identifies him as Messiah).
Peter rebukes Jesus (after Jesus teaches about the suffering to come).
Jesus rebukes Peter (looking at the disciples, Jesus refers to Peter as “Satan”).

The “Satan” discourse attests to a “fierce contest raging over messianic theology in and around Mark’s community,” asserts Myers. The emphasis here is on making a commitment to follow the path of God despite suffering—this is the mark of discipleship.

Notice the movement from Peter, to Peter and the disciples, then to the crowd with the disciples (8:34)—showing the expanding inclusivity of Jesus’ call to discipleship.  

Deny yourself. Take up your cross. Follow me.

Mark’s early readers would have clearly understood the dire circumstances of taking up one’s cross. In the Roman Empire, dissidents were executed on the cross, condemned persons carried their own cross, and the cross was a symbol of shame. The threat of death by the empire is a tool to maintain the status quo. Mark’s language conveys the severity of what it means to follow Jesus’ way—to commit to God’s reign. It is a political affront to the imperial state, an act of subversion.

Preachers might wrestle with the notion of suffering as integral to human existence—at some point everyone endures some degree of distress—as distinguished from suffering in terms of persecution by adversaries because of following God’s way. Jesus’ ministry of healing relationships, liberating captives, mending hearts, and feeding hungry bodies—that is, alleviating suffering—refutes suggestions that general suffering should be accepted as normative. 

Furthermore, Jesus is not suggesting suffering as a divine good in itself. Theologies of redemptive suffering have led to abuse, particularly for women, persons of color, and persons experiencing homelessness and poverty. Sadly, entire ministries have been built on the theme of suffering for Christ, yet the ministry leaders are excluded from the suffering. A practical response to this reading includes a call to selflessness in discipleship coupled with caring for oneself so that one may be able to faithfully act on God’s call.  

Modern readers tend to read this call to discipleship as an individual call but consider the communal aspect of life in the ancient world. Perhaps the call is to deny self for the well-being of the community, to take up one’s cross on behalf of the beloved community, to follow God with the community.

Following Howard Thurman, Powery concludes, “The one who follows Jesus will choose rather to do the thing that is to him [or her] the maximum exposure to the love and therefore to the approval of God, rather than the things that will save his [or her] own skin.”

References

Avalos, Hector. The Bad Jesus: The Ethics of New Testament Ethics. The Bible in the Modern World 68. Sheffield: Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2015.

Blount, Brian K., Cain Hope Felder, Clarice Jannette Martin, and Emerson B. Powery, eds. True to Our Native Land: An African American New Testament Commentary. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2007.

Myers, Ched. Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus. 20. anniversary ed., 6. print. Biblical Studies. Maryknoll, N.Y: Orbis Books, 2008.

In a book full of evocative language, the servant song¹ of Isaiah 50 stands out: “The Lord GOD has given me the tongue of a teacher, that I may know how to sustain the weary with a word. Morning by morning he wakens—wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught” (verse 4).

As a teacher and preacher, I love that description of the pastoral vocation. We teach and preach in order “to sustain the weary with a word.”

Words have power. Preachers and teachers know that. Politicians know that too. In the United States, we are in the midst of a presidential election season, and the two presidential candidates are speaking to audiences all over the country, as are their running mates and surrogates. The two national political party conventions this summer were full of speeches, with words like “freedom,” “joy,” and “vision,” on the one hand, and “security,” “great,” and “safety,” on the other. Each party sought to appeal to voters’ hopes as well as to their fears, aiming to motivate them to elect their candidate of choice in November.

These kinds of political gatherings can take on the tone of a religious revival, with participants laughing, crying, and applauding as they are enjoined to work for a cause bigger than themselves. And some of the speeches are truly inspiring—especially the ones that call on “the better angels of our nature,” as Abraham Lincoln famously described it when he spoke of the bonds of affection that bind citizens together, or should.

Preaching shares with political speeches the art of rhetoric, trying to persuade the audience about something, appealing to emotion and reason, weaving stories into the message, seeking to move hearers to action or to a change of heart.

But preaching also differs from political speeches in a number of important ways. And this passage from Isaiah is instructive about those differences.

For one thing, the servant-teacher in Isaiah 50 speaks of the source and foundation of his teaching as being outside himself.² The servant is able to “sustain the weary with a word” because the Lord God has given him “the tongue of a teacher,” because the Lord God wakens his ear “to listen as those who are taught.”

