Sixth Sunday after EPIPHANY (Written on February 6, 2009)

For the Lectionary (what's a lectionary?) of February 15, 2009: Mark 1:40-45

 

After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, saying to him, "See that you say nothing to anyone . . .”

 

NO SECRETS, PLEASE by Larry Patten

What’s good about a secret?

As a kid I knew my parents wrapped up secrets and tucked them under the Christmas tree.

I’ve had children approach me and whisper they have a secret. Four or so years of age, she held a clinched fist near my face, the curled fingers white at the knuckles. “Wanna know what my secret is?” her excited voice teased.

“Up to you,” I’d say. I played the game. “It’s your secret.”

And she slowly opened her fingers and announced, “I have thirty dollars.”

I looked at a quarter and nickel. Dollars or cents, it’s her secret and now I shared it.

Those moments occur every day. Secrets can be fun, unwrapped on a Christmas morning, or in a momentary encounter with a child seeking attention from an adult.

In Mark’s Gospel there was a secret. Scholars called it the “messianic secret.” Hmmm? A secret? Intriguing, eh? For example, Jesus would heal a leper (Mark 1:44) and then instruct the giddy fellow with, “See that you say nothing to anyone . . .” Or Jesus accomplished a miraculous cure and the newly healed person was cautioned to zip his lip. A nasty, gnarly demon was removed from some poor wretch and was commanded to be quiet.

What is the “messianic secret?” If you want my understanding of it, you can read my second-hand thoughts here . . . but I’m less concerned about the explanations or theology of the so-called secret than simply not believing Jesus kept a secret. Or that secrecy was part of a divine plan.

Secrets destroy. Secrets undermine relationships. Are all secrets bad? No, of course not; there are endless exceptions. Still, I don’t think keeping secrets and faithful living are too compatible.

I remember a secret shared with me. (And I can keep it bland enough to relate.) Almost thirty years ago a friend and I traveled to a mutual friend’s wedding. During our hours on the road, my car companion shared a secret with me. Confided in me. Trusted me. He said he was gay. An ordained pastor, he told me he couldn’t tell his church about his sexual orientation because he would lose his job. On we drove. On we talked. His secret was a 1,000 pound worry crowding his soul. I was honored to be trusted. In some tiny way, he could spread some the awful weight around.

And yet, he still kept the secret. He would lose his job if he didn’t. And so his secret also kept him . . . kept him trapped and partially voiceless.

That was three decades ago. Would it be different now? Here in California (but elsewhere too) we still struggle with gay/human rights. Sadly, Proposition 8 passed. But just barely! The current Oscar-nominated film MILK prompts us to remember the risk and hope (again from over three decades ago) of one gay man’s voice. There are many examples of positive change regarding human/gay rights.

Still, I imagine I could ride with someone today and hear a similar, anguished secret.

As a pastor who has served churches with people who are openly gay, I have observed a unique and often costly truth for the GLBTQ community; for all of us. Often one of the first acts a gay person has to engage in to seek equality—thirty years ago or today—is to “tell a secret.” First, they may have to say, “I am gay.” And then, I am gay and the rites and rights of marriage should be shared equally.

That’s different than prior social justice issues. In the endless decades that went by as women fought to cast a ballot, no one ever wondered who was “disenfranchised.” If you looked around in 1919 (the year before the ratification of the 19th amendment), every woman you saw had not voted for or against Woodrow Wilson. No secret there! Play pretend and transport yourself back to Lyndon Johnson signing the Voting Rights Act in 1965. Finally, all citizens could vote! Once it was easy to refuse an African-American’s vote. After 1965, it was legally and visibly impossible. There were no secrets.

Hey, I enjoy secrets. I like the surprise on my wife’s face while she unwraps a present. I’ve had tender with children who revealed coins or toys or folded “I love you” notes and we shared a “secret.”

But in God’s good realm, in spite of Mark’s theology, there’s little justification for keeping secrets if it keeps people from being truly whole, truly healed, truly honest. In Mark 1:45, the leper once shunned now shouted about freedom. He “spread the word!”

Spread the word. Please, no secrets for all God’s children.

in Peace,

Larry