The Savior of Spectators

 

Jesu Juva

Mark 14:51-52                                                 

March 24, 2024

Palm Sunday             

 Dear saints of our Savior~

        This morning we heard a big chunk of our Lord’s passion according to Saint Mark.  Mark’s Passion account reads like the rest of his gospel.  It’s brief. It’s direct.  It’s the good news of Jesus Christ to be sure, but it’s packaged very economically.  We don’t get a ton of new information from Mark.  So, when something unique and unusual does turn up in Mark’s gospel, it’s definitely worth taking a look.

        Today I’d like to consider one interesting detail of our Lord’s passion—a detail only Mark records.  He adds something unique—two strange sentences that you won’t find in Matthew, Luke, or John.  As Jesus is arrested in the garden of Gethsemane, Mark tells us this: And a young man followed him, with nothing but a linen cloth about his body.  And they seized him, but he left the linen cloth and ran away naked.

        Who was this young man who was so determined to save his own skin that he ended up streaking right out of the Garden—making a break for it in his birthday suit?  Some have surmised (and it’s a plausible suggestion) that the young man is St. Mark himself—the evangelist—the human author of this gospel.  By including this account about himself, St. Mark is, in effect, placing his own “signature” within the very gospel text that flowed from his pen. 

        But if this is the case, then Mark is recording his own shame—sharing with us one of the worst moments of his life—how he, too, abandoned his Lord—turned his back on the Christ—left the Savior stranded and surrounded by enemies and executioners.

        Mark isn’t the only Biblical writer to do this—to share his shame with his readers.  Paul did it—tells us how he persecuted the church.  Matthew did it—tells of his life of greed spent at the tax collector’s booth.  They share their worst with us so that we might know that our worst—that our shame—our sin—can be erased forever by the forgiving love of God in Jesus the Christ. 

        Mark dangles these details about himself fleeing Gethsemane naked as a jaybird for our sake—for our learning—for our comfort—so that we poor sinners might also come to know the amazing grace and the incredible forgiveness that can only come from Jesus of Nazareth.

        Mark began to learn something important on that terrible night.  He had likely followed Jesus and His disciples from the Upper Room out to the Garden of Gethsemane.  He wanted to look on.  He wanted to listen in.  He wanted to see what would happen.  He was curious.  But what he learned is that you can’t be a spectator of the Lord Jesus Christ.  You can’t just follow Jesus from a distance. 

        No, as soon as you encounter Jesus, you are involved, one way or another.  Jesus tolerates no spectators.  (Just ask Simon of Cyrene, or Zacchaeus.)  You are either for Him, or you are against Him.  You are either with Him—participating in His life and receiving His gifts—or you are on the road to hell.  Either Jesus saves you, or you must save yourself (which never quite works out).

        Jesus doesn’t want spectators; but, oh, how we love the life of a spectator.  It’s so easy and comfortable.  Later today I’m headed down to Symphony Hall to be a spectator.  I’ll be taking in the final, grand performance of Bach’s birthday week.  I’ll hear high-caliber instrumentalists and virtuoso voices, surrounded by opulence and spectacular acoustics.  It’ll be heaven on earth, I hope.  And all I have to do is be a spectator.  Just show up and soak it in.  Those are the privileges and perks of being just a spectator.

        But what if there were no mere spectators at the Symphony Center?  What if every attendee was expected to participate in the performance—sing along with the sopranos, belt it out with the baritones?  What if you were expected to bring your instrument along—to be tuned up and ready to walk out on stage?  Or what if you could be called upon to conduct the whole performance, directing some of the greatest music ever composed? That would change everything, wouldn’t it?  You wouldn’t be late.  You’d be practicing and tuning up like there was no tomorrow.  You wouldn’t dare leave your seat for the snack bar, because you’re no spectator; you will be participating—actively witnessing the wonders of Bach. 

        In His church the Lord Jesus wants witnesses; not spectators.  And being a witness for Jesus—actively receiving His holy gifts—begins right here and right now.  Here in the Divine Service, are you just a spectator, or are you a witness of the living Christ?  When you hear the words, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,” do you say to yourself, “Well, here we go again?” Or do you say, “Amen,” remembering that you are baptized into that holy name?  Do you merely recite the confession of sins, or do you lay bare the cold, hard, naked facts of your disobedience before Almighty God—that you are loveless, selfish, guilty, and deserving of eternal punishment?  Do you mumble your way through the Creed, or do you confess the beating heart of all your hope in Jesus who was crucified under Pontius Pilate and who was raised again on the third day—do you join your voice with saints of every time and place who look for—who expect—the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come?  Which are you: spectator or witness?

        Because if we can’t be more than spectators here, where heaven touches earth, then how can we live as witnesses to Jesus at home with our families, at school, at work, among our friends and neighbors?  If you’re only a spectator, then you can leave here the same way you came—unchanged, unmoved, and living life on your terms.  But if you are a witness of the Lord Jesus Christ, you leave here changed and forgiven, bearing and sharing the glorious truth that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.

        Beloved in the Lord, this is the first day of Holy Week.  Don’t go through this week as a spectator, attending services when it’s convenient, sampling the music and smelling the lilies.  No, come here this week because the Jesus of the Upper Room is here for you, giving you that precious gift of His body and blood for the forgiveness of sins.  Come here this week because the Jesus of Gethsemane is here for you, praying for you just as He did on the night when He was betrayed.

        I may have “Bach on the brain” this week; but I remember once waiting for a performance of Bach’s St. Matthew Passion to begin.  Of course, I was just a spectator, along with hundreds of others, in a big Neo-gothic church in Leipzig.  The program was set to start with a big ensemble of instruments and a double choir.  But as the lights dimmed, and as the orchestra began to play the first notes of that opening chorus, the choir was nowhere to be seen.  The singers should have been up front; but they weren’t.  Where were they I wondered?  Only as they began to sing the first notes did I realize—the singers were seated with the spectators.  The choirs were scattered among the audience.  In fact, the woman seated to my left stood up to sing.  And she looked at me as she sang the first word of the entire Passion:  Komm!  “Komm,” they sang, as they left behind their seats among the spectators, and made their way to participate in the Passion of our Lord.    

        That same invitation still rings out right here.  Come!  Leave behind the spectator’s easy life.  Stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the disciples.  Carry the cross with Simon of Cyrene.  Weep bitterly with Peter.  See Saint Mark streaking in fear for his life. We have all run away and fled when we should have stood firm in faith.  We all share in the sin of the disciples.  But we also share their faith in Jesus, the Savior of sinners.  He became the sin-bearing servant of all.  He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

        He now lives and reigns in glory, working all things for your eternal good.  Before Jesus you don’t have to stand naked, ashamed and fearful.  For He has clothed you with His perfect righteousness.  His sinless life counts for you and for all who follow Him in faith. We can confess our sins because they are all forgiven in Jesus.  We can confess our faith because it is the beating heart of all our hope—it’s true!  We can sing our “hosannas” because the same Jesus who entered Jerusalem on a humble donkey comes here to save us through humble words, through water, bread and wine.

        You are no mere spectator.  For you are baptized.  Jesus has made you His witness for the life of the world.  This is the Christian life:  It’s never easy.  It’s never convenient.  It never quite goes the way we plan.  You just might lose the shirt off your back.  But in Jesus we know that the ending of the story is a joyful ending—a resurrection ending—a life-that-has-no-end ending.  Holy week has begun.  Come.  Together let’s witness the wonder of God’s love for us in His Son, Jesus, our Savior. 

        In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.