The teacher, in other words, is first of all a student. She listens to what God says, and then (and only then) she teaches and preaches. The teacher proclaims God’s word, not her own. The teacher does not seek to build her own brand (to use a popular market phrase) or to promote herself. This teacher of Isaiah 50 would not create a website devoted to herself. “Morning by morning [God] wakens—wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught.” Humility is key.

Secondly, this humble teacher-preacher teaches in order “to sustain the weary with a word,” not to gain power, wealth, or influence. The servant-leader in this passage seeks to minister to those who have been wearied by the changes and chances of life.

I am reminded of a friend of mine who, a few years ago, was going through a rough time. Her elderly mother had just died, and she was exhausted from caring for her in her last months. She was also grieving, of course, and we all know that grief is hard and wearisome work. She had a difficult time holding onto faith. My friend was one who needed spiritual sustenance; she needed to hear a word of hope in the midst of the burdens she carried. And though I tried to provide such a word, I’m not sure she heard it.

There are so many who are feeling that way right now, in your congregations and outside of them. There will always be people who are weary, whether because of personal circumstances or because of the state of the world. And though people find community in any number of places today (including in political organizations), it is only in faith communities that they can hear a genuine word of hope, of forgiveness, of joy, of resurrection.

Which is where you, working preacher, come in. Whatever else you do in your sermon this week, strive to sustain the weary with a word. But do so with God’s word, not your own. That is, you are a preacher, not a therapist or “life coach” or anything else. You are a steward of God’s mysteries. As the late New Testament scholar Krister Stendahl used to say, the job of the preacher is to “give the text more room to shine.”

Teaching and preaching God’s word is a great privilege and a great responsibility. Our tagline on this website says it well: “Good preaching changes lives.” And good preaching, according to the witness of Isaiah, happens when we first take time to listen “as those who are taught.”

One more thing: As the servant-leader in this text preaches and teaches God’s word, he encounters opposition; nevertheless, he does not desist from the task. His confidence is grounded in the same place as his message: “It is the Lord GOD who helps me; who will declare me guilty?” (verse 9).

This description connects, of course, with the Gospel lesson for this week. Jesus calls his disciples to walk the way of the cross: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it” (Mark 8:34–35). We are able to walk the way of the cross only because Jesus walked it before us and walks it still beside us.

Thank you for following that call to discipleship, dear working preacher, and for continuing to listen—morning by morning, day by day—so that you might learn how to sustain the weary with a word.

Notes

1. This passage is one of the four “servant songs” in Isaiah, as identified by 19^th– and 20^th-century biblical scholars. The others are 42:1–4; 49:1–6; and 52:13–53:12.
2. The “servant” referenced in Isaiah 50 is undoubtedly male, whether the prophet himself or another leader. I will use male and female pronouns interchangeably, though, since both men and women are called today to be preachers and teachers.

These days—when progress for civil rights seems to be backsliding, and mis- and disinformation is rampant; when respect, collaboration, and cooperation in public realms seem to have gone out the window—Woman Wisdom’s exasperation in 1:22 is felt all the more deeply. The Common English Bible translation reads, “How long will you clueless people love your naiveté, mockers hold their mocking dear, and fools hate knowledge?”

This is not merely the loving advice of a mother to her child (see also 1:8b–9) or the picture of a collaborative partner for a prosperous life (see also 3:16–18); this is a woman with something to say—her words reveal an urgency and a seriousness (even frustration or aggravation) that is often overlooked when it comes to wisdom literature in the Bible. Her voice is prophetic and her speech carries an imperativeness that should be hard to ignore. In her words, we can’t wait for wisdom any longer; we can’t wait any longer.

The book of Proverbs reached its final form as an anthology of smaller collections of instructional material in the postexilic period, likely the 6th–5th centuries BCE. The middle sections included in chapters 10–30 are likely older and derive from various dates and settings, whereas chapters 1–9 and 31 were composed as frames for the whole book during the postexilic period. At this time, the community’s foundations of kingship and temple had been destroyed; questions of identity and how to rebuild or reclaim that community were prominent.

There were divisions regarding the religious practices and theological convictions of God’s people. Some held tightly to the idea of rebuilding the temple and focused on exclusivity as a means of preserving the community. Others clung to the idea of kingship and developed the hope for a new king who would rescue the people from their imperial subjugation. Still others sought to frame community around sets of instructions that were dependent on morality and obedience—this is the primary goal of wisdom literature.

Much of wisdom literature is practical advice for living in community and is meant to cultivate respect, compassion, and mutual support. It can be expressed in a variety of ways and through various rhetorical strategies—both positive and negative. Inherent in wisdom is a focus on human experience and reflection. Wisdom literature was common in the ancient world, often framed as instructions from and for kings and noble officials, or as parental advice. We see these examples at play in the book of Proverbs and in other biblical wisdom material.

