Insiders and Outsiders

One of the rather perplexing things about Mark’s gospel is that so often it appears to conceal and reveal all at the same time. When Jesus tells parables early in the gospel, the disciples ask him why his teaching is so mysterious and perplexing. He says, ‘To you has been given the mystery (or secret) of the kingdom, but to those outside everything is in parables.’

‘To those outside’ – the little community of followers gathered around Jesus appear to have created a world of insiders and outsiders. It is a world which is instantly familiar to us – particularly in a University town like this, where so many people suffer from ‘imposter syndrome’, never quite sure whether they are an insider or an outsider. But if you think that Mark’s gospel simply reinforces that distinction between insiders and outsiders, then think again. And it’s here that we come to the gospel reading for today. It’s a curious passage. It follows one of the predictions of Christ’s passion and it consists of a short series of logia or sayings, which at first sight appear to be rather unconnected and somewhat random. But they are all sayings about the character of Christian discipleship, and the curious thing is that in these sayings Jesus is at pains to subvert that distinction between insiders and outsiders which we saw earlier in the gospel.

‘Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us’. John is scandalised that this outsider is taking the Lord’s name in vain. But Jesus says: ‘Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterwards to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us’.

‘Whoever is not against us is for us’. There is a freedom about these words that the contemporary church needs to hear again. So often the church in its public pronouncements appears to be embattled and beleaguered, always on the defensive. But ‘whoever is not against us is for us’. Rather than thinking of the world outside as hostile, Jesus reminds us that we should be attentive to the genuine goodness, the virtue and kindness, of those who would seek to support the life of the church, even though they may be puzzled by its teachings or alarmed by its eccentricities. Jesus reminds us that we should be generous in our judgements about others, always willing to reach out to the stranger and to welcome those who may be different or whose lives might shock or surprise us, always ready to give thanks for the generosity of others: ‘For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by by means lose their reward’.

But then Jesus goes on to say, ‘If any of you put a stumbling-block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea…’ The passage takes on a rather sombre tone – and it succeeds in subverting that distinction between insiders and outsiders with which I began – because at this point Jesus is not addressing the outsiders but the insiders. He is reminding us that we need a penitent church rather than a defensive church, a church that is willing to acknowledge the mistakes of the past and indeed of the present, a church that is willing to accept scrutiny and accountability, a church that recognises that penitence leads not simply to judgement but to forgiveness and reconciliation.

And then we have these curious sayings about salt. Jesus says, ‘For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.’

Now this passage has caused some confusion over the centuries, but the question we must ask is this: what has ‘salt’ got to do with Christian discipleship? Of course, there are a number of ways of thinking about salt, some of which may be more helpful than others. Some might think of salt in terms of ‘purity’ – when I go to France on holiday, not far away is the Ile de Re, famous for its sea salt. Some of it is white with an almost luminous quality, some of it is grey full of all sorts of interesting minerals. Of course, there are Christians who think of discipleship in terms of purity, but if the context here is anything to go by, with all this stuff about insiders and outsiders, then the concept of purity is almost certainly not what is uppermost in Mark’s mind.

Others may think of salt in terms of ‘taste’, something to add a bit of flavour. Of course, ‘good taste’ covers a multitude of sins, but it is characterised by a certain moderation. Use too little or too much salt and the food will taste terrible. So our discipleship is characterised by a certain moderation. It’s the wisdom which says that the truth is in the middle, don’t go overboard, hold your horses, wear navy blue. I had a colleague once in Sheffield who was convinced that the Church of England would rather die of ‘good taste’. But then such a perspective sits rather uneasily with our gospel reading today about tearing out eyes and cutting off limbs.

Others may think of salt in terms of a ‘preservative’. Lets make sure that we hold onto everything which is good – and pickle it. This of course is a perennial temptation of Church life. We must keep things the same. The faith was once delivered to the saints, and there can be no deviation, no development, no change. And yet, we believe in a God who says, ‘Behold, I make all things new’. If Christian discipleship is simply caked in a preservative, then we will never be able to respond to this call. As John Henry Newman once said, ‘To live is to change, and to change often is to become more perfect’. When we are faithful to a tradition, we are engaged in a risky business because such fidelity entails active engagement in a process of continual change. That is what ‘conversion of life’ means.

Others may think of salt in terms of ‘safety’. Salt is something you spread on the road. And yet if faith and discipleship are simply about ensuring that everything remains neat and tidy in our own particularly comfort zone, we will lose something of the challenge, the riskiness and the sheer adventure of faith.

So, we can look at this passage and think in terms of purity, good taste, preservative, safety – none of them are terribly satisfactory. But then a few years ago, I was working on early commentary on Mark’s gospel and stumbled across a rather different way of thinking of this passage. For these early commentators, ‘salt’ was a generic term that covered all sorts of different compounds. And one of the principle uses of ‘salt’ in the ancient world was as fertiliser. Now I wonder if that is a more helpful way of thinking about this passage. Fertiliser restores and replenishes the tired earth, it replenishes it, it encourages new growth, it stimulates growth and change. So when Jesus says ‘Have salt in yourselves’, perhaps he is reminding us that we too can be agents of creativity, growth and change. Perhaps suddenly this curious passage connects with all those parables about the mystery of the kingdom in Mark, seeds growing silently, sowers sowing liberally. Perhaps this enables us to respond more faithfully to the God who says, ‘Behold, I make all things new’.