Lectionary reading: The SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY OF ORDINARY TIME - September 27, 2009

Mark 9:38-50

And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell.

NO WAY by Larry Patten

Ask me about hiking to Mt. Whitney’s 14,505 feet summit, the highest peak in California (and the United States outside of Alaska).

“So, Larry, how was it trekking up Whitney?”

“Rugged. Miles of uphill and the air getting thinner with each step. Went with a group and we did the trip in two days. On the first day we reached 12,000 feet and camped in a stark, treeless meadow with granite spires looming above like tombstones in a cemetery. And there, as we set our tents for the long alpine night, in the merry month of August, snow started fall--”

Stop. Me. There.

Stop me before I exaggerate.

That backpack adventure with a church group long ago was a grand time. I retain vivid memories, and I’ll happily share about the mountain beauty and my hardy companions. But I’ve told the story in the past to folks who were sometimes interested and sometimes bored, and almost always I casually (but emphatically) mention the August snowfall. I don’t dwell on the white stuff—I might even add that a late summer snow wasn’t unusual in the high country—and I’ll quickly move on to the other adventures.

But was there really snow? Drifts? Accumulation? Danger?

Okay, for barely an hour, flakes dribbled down. It was like tossing the contents of a near empty container of instant oatmeal over your head and, a few seconds later, a processed grain or two sticks to your hair.

We witnessed hints of a weak weather system that melted the moment they touched earth. But it adds to the story! It was darn cold! The trip was hard! It is a precious memory!

What fish stories do you have? (You know what I mean.) The tale where you extend the length of the trout or increase the size of the salmon? And if not fish, at least fishy. Exaggeration happily or miserably accompanies the most profound events of our lives. What are the truthful or not so truthful words you brandish to describe your first kiss, the worst moment of your divorce, the silliest job, the touchdown you almost caught in high school, or the explanation you gave to the cop when pulled over for speeding?

All of us exaggerate. For good and bad reasons. Stretching the truth can add humor and heartache to the story. Or slathering on layers of—well, let’s be polite—horse manure can successfully hide our fears and doubts.

Jesus was a great exaggerator. Wasn’t he?

And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell…

That’s an exaggeration, yes? Wasn’t it?

Imagine a disciple, having just followed Jesus into the dusty environs of Capernaum, and his wandering eyes focused on another’s wife. Ah, lust. Ah, longing. Ah, the fantasies of the glance. And then the once-distracted fellow returns his attention to the Nazarene just as Jesus mentioned tearing out your eyes if you detour along the path to God’s Realm of Love.

I can easily picture our poor disciple, tentatively raising his hand, clearing his throat, and asking the one he called Rabbi, “Are you serious about plucking out the eye?”

This disciple’s question, of course, will enliven his friends in the crowd. Like the one who used his hand to steal fruit. Or the one who kicked the kid who asked too many questions. Eye, hand, foot, and more . . . we all have appendages or attitudes that make us stumble.

Are you serious, Jesus?

Calmly, I’ll interpret Jesus’ intentions when he spoke of bidding farewell to body parts. He exaggerated. He didn’t really mean it. He only spun a tall terrible tale to garner their attention.

The Bible does that all the time. Jonah, swallowed by a fish? No way! Daniel, escaping that den of lions? No way! David, smacking Goliah with the first smooth stone? No way! Some country bumpkin, stumbling across an open field, and finding a pearl as easily as you or I spot a weed in our lawn? No way!

And yet, maybe—just maybe—Jesus couldn’t not exaggerate. Stories, wild and woolly, may be the only way to shake us up. To help us see, hold, and walk with purpose.

Do I exaggerate those delicate flakes that swirled about for a few exciting moments? I have in the past. I will in the future. I do it, though, to help the listener listen. Of the many “high” points in my life, the trip to Whitney was something I’m proud of, something I treasure.

Of course the Bible in general, and certainly Jesus specifically, salted the well-told tales. Sometimes we need to taste a verbal spice that is bitter or sharp and gets our undivided attention. Sometimes, a little sugar is shared to sweeten the story.

After listening to Jesus’ words, even two thousand years later, I wonder about my eye. My hand. My foot. How do I see or hold or walk that prevents or helps my sharing about God’s Realm of Love?

in Peace,

Larry Patten

(written on September 15, 2009)