This has been one of those weekends where the sermon that Dr. Hunter had prepared got tossed out because she needed to address the injustice that took place on November 19. The not guilty verdict on all counts for Kyle Rittenhouse threw many of us off center. We may be distracted in our worship or confused in worship. And that is OK, for we are not called to worship with perfection, but to make a joyful noise.

My lexicon of popular music is pretty short. But there have been popular songs that have intrigued and inspired me; like R.E.M.’s “The End of the World as We Know it,” first released in November 1987 and re-released in December 1991. In a lot of ways, the 1980s were the end of the world as I knew it: coming out, leaving a community of faith that I had known all my life, creating and losing a long-term relationship. Even moving from my beloved Chicago to Seattle in 1996 felt like the end of the world I knew. So I was intrigued by the second line of R.E.M.’s title, “And I feel fine.” It’s the end of the world and I feel fine? Perhaps the song is a soundtrack for Jesus’ words in Mark 13.1-8 about war and natural disasters and suffering. Because the end, he says, “is but the beginning of birth pangs.” Could there possibly be any good news in the end of the world as we know it? Join us this Sunday as we wonder together.

This All Saints’ Day, Pastor Anita preaches on Mark 12: 38-44, a story that is usually told to encourage people to tithe. But is there more in Jesus’ observation of the widow who gives all she has? What do we have to give at SFBC—our tithes, yes, but also our time, energy, passion, care, prayer and more. Let us worship together and share communion as we talk about all of the ways we give—of ourselves and of our community—to this world.

For all the talk about the Bible as a book of answers, it would be more accurate to say that it is a book of questions – big ones, deep ones, powerful ones. Jesus is always asking questions and being asked them. Some of the questions people ask Jesus are intended to score points or to humiliate this upstart Rabbi with apparently no official religious training. Jesus turns most of these questions back on themselves. That is how Mark 12 begins. But by verses 28-34, there is a consensus on the question of which commandment is the greatest. Jesus says: “You shall love the Lord your God … and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Finally! An answer everyone agrees on. But, sadly, “after that no one dared to ask him anything” (vs. 34). I have always thought these are some of the saddest words in the Bible. The people have Rabbi Jesus right there and they stop asking questions? There are so many questions left to ask. But they lost their nerve. This Sunday we reflect together on “Daring to ask Questions.”

The story of Bartimaeus is a familiar biblical story. Bartimaeus was blind and called out to Jesus for healing. Jesus heard him and responded to his need. What we may not have noticed in this story is that the crowd initially discouraged Bartimaeus from seeking healing. I wonder if there are occasions in our faith journey where we discourage those searching for healing and wholeness? We will explore this theme on Sunday.

Mark’s gospel gets a little jumbled after the story of the Transfiguration at the beginning of Mark 9. There is misunderstanding. Failed healings by the disciples and powerful healings by someone who is not part of the inner circle. Jesus seems to be hiding out from the crowd while he talks to his disciples about welcome. It looks like there is a theme starting about children that stretches into Mark 10. But that theme gets interrupted by some drastic words about cutting off limbs or being “thrown into hell.” Where is this all going? One scholar suggests that the connection is about inclusivity and boundaries – about inviting in and “cutting off.” It makes me wonder about drawing lines. What lines don’t need to be drawn? What lines – for the safety, healing, and peace of others – need to be? The sermon that is evolving feels like a dangerous one. Drawing lines is always dangerous. Lines have consequences. Please join me in the conversation on Mark 9.38-50 this Sunday as think about “drawing lines.”