One notable aspect of biblical wisdom literature is the figure of Woman Wisdom. The personification of Wisdom is one of the ways in which writers sought to legitimize and promote wisdom as sacred, as a response to the questions of identity during the time (see above), and as a means for faithful living as the people of God.

Chapters 3 and 8 of Proverbs give us more of the origins of Woman Wisdom, as a partner with God and present at creation. Importantly, though, she is not a goddess. She is human, a mediator between the human and divine, and she enhances the theological value of the human experience and of human wisdom.¹ Here in chapter 1, she bursts on the scene, disrupting expectations of women’s behaviors in the ancient world. This woman does not fit the picture we see elsewhere in the biblical material of women who are reticent in public, yet assertive in private.

Woman Wisdom speaks assertively in the most public of spaces; her speech is sprinkled with theological notes that emphasize her authority. Moreover, her connections to divine speech and action further legitimize the theological value of wisdom. Considering the questions of identity and divine presence that were common during the postexilic period, Woman Wisdom’s speech in the middle of the streets makes an important implicit claim. Where is God? The answer: “God is [at] the heart of human activity.”²

The rest of this commentary will examine some of the literary features of the present pericope:

Audience: The speech is a rhetorical apostrophe to an audience not present. The reader overhears Woman Wisdom’s condemnation of other groups, so as to consider their own life choices (and hopefully not to be among those condemned).

1:20–21: The stage is set, and Woman Wisdom places herself in the busiest parts of the city, places generally qualified as “male spaces.” Her “voice” (Hebrew qol) and her “speech” (Hebrew amareha) are emphasized by the Hebrew text, which places those terms at the end of each verse.

1:22: Introduces three kinds of fool:

1. “Simple,” “naive,” “clueless” (Hebrew petayim): educable in principle, but these particular ones have already refused wisdom and have chosen to remain ignorant.
2. “Mockers” or “scoffers” (Hebrew letsim): impudent; chronically arrogant and cynical.
3. “Fools” (Hebrew kesilim): those who refuse to act with prudence.

1:23: The use of the Hebrew term shub hints at God’s calls for repentance and return, though here it is used to call for attention. The term “reproof” (Hebrew tokakhat) and phrases such as “I will pour out my thoughts [or, spirit; Hebrew ruach] to you” have theological significance, further legitimating and underscoring the divine features of Woman Wisdom’s speech.

1:24–25, 28–31: Repetitive phrases and terms such as are used here to describe the actions and consequences of folly. God’s judiciousness is hinted at with terms like “counsel” (Hebrew ets) and “reproof” (Hebrew tokakhat). And yet, divine malice is not in mind here; Woman Wisdom merely draws attention to the consequences faced when one chooses to ignore her (or the divine’s) calls (verses 20–23). Wisdom must be sought and practiced from the start; if it is not, one cannot easily find it. Such an attitude is consistent in the book of Proverbs. In verses 28–30, Woman Wisdom turns her attention from the imagined audience of fools in order to address the reader in an explanatory justification of her response (see below).

1:26–27: Though it seems harsh, laughing and mocking at derision is also something God does (Psalm 2:4). This dose of schadenfreude highlights the severity of foolishness and provides another means by which Woman Wisdom discourages the reader from acting like those who are being addressed here.

1:32–33: A summary of the arguments made in her speech, and a final positive instruction. The notion of “security” (Hebrew betach) would be particularly appealing for the first audience, whose world had been upturned by captivity, exile, and empire.

Notes

1. For specific notes about Woman Wisdom’s significance as a female figure, see the Working Preacher commentary for Proverbs 31:10–31 by this author.
2. See Elizabeth Stuart, “Proverbs,” in The Queer Bible Commentary, 2nd ed., Mona West and Robert E. Shore-Goss, eds. (London: SCM, 2022).

Psalm 116 is a song of thanksgiving of an individual, a poem written after a difficult time of life has been endured, survived, or overcome.¹

It may seem strange, at times, to recite an individual’s song as a community in worship, but the individuals’ song was most likely written just for this purpose: that the whole congregation could hear what God has done for an individual. The individual bears witness to the group that God has been active in her life, and so encourages all who hear.

