Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing, he hated the summer holidays more than any other time of year. For another, he really wanted to do his homework but was forced to do it in secret, in the dead of night. And he also happened to be a wizard.
Oh, wrong story!
Most of you are probably aware that Staunton is hosting its annual Mischief and Magic festival this weekend, and wizards and Muggles and house elves from all over have been crowding the streets and sidewalks. Trinity once again hosted the Hogwarts banquet last night, raising money for our Honduras ministry, as AJ mentioned earlier, complete with shepherd’s pie and all the Hogwarts professors in attendance – including Professor McGonagall, a character brought to life on the big screen by the late actress Maggie Smith, whom we lost just a few days ago.
This weekend reminds us of the power of story in bringing truth to life and light, in inspiring us to live differently, in opening our eyes to see the world through the perspectives of people with lives unlike our own, and perhaps, as a result, welcoming the world with more compassion and more understanding. Even through fiction – sometimes especially through fiction – we come to understand the human condition and our own selves better.
So there’s a reason Jesus taught in parables – the Good Samaritan, the mustard seed, the Prodigal Son. Jesus knew how a story can open our ears and our hearts in unexpected ways, how a story can speak to all of us.
Part of today’s Gospel reading is parable. There are stories and stories within stories in this reading from Mark. There is conflict, dialogue, emotion, symbolism. It begins with the voices of the disciples, who are offended because they have discovered that someone else is exorcising demons in the name of Jesus, and this person is not following them.
How dare he. This upstart is running around, doing good works and probably talking about Jesus as if he knows him. Aren’t we the disciples here, the chosen 12? Aren’t we the ones really following Jesus?
And when the disciples complain to Jesus, he, like any good educator – such as the
professors at Hogwarts – turns it into a teaching moment. He isn’t offended or concerned by this man his disciples see as an impostor – in fact, he tells them, “Do not stop him, for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able to speak evil of me.
“Whoever is not against us is for us.” He is echoing the words of Moses from our Old Testament reading today, from a story that echoes this one: “Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put his spirit on them!”
This man is doing our work, Jesus is saying, the work of healing, of reaching out to the ones ignored and shunned by society, helping us spread this message of compassion and God’s love – that’s a good thing.
And, as usual, Jesus goes one more uncomfortable step more, and tells them: Don’t get in this man’s way. It would be better if you were thrown into the sea with a millstone around your neck. Jesus’ lesson is an exaggeration, hyperbole. He isn’t suggesting, literally, that the disciples cast themselves into the sea, or cut off a hand or a foot in order to avoid sinning – he is, once again, teaching in parable. He’s telling them that this work they’re doing is not exclusive – God’s work in the world is bigger than 12 itinerant disciples – this good and healing work, this good news, is meant
to be shared and spread.
And he continues the parable with this somewhat cryptic image:
“For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”
Salt?
The people of Jesus’ day likely understood this imagery more quickly than we might today. Salt, in the early first century, carried – and, for that matter, still carries – many functions and meanings:
Salt preserved, which was especially important in a time before refrigeration existed. It kept food from spoiling – it kept people from going hungry.
Partly for that reason, salt was valuable. In Jesus’ day, the Roman soldiers were sometimes paid in salt – it’s believed to be the root of our word salary.
Poet and ordained Methodist minister Jan Richardson writes that salt is sometimes used in firing pottery – the potter adds salt to the kiln, not knowing what will come out – it strengthens the pot, but also affects the color and appearance of the pots in ways that can’t be predicted.
Not unlike the Holy Spirit.
In Jesus’ day, salt served as a symbol for covenant, for the promises we make to God and to each other.
Not unlike the Holy Spirit.
Salt seasons. It adds flavor and enhances flavor, and too much salt can cover up flavor.
And for me, this is perhaps the most beautiful way that Jesus connects our faith to, of all things, salt.
Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.
As we live in community with each other, our saltiness – our uniqueness, the gifts of creativity and spirit and ability that we each bring to the communion of Christ – creates a rich and diverse family of God that might worship and pray and break bread together in very different ways, depending on our denomination, our cultural background, our age, our geography.
Every Sunday we acknowledge the saltiness we bring as individuals to the body of Christ – in the Prayers of the People; in the Holy Eucharist, as we kneel side by side at the railing; in baptism, which we celebrate today, when we name and welcome one another to the community of Christ, acknowledging God’s grace in the life of the newly baptized and God’s grace continuing in our own lives, as we renew our own baptismal vows.
Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.
How do we live into our saltiness?
This morning we heard in our Epistle reading, James, one answer to that question – or
perhaps three answers.
“Are any among you suffering? They should pray. Are any cheerful? They should sing songs of praise. Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.”
Pray. Sing. Anoint.
Pray. Sing. Anoint.
Pray. Be in relationship with God, be in conversation with God, take time for contemplation and for quiet. Be listening for the Holy Spirit in all that we do; allow that dialogue, that abiding, quiet presence to be part of our daily hours, our going out and our coming in, our going to sleep and our waking in the morning.
Sing. Praise. Worship. Gather together, as we do, in this holy space to lift our voices and
hearts to God, to share Communion with each other and with the saints.
Anoint. Care for one another. Seek to understand one another. Name each other. Listen to one another.
In this moment, that caring may be reaching out to help those who have been devastated by this week’s destructive storms and flooding. In this moment, it may be working together to heal a planet so that these disasters do not happen over and over.
In this moment, it may be simply speaking again the words of covenant, of our baptismal covenant, and acting on them when we leave the walls of the church –proclaiming by word and example the Good News of God in Christ, seeking and serving Christ in all persons, striving for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.
Pray. Sing. Anoint.
Have salt in yourselves, be in peace with one another. Amen.
Sermon by The Rev. Cara Ellen Modisett at Trinity Episcopal Church, Staunton, Virginia, on September 29, 2024.
