Grace to you and peace from our loving God, and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Out of the teachings on discipleship that we have been considering in Mark for several weeks now (Mark 8:27 10:52) comes this morning's unusual message. The disciples proudly tell Jesus how they had nipped a budding heresy in their midst. Discovering a man exorcizing demons in Jesus' name, without any official disciple-designation or given authority, they command the healer to stop. The use of the phrase "in your name" suggests a specific reference: The man was practicing a sort of "word magic," invoking Jesus' name to perform healings. Mark's description makes it clear that this man had received no direct authority from Jesus—so it would seem the disciples' reaction might be justified.

But Jesus' response flings wide the doors of discipleship. Jesus includes within his domain individuals his own disciples would never dream of embracing. Some commentators explain Jesus' acceptance of this unknown healer's activities by claiming he must have been one of John the Baptist's disciples, or one of the seventy sent out by Jesus. But the text itself makes no such suggestion. Jesus' only explanation rests in his declaration that "Whoever is not against us is for us" (v.40).

It is not the unauthorized exorcisms that draw Jesus' ire, evoke sharp words, and stir up startling images. The disciples themselves earn the tongue-lashing Jesus offers in verses 42-50 because of their wrong-headed attempts to contain the power of Jesus' name and the deliverance it brings.

Interesting. Again, Jesus responds in exactly the opposite way expected. And here, instead of limiting what might be considered discipleship, instead of guarding the use of his name, he opens it up, legitimizing every disciple who names the name of Jesus.

Isn't it true for us that we want to place limits on what can be considered authentically Christian—or genuinely Lutheran. This is, I know, a small example, but I remember vividly discussing at the congregation I served in Indianapolis whether or not we ought to share the peace during our worship. It took a couple of years to make that decision, and several people talked about leaving the church if we ever added the sign of peace to the service.

I also remember difficult discussions about whether the choir ought to offer anthems that come from African-American traditions-like "There is a Balm in Gilead." I was actually called to the home of some of the more prominent members at the time so that they could convince me how inappropriate and devastating this would be to our worship life. They later left the congregation.

Jesus today speaks words that call us not to question every offering of praise, worship, or service, but to honor them as authentic to the work of the gospel. Discipleship comes in a vast variety of shapes and sizes, interest and intention, offering and oration. All are to be recognized, when given for the sake of Jesus, as genuine, as building up the Body of Christ, and as worthy of praise.

Service to our Lord comes often in new and unexpected ways. Defining who is in and who is out is not for us to do. It is for our Lord.

Simply put, Jesus' words are directed to the community: Let the diversity of gifts express themselves among you, don't put stumbling blocks before the little ones who believe in me. And hear well that these "little ones" are not only children, but the disciples and all the others who are followers of our Lord.

Many in the church think that there must be "gate keepers" guarding the way into the church, and the various traditions of the church, and the particular ways that faith gets expressed. Our Lord today tells us that such practices are not only unimportant, they are in direct opposition to the gospel. To the extent that we prevent people from sharing their gifts and expressions of faith with the community of faith, we prevent our Lord from doing the full work of building the kingdom and the church. All who share their gifts in the name of Jesus do the work of God.

In recent decades, the church has become serious about accessibility in church buildings: ramps and elevators, enhanced hearing systems and sign language, large-print hymnals and braille Bibles. Most of these examples speak to the recent and continuing efforts of this very congregation. Such efforts have removed tangible stumbling blocks that have denied people access to Christian community. They give expression to the words of our Lord in today's scripture.

And we are called again to ask ourselves today: Are there other stumbling blocks that need to be removed?

I read recently that, years ago in a Lutheran church, there was an usher posted at the edge of the sidewalk leading to the doors of that congregation. If a person of color came along, the usher politely directed him or her to the church down the street. That Lutheran church had a different kind of accessibility problem. Indeed, much of the Church has such an accessibility problem, a problem that we are here working to overcome because we know that the gospel suffers because of it.

Jesus might have been exaggerating when he talked about that millstone in today's gospel, but he was absolutely serious when he talked about accessibility to the commonwealth of God. Such access is to be available to all in a way that honors all.

Gate keepers. Accessibility. Honoring the work of our Lord. I remember these being treated by our former Presiding Bishop, H. George Anderson, in a retreat I attended. Bishop Anderson used the book of Revelation to offer his cautions and challenges to the church, focusing on the seven letters to the seven churches that are included in Revelation.

