An Underdog Story [Proper 9B - Mark 6:1-13]

 The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Mark 6:1-13

 

An Underdog Story

Zion, Hudson Falls

 

Rooting for the underdog was built into their DNA.  They were, after all, the children of Jacob: named for that younger son who had outwitted and outpaced the older.  They were the children of Joseph: the slave who would rule an empire.  They were the children of Moses: a man of slow speech who would reluctantly, but ultimately, speak the word of God. 

 

Their history was told by the unexpected.  Their faith carried forward by the marginalized.  The barren birthed this people.  And so, they loved an underdog story.  They celebrated that Esther challenged kings.  And Gideon triumphed severely outnumbered.  And Samuel was called to prophetic ministry as a lowly child.

 

And they, perhaps best of all, loved David. David was their greatest king.  And he was and is and ever shall be the archetype of the underdog.  Every mismatch, be it in politics, war, or sports, is labeled “David vs. Goliath.”  A boy against a giant.  A stone against a sword. 

 

As is still the case for every underdog, first century Israel found hope in that story.  They were a small, restrained tribe in the midst of the mighty Roman Empire.  They dreamed of freedom, of victory.  And though it was all very unlikely, it was David, and his simple sling, that reminded them that the impossible is possible. 

 

David didn’t look the part; he was born at the end of the line; his own family didn’t give him much of a chance.  But he escaped the sheep and felled the giant and dodged the spear and wore the crown. 

 

David was their champion.  Centuries after the great king breathed his last, the nation still longed for his true political successor: the Messiah, the one they would call the Son of David.  Who better to lead them into an impossible victory, a victorious future, than the heir of the ultimate underdog?

 

They were hoping and praying for that Messiah when Jesus showed up.  Or, in the case of today’s Gospel story, when Jesus showed back up. 

 

Jesus’ homecoming came on the heels of widespread success.  In the surrounding villages, he was casting out demons and healing the sick and even raising the dead.  One might imagine the hometown crowds buzzing with anticipation, awaiting his return with bated breath.  Elsewhere, Jesus was a hit – an unexpected, but undeniable, success.  He was a star despite his humble origins.  Born in a manger, raised a peasant, Jesus was a simple laborer, of an occupied people, from an underwhelming family line.  And he was doing amazing things.  Jesus was a triumphant underdog.  And, as we have already established, this crowd loved an underdog story.

 

Until that story hit too close to home, that is.  Jesus clearly impressed them; there was no denying that.  They had heard about the miracles.  And his wisdom was astounding.  But also, if they were being honest, annoying.  Because who does he think he is?  Acting so smart and holding court.  He has rough hands, working-class hands.  He is not even from a prestigious family; they know that because they know his family – very average.  They think that he thinks that he is better than them.  And they are not having it.  And while underdog stories are romantic, in real life people are supposed to stay in their place. 

 

And Jesus didn’t.  And the hometown crowd turned on him.  They, as the text tells us, took offense at him.  Because he was not who they expected him to be, not who he was supposed to be.  And so they did not know what to make of him – only that they did not like it.

 

This is a common theme in Mark’s Gospel.  Jesus’ own family is embarrassed by him.  His childhood friends are offended by him.  The religious leaders mostly can’t stand him.  His own disciples don’t get him.  The Roman rulers crucify him. 

 

Despite the miracles and the parables, the wisdom and the love, somehow Jesus was an incognito Messiah.  Mostly folks did not recognize him, could not believe that God would be packaged in such a common, unremarkable form.  It seems they thought God could do better than the brother of James, Joses, Judas, and Simon.

 

In many respects, and certainly in today’s Gospel, Jesus appeared entirely too normal.  And the people couldn’t make sense of it.  They could not make sense of what God was up to. 

 

Though honestly the plot was not as twisted as it first appeared.  The new things of God are always grounded ancient truths.  The old stories of salvation history always starred unexpected people from unexpected places.  David was, after all, small and smelled of sheep.  And despite that, it was still hard for the hometown people to believe that, the Son of David, the Messiah, could have rough hands and come from their parts, from the dismissed hill people of Nazareth. 

 

In this ruthless, weary world, it can be hard to believe that those old salvation stories are more than just stories.  We know how the world is designed to work.  We expect the rich to get richer, the powerful to accumulate more power; we expect privilege to birth privilege.  And though it is very much the story of our faith, we never really expect the lowly to be lifted up or the rich to be sent away empty.

 

But the Gospel tells us that God comes to us in unexpected people from unexpected places.  God is wrapped up in the underdog story.  Our salvation was in calloused carpenter hands. 

 

We live in a messy world and in messy times.  It can be hard to recognize the good and the God.  It can be hard to hear the voice of Jesus through the noise.  It can be difficult to see the fingerprints of God on the broken and bruised people of our world, to remember that each person is a living, breathing icon of the Creator.

 

But that is our task and our calling.  In a context short on compassion, we are called to open our hearts to the staggering possibilities of love.  In an age of limited imagination, we are asked to seek and serve Christ in all persons. 

 

Our open hearts and searching eyes will find that Jesus is still packaged in the most common and unremarkable forms.  He is all around us, still hoping to find a faith that can believe in the unexpected impossible.  Because it is still the case that the story of Jesus is an underdog story: the Prince of Peace in a world of violence, his message of hope clashing with this age of despair, a love so powerful it promises to transform this crumbling world into heaven.  The Gospel is an underdog story.  And we are underdogs whom God is now trusting to tell it.