A sermon by Associate Minister Elsa A. Peters, November 1, 2009
Mark 12:28-34
Revelation 21:1-6a
A scribe, a guy that makes a living of words, comes to Jesus wanting to know which commandment is the greatest. I’m willing to bet that he knows the commandments. He knows God’s mandate to the Israelites to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength.” Or at least, he knows these words. That’s how he’s able to reply so quickly to Jesus. He’s written them down over and over again. He’s copied them for others to understand – but they’ve never become part of his understanding. They’re just words.
But, dare I say it: this is where the wild rumpus begins. In our search for understanding, we try to figure out how these words become real. Not just something that we recite. Not just something we can copy onto a page but something that has actual meaning to us. It begins here in our attempt to live out these words – with all our hearts, with all our souls, with all our minds and with all our strength. This is where wild rumpus begins.
Now, I haven’t seen the movie. Maybe you have. Or maybe, like me, you remember reading Where the Wild Things Are when you were just a little bit younger. Maybe you are so much like me that you wanted to recapture that youthful feeling again when you picked up a copy of Dave Eggers’ new book The Wild Things. At the retreat last weekend, this is the book I was reading. One of the women saw me curled up in a chair and eagerly asked me what it was. When I held up this cover, she looked completely disappointed that I wasn’t reading something profoundly theological. Instead, as far as she could tell, I was reading a children’s book.
But, dare I say it: Max is a saint. He’s not Mother Teresa or St. Francis. This kid who finds himself on an island surrounded by wild things may never aspire to a life of sainthood, but I still think he’s a saint. (Go ahead and digest that. I’ll wait.) Yes, you heard me right. I think this fictional character of storybook lore is a saint. In the same way I think the scribe in the Gospel of Mark is and the very same way that I think you are a saint. Yes, you. I know there’s no halo on your head. I know you don’t even have one of those funny flames above you like the people on our bulletin cover. I know that you’re just you. Still, I think you’re a saint.
I know. You don’t believe me because you’re stuck on some definition of a saint that you know doesn’t apply to you. So, how about I give you a new definition? The preacher and writer Frederick Beuchner defines a saint as a “’life-giver’ who makes others come alive in a new way.” I don’t think that you need to have any special title to do so – though the boy in this story of my childhood does. He’s made king of the wild things. As a group, they’re not totally sure this is the best idea. He might be too small. Or worse, he might not be good. But, in Dave Eggers’ version of the story, the real question on the minds of these creatures is: “Are you going to make this a better place?”
With all his heart, Max tries. He tries to give life. Max announces it: Let the wild rumpus begin! And with this declaration, Max tries to make that island a better place. Of course, he makes mistakes. He makes some big mistakes, but with each screw up he makes, the group attachment deepens. It’s not just a power thing for this kid who thinks it’d be cool to be king. He comes to love these creatures with all his heart, with all his soul, with all his mind, and with all his strength so that all he wants is to make this a better place.
Isn’t this what we want too? With all our hearts, with all our souls, with all our minds, and with all our strength, we want to make this a better place. More than anything, we’re trying to figure out how the words in Scripture can come alive and transform our world, but like the scribe, we’re not sure we really understand them. We’ve heard the words read aloud. We’ve read the words in the pages of our Bibles; but we’re not sure how these words will change anything. Instead, we’re waiting for the wild rumpus to begin.
That’s why we don’t feel like saints. We think that others have better answers than we do and that certainly they would make fewer mistakes. We forget about the power of love and how our love makes others come alive. We ignore how much life we give to others so that the vision of a new heaven and a new earth can only seem so far away.
But, dare I say it again: this is where the wild rumpus begins. This vision in the Book of Revelation is not some future event. This fantastical vision in the Book of Revelation is ours. That’s what makes it so fantastic – not because it’s so strange and wild – but because it’s a vision of our hope for the world.
This is the better place we want. With all our hearts, we want God to be at the center of our vision leading us to food and water. With all our souls, we want a flowing river that gives life to everyone and everything it touches. With all our minds, we yearn for a tree that offers medicine and food for everyone that needs it. With all our strength, we want this vision to be realized so that “death will be no more” and “mourning and crying and pain” will finally disappear. With all our hearts, with all our souls, with all our minds and with all our strength, we are trying to make this vision real.
We’re just not sure how – because like the scribe in the Gospel Lesson – we think that there must be something more concrete than words and visions. But, as Jesus reminds that scribe and all of us, the simple answer is that it’s in your heart. “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength.” With all your heart, love God and your neighbor. There’s nothing else to it but don’t be fooled. It won’t be easy. To love God with all your heart will make others come alive. It will make fantastic visions real. With all our hearts, we’re trying to love like this. It’s not easy but with all our hearts, we’ll make a better place.