As he did so, he mentioned that Revelation can again be useful to Christians, now that the millennialists and the crazy's are done with it. We heard so much convoluted use of that text just a few years ago—especially as we approached the beginning of the year 2000—that it was hard to recognize it. He gave an example of the kind of twisted logic that is often applied to Revelation.

You've all heard of the mark of the beast—the anti-Christ—"666". Well, he noted some of the historical abuses of that mark. First it had to be Stalin-six letters. Then Hitler. Then that sure winner, Ronald Wilson Reagan (six letters each). Some are now trying to tie it to President Obama. To continue that kind of craziness, and to show us just how inane some of the analysis is, he, with tongue firmly in cheek, suggested that the anti-Christ was Barney. Sure enough, that purple dinosaur's name has six letters. And most assuredly, there are those who love to hate Barney. (My apologies to any offended children among us.)

Then he extended the example. Barney, as we all know, is a cute purple dinosaur. Now if you take the words "Cute Purple Dinosaur" and think of them in the context of Roman numerals, making the "u's" into "v's", as the Romans do, and eliminating all the letters that are not Roman numerals, you are left with "CVVLDIV". The D in Roman numerals is 500, the C is 100, the L is 50, three V's and an I is 16. That adds us to 666. Barney, then, must be the anti-Christ.

You see his point. It is absurd beyond belief. And yet, if you read some of the crazy commentaries on Revelation—or hear television preachers playing with the text, you will recognize the convoluted logic and silly games that get foisted on the public in connection with this book. It is, indeed, time for Christians to reclaim Revelation as a book of hope and challenge to the church.

So much for the side-trip into Revelation and its uses. Where Bishop Anderson came out after he worked through the first few chapters was with two big issues for the church, which reflect those addressed by John of Patmos to those seven churches in Revelation.

The first is the danger that we will lose our concern for the poor. He noted that there is a gradual holocaust among the poor in our nation. And that our culture is rapidly being acculturated to an understanding of the poor that blames the poor for their own lot. Making reference to the thousands of hard-working, church-going, Lutheran farmers in the Midwest who are losing their family farms, our bishop expressed the hope that their failures to make ends meet and their mass fall into poverty may finally convince us that poverty is not the fault of those who become poor. The causes of poverty are systemic; they are far beyond the control of any individual. And the church needs to become more interested and involved in addressing the problems with the system that encourage poverty and perpetuate it.

The virus-like growth of this thought about the poor-that their lot is self-made-is insidious. It is like a man who loved teaching. He studied and became a teacher. Then he went on to become an assistant professor, and his work was highly valued so that he was promoted to the position of associate professor and then full professor. After some years he was named provost, and later president. And then he died and went to Hell. And he didn't notice because the change had been so gradual.

The humor is perhaps a bit too academic, but the message is clear. We are being led incrementally, insidiously, in our culture to ignore or to hate poor people. We are being slowly convinced away from the clear calls of the book we call Holy, and the soul of the church is being forfeit in the process.

It is interesting, for example, that polls have demonstrated that the American people will consistently pay for two things: entertainment and therapy. Self rules, whereas in the time that Revelation was written, it was emperor worship that was most troubling. Now it is our worship of self.

So long as we blame the poor for their problems, and so long as we can move out of those places where we are confronted daily by people who are poor, and so long as we can attend church in the rich suburbs, and so long as we can keep the poor from coming in to our churches and sitting in "our" pews, we can convince ourselves that there is no need for us to share our wealth. Perhaps another function of the gate keeping our Lord inveighs against in this morning's gospel is that of avoiding the guilt that might come with the presence of one who challenges the way we think or act or worship.

The other chief danger for the church is our loss of our sense of outreach. Another gate keeping issue, it occurs to me.

We increasingly think and believe that people's spiritual life is their own business. We feel that we are intruding on the holy when we dare to speak of our own faith to someone else. We might offend. We might trample their sense of self.

Where then, one might ask, is our passion for Christ? When we have no sense of the infinite and eternal value of our own faith, we have no care to challenge the faith of another.

But what we do here—in the church and in the world—we believe, has eternal consequences. Nothing less than our relationship with God is somehow established here. How can we not be passionate about sharing the inestimable benefits of our faith with those around us?

We are saved by grace, but institutions are saved by mission. Where we have no passion for mission, where we have become gate keepers by virtue of locking the doors to anyone who might come in and discover the great treasures of the gospel, we remain isolated, wither, and die.

And so, may we take this word to heart. Let us continue with confidence the path that we have begun together, sharing our faith, serving the poor, and offering welcome to all people in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

May the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep our hearts and minds through faith in Christ Jesus our Lord unto eternal life. Amen.