Where to Start the Story?

  Avengers  Disciples Assemble!

Mark 1:14-20

The Gospel of Mark was written sometime around the late 60’s or early 70’s. It was written somewhere between 30 and 40 years after Jesus’s death. Mark is the earliest Gospel we have, so these are the first preserved words written about Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection. 

30 to 40 years have passed after they crucified Christ, and these are the words Mark feels are the most important for Jesus’s followers to hear. It’s written to mostly Gentiles, maybe in Rome, although that’s debated, and although his Greek is better than mine, he won’t win any awards for his syntax or grammar. I imagine him as this guy who looks around at all these terrified people who have lived the stories, or at least heard the stories, and are trying to find a way forward with this new faith in this treacherous world, and thinks, “Geez. Somebody ought to write this down.” So he grabs a couple of bar napkins, bums a quill off the bartender and sets to work.

But where to begin? How do you tell this story? What do you include? A scroll, or a bar napkin, as the case may be, is only so big. Only so much will fit. There’s only so much ink in the pot with which to tell the story of this Son of Man who will perform miracles, and feed thousands, anger the Roman leaders and upend the Temple traditions, all this to such an extent that it will result in his death and mysterious empty tomb. How should he start the story?

Mark’s Gospel is the shortest Gospel. Mark wants to get to the heart of it all as quickly and efficiently as he can. It’s a wild ride, full of immediate actions and sudden developments. Mark’s Gospel is the precursor to the 40 character Twitter limit, or the 3 minutes on TikTok. The word “euthus” - translated as “immediately” is used 41 times in this short Gospel. Mark has a story to tell, but he wants to tell it fast, all in one act, with no filler, no flowery embellishments, no commercial breaks, no intermission for snacks or a trip to the bathroom. 

So, if Mark wants to get right down to business, how should he begin? We don’t get a birth narrative. There’s no stable or shepherds or wise men. We don’t get any stories about his parents losing him at the Temple. Joseph isn’t even mentioned in the whole story. When Mark begins, Jesus is all grown up. Mark starts with a crazed lunatic out in the wilderness who wears camels’ hair tunics and eats locusts and honey. He’s wandering around baptizing people in preparation for the one who is to come, the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit. So, like we mentioned a couple of weeks ago, Jesus gets baptized, he sees the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove upon him, is named God’s Son, and then he gets thrown out into the wilderness where he’s tempted by Satan with the wild beasts for forty days and the angels tend to him. All that is in the first 13 verses of Mark’s very first chapter.

So far, Mark has spent more time and given us more details about this wild-haired slightly off-center John the Baptist than he has about Jesus. Mark chooses to start this expedited story with John, while Jesus seems to be this passive receiver of the events. Things happen to Jesus  at the beginning of Mark’s story, but Jesus hasn’t really done much of anything. 

So imagine you’re Mark. Maybe you knew Jesus personally. Or maybe you heard the stories at the knees of your parents or grandparents. As far as you know, no one has written down the whole story, and you’re about to put pen to paper, you’re about to chronicle the very first actions your Savior takes in his time in this world. What’s the first thing you’re going to write about? What’s the first thing you’re going to describe him doing? An exorcism? A miraculous healing? How about a scene of him defying nature or shocking the leaders in the synagogues?

Mark has set the table. John the Baptizer has sent out the invitations. Jesus’s gotten all cleaned up. He’s been sent to the wilderness to test his metal. Things are about to get started. Everything is lined up, all things are prepared. The path has been paved. Make way for the coming of the Messiah. There will be healings. There will be exorcisms. The paralyzed will walk. Sins will be forgiven. Hands will be restored and storms will be calmed. Children will be brought back to life, and thousands upon thousands will be fed. Jesus will walk on top of the water and bring sound back to deaf ears. Jesus will show power over demons and spirits simply with his prayers. All this is going to happen. 

But first, before any of that, Jesus’s first act is to ask for help. Before the meal can be served, before the healings and the feedings and the casting out of unclean spirits, before Jesus’s ministry can begin, Jesus goes out into the world and asks for help.

Now just think about this. 

If you were to write the story of the person you loved most in the whole world, how would you begin? If you’re like Mark, you don’t have time to bury the lede, you don’t have the patience to walk through birth stories or childhood antics, you want to start strong, you want to grab the audience from the beginning, get the story moving, and go straight to the action. You want to start with the most important things.

And Mark has Jesus start, first, with asking for help.

But this isn’t like Tony Stark gathering up the Avengers to save the universe with their technical skills, expertise in combat, or their superhero superpowers. He doesn’t recruit experts in the Hebrew Scriptures, or leaders in the Synagogues, or insurrectionists with guerrilla warfare experience. He doesn’t scour the district for millionaires to fund this new political movement.  He asks for help from Simon - who will be called Peter - Andrew, James and John. Four guys sitting in their boats, fishing and mending their nets. And spoiler alert - if you keep reading Mark’s Gospel, these guys aren’t much to write home about. Another spoiler alert - if you keep reading, they’re going to turn out to be pretty useless. They’re going to fail to understand what Jesus is saying. They’re going to be confused by his words and his actions. They’re going to harden their hearts and refuse to hear the truth of Jesus’s words. They’re going to fall asleep when Jesus needs them most. They’re going to run away when Jesus is arrested, and aside from Peter, in Mark’s Gospel, that’s the last we’re going to hear about them. And that first guy Jesus picks, Simon-now-Peter? He’s going to be rebuked and called Satan just a few short chapters from now. 

Are you following me? Connecting the dots? For Mark, Jesus’s first act, before the miracles and the feedings and the defying of the laws of physics, before Jesus does anything else, his first act is to ask for help from a bunch of uneducated working poor. His first act is to ask for help from these guys who will fail him in every way.  This is how Mark chooses to begin his Good News. 

And what does Jesus say to them? Essentially, he says, “I need your help. I need your help gathering others because I need their help too.” “Follow me,” Jesus says, “And I will make you fish for people.” “Come. Help me gather more people. More people who can help me.” And these four guys drop their nets, dump their father, leave the hired hands, and abandon the only way of life they’ve known to follow Jesus. To help him. To do what he asks them to do.

Mark knows the whole story. He knows everything that is going to happen. He knows the failures of these weak and bumbling men. And still, that’s where he chooses to start the story. That’s what he gives Jesus to do as his very first act, at the very beginning of his ministry, before anything else, Mark has Jesus ask for help.

If Jesus’s first act is to gather a bunch of rag-tag, spiritually klutzy, quick-to-leave-their-dad-with-all-the-work idiots around him, what does that say about God’s invitation to us?

I think maybe it means that God needs a little help. 

I think maybe it means that God refuses to do anything without our participation.

I think maybe it means that God is calling us to be a part of this radical movement. 

I think maybe it means that Jesus’s first and most important act is to invite us to the table.

There are no miracles before you join. 

Nobody walks on water until you show up.

No lives are changed until you start with yours.

The table is not complete until you take your seat.

No one eats until you’re there.

No one drinks until you’ve passed the wine.

God won't get started without you. This is how God chooses to work in the world.

Saint Teresa of Avila wrote, “Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, Yours are the eyes, you are His body. Christ has no body now but yours, No hands, no feet on earth but yours, Yours are the eyes with which He looks compassion on this world."

You. You who will fail to understand. You who will harden your heart. You who will fall asleep and run away at the first sign of danger. You. Welcome to the table. We can’t do this without you. And that is such good news.

Thanks be to God.