It is typical of the psalms of thanksgiving for the specifics of the psalmist’s trials to be largely ignored, leaving room for often effusive praise of God. This is precisely how Psalm 116 begins, with the psalmist saying that he loves God because…

• verse 1  I love the Lord because (Hebrew kî) he has heard my voice and my supplications.
  The psalmist then continues to list reasons why she loves God:
• verse 2 … because (Hebrew kî) God has inclined the ear to me…
• verse 7 … for (Hebrew kî) the Lord has dealt bountifully…
• verse 8 … for (Hebrew kî) God has delivered my soul…

The reasons for giving thanks, one of the primary elements of the song-of-thanksgiving-psalm, are reiterated throughout the psalm. The pattern of “I ‘x’ because God has ‘y’,” that is so central to the psalm might be an important and fruitful avenue of proclamation based on the psalm.

Congregations and individuals do well to remember, and to bear witness publicly, to those ways in which they have felt God to have been active in their daily lives. Other Christians, other believers, and of course other spiritual seekers need to hear this. When we find ourselves in the midst of difficult times it is of utmost importance that we hear from others that these times can be endured, survived, and overcome, due to God’s care and provision.

The psalm itself serves not only as witness to what God has done but as the thanksgiving and praise that is due to God. Having prayed for help, and having experienced all the bounty of the Lord in response (cf. verse 12), the psalmist is now making good on the vow she made to sing God’s praises. Verses 12-14, not included in the selected reading in the lectionary, paint the picture of the psalmist’s sense of obligation in response to God’s grace:

What shall I return to the LORD for all his bounty to me?
I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD,
I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people.

A useful exercise might be for the preacher of this psalm to encourage the listener to first listen to the psalmist’s litany of “How do I love thee (O Lord) let me count the ways…” and then to beg the question for ourselves: Why do we love the Lord? What do we owe our God in response for all that God has done for us—from the seminal act of creating us as individual living beings, to providing for us in our daily living (as Luther puts it, “I believe that God has made me and all creatures; that He has given me my body and soul, eyes, ears, and all my limbs, my reason, and all my senses, and still preserves them; in addition thereto, clothing and shoes, meat and drink, house and homestead, wife and children, fields, cattle, and all my goods; that He provides me richly and daily with all that I need to support this body and life, protects me from all danger, and guards me and preserves me from all evil”²), to drawing us into the community of the redeemed through the Word.

For all of this, from life to faith, we owe God a song of thanksgiving and the witness to the world of all that God has done for us. Here again we might ask the question, “What might such a song of thanksgiving look like for us?” Is there an opportunity of/for confession, of bearing witness to God’s activity in the lives of our own people that might be explored?

One final note. Psalm 116, with its thanksgiving to God and the witness it bears, is set between two extremes, between two “existences” if you will: between Sheol—the land of the dead (verse 3), and the land of the living (verse 9). Sheol, which is literally the place where all who have died go in the ancient Israelite understanding of life and death, is often employed metaphorically in the psalms.

Sheol is not just a place—the land of the dead—but it is a state of being. The psalmist feels dead, and is lost, forlorn, troubled, while still very much alive. The benefits of God’s actions are that the psalmist is delivered from “death” and restored to a life that really feels like living. This produces not only “life,” but trust in God. With this in mind the preacher might consider adding (sic: keeping) verses 10-11, because with them in mind there is something of a chiastic structure to the psalm:

• Verses 1-2     “I love the Lord”
• Verse 3     Sheol/death
• Verses 4-8     God answers, delivers, saves
• Verse 9     Life
• Verses 10-11     “I kept faith”

The witness that is the core of the psalm, that God delivers, is centered at first by these two extremes, the experience of a death-like state and the restoration to “the land of the living,” and second by the declaration of the psalmist that she loves the Lord (because the Lord delivers) and that she kept faith even in troubling times (because the Lord delivers).

Christians may be inclined to rush to the eternal salvation promised in Christ Jesus, and this is not altogether wrong. But there is something very this-worldy about the promise as well. The promise is that because of what God does—listening to our supplications, answering our prayers, promising us life out of death, this life is transformed as well. And is that not worthy of our thanks, and proclamation?

Notes

1. Commentary first published on this site on September 16, 2012.
2. Martin Luther, “The First Article,” in The Small Catechism, in The Book of Concord: The Confessions of the Evangelical Lutheran Church, ed. Robert Kolb and Timothy J. Wengert (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2000).

In chapters 1 and 2 the author of James has made clear that certain outward characteristics— impartiality and faithful action versus favoritism and the mistreatment of vulnerable people, for example—are reflective of either inward integrity or a duplicity of being. In chapter 3 another piece of external evidence of one’s interior person is brought to the fore, namely speech. This passage is notoriously difficult and interpreted with wide variability by commentators both historical and modern. As earlier in chapter 2 on the subject of faith and works, here too the author’s rhetorical style is frank, intended to shock and appall. 

