In Mark 4:35-41 a nature miracle leads to a question about Jesus’ identity.  Healings and exorcisms did not raise issues of identity, because healers and exorcists were not uncommon in Jesus’ time.  Even the disciples are given the authority to cast out demons in 6:13.  By contrast, an individual who could command nature “the wind the sea,” would demand particular attention.  At that time, people thought that such authority over nature, especially something as unpredictable and uncontrollable as water, was unique to God (Psalm 89:9).  The term “rebuke” — reserved elsewhere in Mark for places of spiritual dissonance (see Mark 1:25; 9:25; cf. 8:32-33) — suggests that this is some sort of “spiritual” conflict.

Interestingly in the gospel of Mark, Jesus reserves nature miracles only for his close followers.  People in the “other boats” were apparently unaware, although they too experienced the storm.  Why?  An answer is not readily apparent.  It may have something to do with Jesus’ earlier commands to silence.  Jesus is not willing to reveal his true identity to many.

Jesus’ ability to command natural forces brings about a condemnation of the disciples, whose lack of faith becomes apparent.  Among the synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke, the sharpest conflict between Jesus and the disciples occurs in Mark.  Only in Mark is the disciples’ question so harsh.  They exclaim, “Teacher, do you not care . . . ?”  Also, only in Mark does Jesus charge the disciples with having “no faith,” as opposed to “little faith” in Matthew (see Matthew 8:26).  The central question of the passage appears to be: if Jesus’ closest followers misunderstand who he is, how will others ever understand him?

Far too often we become  the prisoners or victims of the perceptions of others.  When we do something unexpected — something we are not supposed to be capable of doing — conflict usually follows.  This is indicated in the gospel text from Mark by the disciples’ response: they are filled with great fear (a literal rendering of the Greek of the passage).  The preacher Otis Moss highlights this well in his sermon, “Going from Grace to Dignity,” when he says, “I see a black and white parallel here.  As long as we were struggling in the cotton fields of Tennessee, Georgia, Alabama and Mississippi with our cotton sacks across our shoulders and to our sides, picking cotton and having our fingers burning from stinging cotton worms that would hide under the cotton leaves; as long as we were barefoot, actually and symbolically, laughing when we were not tickled . . . America was satisfied . . . But one day America saw us marching to the voting booth, sitting down at lunch counters, and all of America became afraid.”

Something similar, it can be argued, has happened with the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender community in the United States.  As long as we remained in the closet, hiding our identities, pretending to be “confirmed bachelors” and such, “America was satisfied.”  Like Jesus, when LGBT people begin to reveal their identities, take command of the circumstances around them, act out of the authority and dignity given them by God, then they may see those around them — even those closest to them — respond with great fear.

	When has simply being “out” as LGBT people conjured up fear among others?  What is the evidence and results of such fear?

By contrast to the Gospel reading, the story from 1 Samuel 17:57-18:5 speaks of the love that can develop between two individuals, even those of the same gender, when one individual accepts another for who he or she is.  Jonathan’s love for David is renowned.  Many have suggested that the description in the Bible is a sanitized presentation of their relationship.  Whatever the true nature of the relationship between Jonathan and David, the story does remind us of what is possible when people move past the fear that can often accompany a “miraculous” deed, such as killing a great warrior like Goliath.

In 2 Corinthians 6:1-13 the apostle Paul exhorts the Corinthians to “widen your hearts also” (6:13).  Paul cites Isaiah 49:8 in 6:2 to associate reconciliation with salvation.  Salvation is not merely about individual deliverance.  It is about communal reconciliation.  Through Christ’s ministry of self-denial for the well-being of others, God is reconciling the entire world — all of humanity — and not merely individuals.  He uses the passage from Isaiah to emphasize both the urgency of the situation and the present rather than the future nature of salvation.

