"Holy Tattletales" by Rev. Jillian Hankamer, 2/16/2025

A sermon for Northminster Church

Mark 9: 38-50

We’re going to start this morning with some congregational participation. I’d like for you to be honest, even if it’s a little uncomfortable, and I would like to assure you from the outset that no matter how many times you raise your hand in the next few minutes, no one here will judge you. You’re likely to be in very good company.

So, please raise your hand if, in your time as a parent, you ever said something along the lines of: “No one likes a tattle tale?”

Please raise your hand if you’ve had to say the same thing in your role as a grandparent.

Raise your hand if you had to say this to your child on more than one occasion.

Please raise your hand if you have a sibling who tattled on you when you were a child, and you still remember getting in trouble.

Raise your hand if you remember tattling on someone in your childhood.

Raise your hand if you’ve been a tattletale at some point in your adulthood.

 Thank you, you may put your hands down.

             One of the first lessons we learn in childhood is, “No one likes a tattletale.” As an only child, I had no one to tattle on in my childhood, but my best friend had a little sister who seemed to delight in tattling on both of us. Although I rarely got in trouble as I was the guest in the house, both my best friend, Amanda, and her sister, Andrea, were routinely punished in situations of tattling. Amanda for whatever she’d done to make Andrea tattle, and Andrea for being a tattletale. I shudder to think how many times Missy, Amanda, and Andrea’s mom had to have the “No one likes a tattletale” conversation with the three of us.

             And although the lesson eventually stuck, I can’t honestly say I’ve never tattled on anyone as an adult. I don’t know that any of us can because there’s something very human about wanting someone who’s slighted you to be called out for it. The number of resources I saw this week for dealing with office tattletales, while surprising in their commonality, reinforces that such behavior doesn’t end in childhood. In fact, such behavior spans the millennia, as the disciples in this morning’s gospel lesson are the definition of tattletales.

             To put this story in context within the text, it’s also important to know that this section of Mark reflects conflicts happening in the early church. Mark is “framing this part of the narrative, in other words, to address some of the problems his folks are having with other Christians.”^[1] From not being united in their beliefs to berating each other over differences in religious practice, Mark’s church is struggling with the same thing the disciples are: protecting their identity.

             John goes to Jesus to tell him about the person the disciples unsuccessfully attempted to stop healing people of demons because “he was not following us.”

He is not one of us, Jesus.

He doesn’t know the rules of the group.

He hasn’t had to give up everything to follow you.

We tried to stop him.

             If this sounds like a classic example of tattletelling – in which the motivation is to get the “other” in trouble and situate the authority figure on your side – you’re hearing the long, whiny echo of an upset man. As commentator David Lose says, John’s words as “more complaint than observation, and perhaps even more accusation than complaint…”^[2] What he’s after is Jesus’ affirmation of “the disciples … judgment and action against this other follower because he was not playing by their rules or following their lead.”

             In other words, the disciples have decided who they are and what the criteria are for being part of their group. As the leaders of this fledgling movement, John and the other disciples clearly consider themselves the inner circle to be obeyed by lesser disciples who don’t know or follow Jesus with the same level of commitment. John’s concern about this non-follower healing people is not for the people being healed, for the non-follower, or even for Jesus.

             His concern is for himself and the other disciples. To maintain their place, their identity, their role within this group. That might sound self-centered, because to a certain extent it was, but keep in mind the totality of the commitment these men made to Jesus and this movement. Even though it’s clear they don’t understand where Jesus is headed and they surely can’t fathom what their role will be in forming a religious community that’s continued for millennia, I hesitate to completely disregard John and the other disciples’ feelings because they are committed to Jesus.

