Strength Through Weakness (Reflections on Pentecost 7, Year B 2024)

“…for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:10b)

Happy Independence Day weekend to all my readers here in the good ‘ol USA! I hope you enjoyed your July 4^th and celebrated this great nation of ours. Yes, things are a bit unsteady just at present with a presidential election ramping up. We have one candidate who says he’ll make America great again. The other guy says we never stopped being great and are, in fact, the greatest nation in all of history. It’s pretty appropriate, I think, that the lessons assigned for Pentecost 7 in the Revised Common Lectionary touch a bit on the themes of greatness, strength, mission, and service. I think we’d do well as a people to reflect a little on what the Bible has to say about these things.

I don’t often focus too much on the continuous readings the RCL gives us from the New Testament epistles because, unless we have a festival service, the epistles are there for our edification but don’t often fit in directly with the Gospel reading or the liturgical theme of the day. On Pentecost 7, Year B, however, I might be able to make a connection. In this reading (2 Corinthians 12:2-10) Saint Paul is writing to a polarized community where everyone is running about trying to out-Christian everyone else. Paul tries to teach this gang of braggarts God has no use for their arrogance or their boasting. Paul knows he’s actually closer to God when he can admit his weakness. Paul doesn’t have to show off how great he is or brag about what he’s done. He knows it’s Jesus who has done everything for him. He can admit to being sinful, troubled, and in pain because he doesn’t value the adulation of the world. He’s okay with leaning on Jesus and finding his strength there.

In the accompanying Gospel lesson (Mark 6:1-13) Jesus instructs his disciples to go into the world in weakness. He sends the twelve out to do some old-fashioned missionary work—preach repentance, do a few exorcisms, heal the sick, your basic stuff—but do it as beggars. They’re not supposed to take anything with them for the journey. This might make Jesus a lousy Boy Scout, but it will have a spiritual effect on both the disciples and the ones they run into on the way. People will encounter the missionaries as poor migrants. They will have to decide if they wish to shelter or feed them. If they do, they’ll get nothing in return because these guys aren’t carrying any cash. For the disciples it will be a lesson in trust and faith. For those they meet, it will be an opportunity to show compassion and mercy. If they’re willing to reach out in kindness, they just may get a blessing from God. If they’re not, well, tough for them. The twelve will shake off the dust and move on.

Verse 13 tells us that this plan worked pretty well. That’s quite a contrast from what happened earlier back in Nazareth. It looks like that crowd was a little too close to Jesus to appreciate who he was and what he was preaching. Familiarity breeds contempt, we’re told, and it looks like the Nazarenes just couldn’t separate themselves from the hometown boy who made good. Their egos had to keep inserting themselves into the story. When a local gets famous, people either want to find a way to share in that person’s greatness (“Yes, I knew Jesus when he was just a little tyke. In fact, I’m the one who taught him how to read Hebrew. He wouldn’t be where he is today if not for me!”), or they find a way to diminish it so they won’t feel so ordinary themselves (“I’ve known Jesus all his life, and my Moshe got better grades in Hebrew school than he did. I don’t want to gossip, but you know Joseph and Mary weren’t even married when he was born. I’m just saying!”). In the face of these egos, even Jesus becomes powerless. He can’t do any deeds of power with these self-important folks. When we get hung up on ourselves, there’s no room for God to act.

Let’s face it: nobody wants to see themselves as unimportant, average, feeble, or weak. Nobody wants to face the world as a beggar or as one dependent. Dad doesn’t want to admit he can’t see well enough to drive anymore and has to surrender the car keys. Mom doesn’t want to have to use her walker even if she risks breaking a hip. But sometimes in admitting our weakness we find our true peace. That’s when God can work through us and work for us through others.

So, again, I hope you’ve enjoyed the long Independence Day weekend celebrating our great nation—a nation which I dearly hope will see her greatness not in her ability to conquer or control other nations, but in her ability to serve them. A nation which finds her strength in her ability to admit her faults and failings. A nation which is strongest when it cares for the weakest.

Happy 4^th, my friend. Come and see me again.