Repeatedly in this letter, Paul challenges the cultural values the Corinthians appear to esteem.  Throughout, Paul criticizes his opponents for advancing themselves and claiming apostolic authority based on outward signs of power and glory.  He implies that ministries that claim divine authority based on appearances of success are flawed and can prevent access to salvation. 

This should cause us to question the validity of some of the most popular Christian movements in the United States.  Having thousands of followers is not the same as having validity in ministry, nor does “numbers of followers” point to words of reconciliation when the words are those of division.  LGBT persons should rightly question the authenticity of Christian churches, organizations, and para-church ministries that claim authority — in the name of Christ — to oppress and silence those whom they deem to be less than human.  This is not to say that sincere persons of faith cannot disagree.  However, absolute certainty has never been the mark of a Christian understanding of revelation.  As the theologian, Schubert Ogden, has said quite pointedly, “the New Testament itself in no way warrants the assumption that God’s revelation in Jesus Christ consists primarily in communicating supernatural knowledge” [On Theology (Dallas: Southern Methodist University Press, 1992), 31].

	In your own faith how do you know what is “true” – especially about God’s embrace of LGBT people?  How do you deal with differences and opposition from others about the “truth?”

Christianity, much like the American Revolution, started with an event.  In both cases, the implications and consequences of those events continue to be worked out by fallible human beings seeking to be faithful to what they mean for our existence as human beings and for society.

An unwavering commitment to the ministry of reconciliation is what Paul considers to be the mark of genuine Christian ministry.  Although it may be difficult to remain faithful in afflictions and hardships — “as dying, and behold we live; as punished, and yet not killed” (verse 9) — the virtues of Christian ministry are revealed by the commitment demonstrated in such adversity.  Paul argues that when it comes to evaluating the validity of a ministry, it is these commitments, not the outward and lauded appearances of success, that are worthy of commendation.

	Out of your own prayerful reflection, what are the true signs of valid ministry?

Mark 5:21-43 relates two stories as if they occurred simultaneously, a technique biblical scholars call intercalation.  The author intends for readers to interpret one story in light of the other.  After instigating a “Gentile mission,” Jesus is challenged by the presence of a crowd.  In an interesting twist, Jairus, “a ruler of the synagogue,” seeks the assistance of Jesus.  This strongly suggests that not all of the Jewish leadership oppose Jesus.  Still, while on his way to Jairus’ house, an unnamed woman — someone quite different than the established religious leader — arrives on the scene secretly seeking Jesus’ assistance as well.

	In this narrative two stories are intertwined.  In what ways are the narratives of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people intertwined with others in distress?

Given the social dynamics of the day, she is a “bodacious,” audacious woman.  The biblical scholar Mary Ann Tolbert describes the scene in this way: “That a woman, who at least at one time had some wealth (5:26), should be seen in such a public place evidently unaccompanied by protectors and that she should dare to touch a strange man without his consent are extraordinary events in an ancient cultural context” [“Mark,” in Women’s Bible Commentary, ed. Carol Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe, (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox, 1992), 355.].  Nevertheless, since her condition cut her off from the religious community and greatly diminished her financial stability (cf. Lev 15:25-30), this woman may have felt she had no other choice than to act boldly. 

Audacious actions have a long history among marginalized populations.  Phyllis Wheatley’s published poems were scrutinized by Thomas Jefferson, Voltaire, and other white maleintellectuals of the time.  With the advent of the HIV/AIDS crisis, the group ACT UP challenged the complacence of American society about the disease.  Sojourner Truth, the famous abolitionist, once proclaimed, “Afterward I told the Lord I wanted another name, ‘cause everybody else had two names; and the Lord gave me Truth, because I was to declare the Truth to the people” [quoted in Can I Get a Witness? Prophetic Religious Voices of African American Women, Marcia Riggs & Barbara Holmes, eds., (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1997), 21].  What this story highlights is the need for individuals, particularly those on the fringes of the accepted social order, to act boldly on their own behalves.  As Martin Luther King, Jr. also pointed out, “We know through painful experience that freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.” (“Letter from the Birmingham City Jail,” in Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, James Washington, ed. (New York: HarperOne, 1990), 292].  For a marginalized group of individuals, the only option many times is to come out of the shadows — out of the closet — and press for liberation.