Chapter 3 begins with a warning: teachers will be judged more strictly (verse 1). It is not immediately obvious how this links to the paradox that leads on from this initial claim: everyone makes mistakes; anyone who does not make any mistakes is perfect (verse 2). A series of contrasts follow:  

• a large horse controlled by a small bit (verse 3) 
• a large ship steered by a small rudder (verse 4) 
• a small tongue with large boasts (verse 5) 
• a small blaze versus a large forest fire (verse 5) 
• blessing versus cursing (verse 9–10) 
• fresh and brackish water (verses 11–12) 

Though horses can be guided by a bit and bridle, and large ships can be steered by a very small rudder, and any number of animals from the land, sea, and air can be tamed by humans, the tongue is wild and dangerous—itself set on fire by Gehenna (gehenna, a place of punishment; James 3:2–8). Even such a markedly small part of the body can have a massive impact: “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire!” warns the author (verse 5), and “no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil full of deadly poison” (verse 8). 

If we compare chapter 3 to the rest of James, the issue here appears to be one of consistency. The tongue may be untamable, but it is a stable conduit: whatever is inside wells up through one’s speech. Just as favoritism or faith without action demonstrates for the author of James an inward fracture, so too should it not be possible that the same mouth could both bless and curse (verses 9–10). 

James offers a series of rhetorical analogies from nature to demonstrate that this discrepancy is against the natural order of things: “Can a stream pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water?” (Answer: no—this is not possible.) “Can a fig tree … yield olives, or a grapevine figs?” (No, of course not—fig trees grow figs, olive trees grow olives, and grapevines grow grapes.) Well, “no more can saltwater yield fresh” (verses 3:11–12). The tongue is unwieldy because it is capable of producing conflicting substances, both curses and blessings. This is not only morally corrupt, to James, but analogically against the laws of nature. 

And yet, concedes James, “all of us make mistakes” (verse 2). Anyone who does not make mistakes keeps their whole body in check as a horse is controlled by a bridle, or a ship by a rudder—but, as we have seen, “no one can tame the tongue”; in other words, the tongue speaks on behalf of its imperfect body (verse 8). 

It is for this reason that taking on the role of teacher should be weighed carefully. Those who teach are partly responsible for cultivating the moral life—and therefore, according to James, the outward actions—of those who learn from them. This is why the author cautions against teaching: if the tongue drives the body like a rudder steers a ship, then we might say that teachers are like navigation software—highly influential, if also possible to misunderstand or disregard.

Other New Testament apostolic letters caution against false teachers, likening them to false prophets. For example, 2 Peter warns that “false prophets also arose among the people, just as there will be false teachers (pseudodidáskaloi) among you, who will secretly bring in destructive opinions. … Even so, many will follow their debaucheries, and because of these teachers, the way of truth will be maligned” (2:1–2). 

Likewise, 1 John warns readers to “test the spirits to see whether they are from God, for many false prophets have gone out into the world” (4:1). Discerning between truly good and (at times very stealthy) bad teaching is key, and some advice is provided: anyone who denies the incarnation of Christ is a false teacher, for example (verses 2–3). 

As we have seen, James also warns of the consequences, the weightiness, of teachers’ influence: teachers will be judged more strictly than their students. In the end, teachers bear the brunt of the consequences, reaping what they have sown. The false prophets/teachers of 2 Peter “deny the master who bought them, bringing swift destruction on themselves” (2:2). 

Cain, Balaam, and Korah are all put on blast by the author of Jude as exemplars of false teaching, leading ultimately to their total destruction: “Woe to them! For they go the way of Cain, and abandon themselves to Balaam’s error for the sake of gain and perish n Korah’s rebellion” (verse 11). 

Cain was cursed and kicked out of Eden, eventually becoming an archetype of apostates (Genesis 4:10–16; 1 John 3:12; Jude 1:11); Balaam was rebuked by a donkey, blamed for suggesting to Balak that he tempt the men of Israel, and killed by the sword (see also Numbers 22:22–25; 31:8, 16; 2 Peter 2:15–16; Jude 1:11; Revelation 2:14); and Korah and his followers were dramatically swallowed up by a chasm that opened in the earth (Numbers 16:32–35; Jude 1:11). 

Bad teaching leads to bad consequences for all involved, because plants produce fruit in kind: fig trees yield figs and grapevines yield grapes. So, too, are outward speech and action the yield of one’s soul, whether curse or blessing.