             This commitment, however, doesn’t negate their competitiveness and desire for favor. Ironically, John’s tattling happens almost immediately after the disciples are unable to heal a boy possessed by an evil spirit and after Jesus scolds them for arguing about which one of them is the greatest. With pride still stinging, the disciples turn to Jesus in this story for reassurance that an outsider will not be allowed to do the kinds of things he’s entrusted them to do. What they don’t understand is that, as Harry B. Adams notes, “preserving the power of his own group [is] not a priority for Jesus. If good [is] being done by others, their actions [are] to be affirmed.”^[3]

             Ched Myers offers the perspective that “the arrogance in John's objection lies in its attempt to erect boundaries around the exercise of compassionate ministry ‘in the name of Jesus.’ He equates exorcism with the accrual of status and power, and wishes to maintain a monopoly over it…”^[4] He goes on to say that,

“John is worried about those with competing power, but Jesus is welcoming all those who work for mercy and justice. John is entertaining ‘holier than thou’ delusions, but Jesus points out how his followers will often find themselves on the receiving end of compassion. In other words, disciples have no corner on the ministry of healing and liberation, and therefore should without prejudice work alongside those whose practice is redemptive.”^[5]

             One of my favorite movies is Jesus Christ Superstar. I’m sure my appreciation for this Andrew Lloyd Webster, Tim Rice rock opera comes from finding it at a time in my early teens when I was asking lots of questions about my faith. The character of Judas is captivating to me, and as a teenager, I fell in love with the guitar-heavy music, 70s-tastic fringed clothing and bellbottoms, and the racially diverse cast. Superstar asks interesting theological questions and offers perspectives from biblical characters that aren’t available anywhere else, and watching Superstar is part of my annual Holy Week practice. Several years ago, I had my watch Superstar and Godspell during Lent, and though they found both musicals odd and a bit confusing, I still love Superstar and have large chunks of the soundtrack memorized. Including the song the disciples sing at the Last Supper. As Jesus confronts Judas over the latter’s betrayal and encourages him to leave and finish his mission, the rest of the disciples sit placidly at the Supper table and sing:

             Look at all my trials and tribulations             Sinking in a gentle pool of wine             Don't disturb me now; I can see the answers             Till 'this evening' is 'this morning', life is fine             Always hoped that I'd be an apostle             Knew that I would make it if I tried             Then when we retire we can write the gospels             So they'll still talk about us when we've died

             My friends, despite what our society tells us, the goal of faith is not winning or someday becoming so elite as to be an apostle.  The goal of faith is not to be on the inside while others are made to stay outside the group. The goal of faith isn’t comparing ourselves to other Christ-followers to gauge our acceptability to God or our effectiveness in being the hands and feet of Jesus.

             The mistake John and the other disciples make in this passage is assuming that as disciples they are the only ones who can continue the good work of Jesus, when in actuality, Jesus' message is, “anyone who’s not against us is for us.” A good thing done in Jesus' name is still a good thing, even if the person carrying it out doesn’t believe the way we do or doesn’t believe at all. The power of God to effect change isn’t nullified by the person God chooses to work within. The goodness of God is the goodness of God, period.

             Our identity as Christ-followers is not lessened or cheapened by those who don’t share our exact beliefs because, as David Lose so beautifully says, Christian identity,

It “isn’t something you can attain, but only receive as a gift. And one of the primary reasons Jesus came was to tell us that we are beloved, holy, precious,      and honored in God’s eye so that we might also hear ourselves called to lives of love, mercy, compassion, and service. The cross, in other words, was not            the vehicle by which Jesus made it possible for God to love us, but rather was God’s message through Jesus that we were and are loved all along.”

             The temptation to be a tattletale, even a holy one, will be present for each of us at some point. Eventually, you’ll want to say to God, “Hey, I have to be doing a better job than her!” “Surely I’m more faithful than him!” “At least we don’t believe that crazy thing those people believe!” In those moments, remember this morning’s good news: faith is not about winning or being the best, but about accepting that our identity as children of God is given freely as a gift from the one who loves us even when we’re tattletales.

^[1] David Lose, “Pentecost 18 B: Who Are You?” from davidlose.net, September 22, 2015. https://www.davidlose.net/2015/09/pentecost-18-b-who-are-you/

^[2] Ibid.

^[3] Harry B. Adams “Proper 21: Mark 9: 38-50, Pastoral Perspective,” from Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary Year B, Volume 4. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, 2009. Pg 118.

^[4] Ched Myers quoted by Travis Meier, “Mark 9: 38-50” from The Bartimaeus Effect, February 2, 2015. https://www.thebartimaeuseffect.com/the-gospel-of-mark/mark-938-50

^[5] Ibid.