Just as the unnamed woman “knew” changes in her body, so Jesus “knew” changes in his body.  The drying up of her blood flow — the cessation of her discharge — is due to the “discharge” of Jesus’ power (Greek, dynamis).  No one else, including Jesus’ disciples, understands or recognizes what has transpired.  Not even Jesus is fully aware of the recipient of this dynamis.  So he stops in the middle of the crowd in order to find out.  Out of her “fear” (5:33) the woman comes forward to reveal the “truth.”  Mark reserves the term truth only for Jesus — who “teaches the way of God in accordance with the truth” (12:14) — and for this woman, the first woman to speak in Mark’s gospel.  “Daughter,” a familial term meant to highlight one whose blood cut her off from family, “your faith has made you well!”

	In what ways do marginalized people, much like the woman, speak truth to those who are willing to listen?

Jesus then continues his journey to Jairus’ house.  The delay, to “heal” and “converse” with the unnamed woman, leads to a disturbance from Jairus’ household. While Jesus is speaking “good news” to the daring woman whose “faith” had made her well, bad news arrives: “Your daughter is dead.  Why trouble the teacher any further?” (5:35).   Jesus’ reaction to this news remind us of a black gospel tune, “God may not come when you call him, but he’ll be there right on time!”  Jesus’ progress is not hindered by this report.  He challenges Jairus to hold on to his faith.  He tells the beleaguered father, “Do not fear, only believe” (5:36).  Jairus’ faith is what led him to Jesus, the healer, in the first place.

While the story ends with ekstasei (ecstasy), Jesus makes an important request of food for the now raised girl.  Food suggests a holistic mission that cares for all needs — spiritual, physical, psychological, emotional and even political.  This twelve-year-old daughter of Jairus was born in the same year when the older woman began her incessant bleeding.  Both are now healed in the same year.

	Can you point to places in your life where audacious action has led to amazing, even extraordinary, results?

In 2 Corinthians 8:7-15 the apostle raises the issue of generosity: “For you know the generous act of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that by his poverty you might become rich” (verse 9).  It is interesting that Paul frequently referred to the Corinthians’ offering with the Greek term charis (usually translated “grace” in English).  The financial support of Christians on behalf of poorer sisters and brothers is an act of grace analogous to the grace that God has extended to all of us in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

The apostle depicts giving as an act of ministry.  It is not simply an act of charity.  This notion of ministry is important, because ministry is an ongoing way of living, not a one-time event.  The ministry of giving is an expression of solidarity.  Through the ministry of giving, we enter into solidarity with those in need.  We acknowledge that those in need are our brothers and sisters and that we join with them in the effort to overcome their need.  Something analogous is intoned in David’s lamentation for Jonathan in 2 Samuel 1:1, 17-27.  Although David did not give anything like money to Jonathan, the reading does highlight his solidarity to the son of Saul.  “I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women” (verse 26).

	If giving is an act of solidarity, then how does your giving express your solidarity to the cause of LGBT liberation?

At the heart of solidarity is the notion of justice. Therefore, the ministry of giving is about justice, not simply charity. Christians in the United States tend to understand giving as charity rather than justice, because Americans are much better at practicing charity than they are at enacting justice. The American response to national and international tragedy illustrates our willingness to sacrifice for the sake of charity, but the almost insurmountable chasm between the “haves” and the “have nots,” the marginalized and the privileged, the accepted and the unacceptable demonstrates the reluctance of Americans to sacrifice for the sake of justice. Thus, how much and to what causes we give is a statement regarding our commitments, our solidarity to those who need our assistance.