WHAT ARE YOU ARGUING ABOUT? - A REFLECTION ON MARK 9

“What are you arguing with them about?” - Mark 9:16.

After spending some time on a quiet mountain with three of his closest disciples, not to mention a special appearance by Moses and Elijah, Jesus descends to find an arguing crowd that is made up of his disciples and some teachers of the law.

A desperate father brought his demonically possessed boy to Jesus in order for him to be healed. But Jesus wasn’t there, so the father asked Jesus’ disciples for help. They had been trained and sent out to proclaim the good news of God’s kingdom, including casting out demons, but this boy’s demon wouldn’t leave. And then the argument began.

Mark spares us the details, but we can imagine the teachers of the law were pointing out to Jesus’ disciples that what they were doing would never work and so on. I imagine the disciples defended themselves, talking about how they had done it before. Maybe they even dipped into some version of “whataboutism,” asking when the teachers of the law have ever cast out demons?

When Jesus asks them what they are arguing about none of the disciples or teachers of the law speaks up. But the father does. He explains the situation, to which Jesus seems exasperated. Not with the boy, of course, but everyone else: his disciples, the teachers of the law, and even the father. Jesus asks for the boy and asks the father how long his boy had suffered like this. The father replies the heartbreaking words, “from childhood.”

This father has had to spend years seeing his own flesh and blood suffer daily with a demon who abuses the poor boy to the point of repeatedly trying to kill him. I could never imagine the anguish this father was feeling, knowing that every day he would likely do anything to swap places with his suffering, lost boy. 

And so, having heard of Jesus’ miracles, he takes his son to Jesus to be cured only to find Jesus missing and his disciples impotently arguing. Meanwhile, his son remains trapped. And so the father, perhaps uncomfortable with Jesus’ exasperated silence, or perhaps out of desperate anxiety, blurts out: “If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

Jesus focuses on that first word - *if* - and reminds the father that for one who has faith in full measure, like Jesus does, everything is possible. What sort of faith does the father have?

He has the kind of faith that has lived with daily heartache for years, watching his boy suffer and feeling powerless to do anything about it. He has the faith that had never let go of hope for his son to be healed. He has the faith that, even after seeing Jesus’ disciples fail, prompted him to speak over an angry crowd, pleading for pity on his child. He had the faith that was willing to admit he could use more faith. And so he replies without hesitation: “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief.”

Faith, Hope, and Love

So many preachers and teachers talk about this man’s faith in a vacuum, as if we don’t know the context of his reply. As if we can’t for even a moment imagine what it would be like to see his son suffer for so long and feel helpless. As if he hadn’t, hoping against hope, brought his son to Jesus for a miracle only to be faced with the failure of Jesus’ disciples and then see them devolve into some dumb argument about it. Of course this man had belief. And of course he also had unbelief. And underneath it all he had hope in Jesus. And in response to that hope, shaped as it was with a mixture of belief and unbelief, Jesus heals the father’s boy and commands that the boy not be possessed ever again. 

A little later when in private with his disciples Jesus was asked why the demon wouldn’t come out at first, to which Jesus replied: “this kind can come out only by prayer.”

Think about the scene for a moment. Jesus’ disciples - us - have been given an opportunity to do what we have been called to do. But we tried to do it all on our own without any prayer, without acknowledging our powerlessness before God. Even worse, while someone unjustly suffers right at our feet we get drawn into a petty argument with people who don’t even really care. No wonder Jesus gets annoyed!

But there’s always hope: The desperate father is rewarded for his faith, even if it is a thoroughly human faith full of heartaches, doubts, and wishes. The disciples learn through their failure the importance of prayer and underneath that the importance of relying on God’s strength instead of their own. And the boy, perhaps for the first time since he was a toddler, is finally free. All that lost time will never be back, but what a sweet homecoming the father and son must have had that night as they returned home and, for the boy, to know the place for the first time.

Salt and Light

Some things might be worth arguing about, but next time you are tempted to get into one, consider what poor, hurting, soul might be languishing nearby while you are distracted. At least the father knew to bring his boy to Jesus and his disciples, but imagine if he happened upon an arguing crowd right away. He might have left without even trying to get their attention. Or, even worse, imagine if Jesus and his disciples had the reputation not of healing as they did in the Gospel of Mark, but of always bickering with each other. In that case, the father likely would have stayed home with his boy when Jesus and his disciples came to town.

For good reason, the Bible warns the church repeatedly about the dangers of petty arguments, bitterness, prideful fights. They distract us from the work we are called to do - work that we can only do by God’s strength.

Mark Chapter 9 concludes with Jesus saying: “salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can you make it salty again? Have salt among yourselves and be at peace with each other.”

And so I ask, what are you arguing about?