☊ According to my porch thermometer, it dropped to 57 degrees last week. I don’t know about you, but after the sizzling summer we’ve had, I felt like I had a new lease on life. Stepping outside in the morning and being hit by the crisp, cool air prompted a reflexive deep breath. It even smelled like fall–a hint of pumpkin spice on the breeze, perhaps? But it being September in Arkansas, I knew this lovely weather wouldn’t last long, so I decided to make the most of this gift from God. I threw open the windows, propped the doors wide, brewed some coffee to sip on the back porch, and even dusted off my Solo Stove.
I don’t know if you’re familiar with these stainless steel marvels, but last spring I saw one too many float through my Instagram feed and I couldn’t resist. A Solo Stove is basically a fancy fire pit that burns super clean, which means less smoke. The full-sized versions are perfect for your yard, bringing that camping vibe to your neighborhood. There’s also a small version made for tabletops, and this is the kind I have.
Knowing I was on borrowed time with that 57-degree morning, I quickly loaded my Solo Stove with wood chips and lit it up. Once everything was set, I kicked back, propped my feet up to warm them by the stove, and slowly sipped my coffee. It was perfect—at least for about five minutes. Then, to my surprise, the lovely, smokeless flame from my fancy stove started to grow. One foot, two feet, three feet high! Had I had overloaded the wood chips in my rush to create the perfect moment? The thing is, my porch has a roof, which limits the fun you can have with a Solo Stove, and I was getting dangerously close to that limit!
I’m sure you know the feeling–when you’ve started a fire and it begins to burn just a bit beyond your control. Maybe an ember jumps out of the fire ring and catches some pine needles, or you’re sautéing something on the stove and a bit of grease flares up. Suddenly, panic sets in, and your mind races to the worst-case scenario: “I’m going to burn down my porch… or worse, my house! My wife is going to be so mad!”
So, I bid farewell to my peaceful moment, climbed up on the table, and reached above the flame to see if it was hot enough to sear the ceiling. To my great relief, I seemed to be in the clear. Three feet high was its max. And, as the flame slowly descended a couple of inches, I looked around sheepishly to see if anyone had witnessed my little embarrassing mishap. I seemed to be in the clear on that front too. The fire was contained, and so was my secret.
In our readings this morning from the Letter of James and the Gospel of Mark, we come across the themes of fire and secrets. It’s interesting to think about how revealing one can sometimes lead to the spreading of the other.
James reminds us that words have the incredible power to inspire or destroy. He advises teachers to be cautious with their words, as they can cause harm rather than uplift others. He writes, “How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire,” adding that “the tongue is a fire.” In today’s reading from Mark, this theme echos in the exchange between Jesus and his disciples, where Peter was dangerously close to igniting a blaze of his own.
“Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, ‘Who do people say that I am?’ And they answered him, ‘John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.’ He asked them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Peter answered him, ‘You are the Messiah.’ And [Jesus] sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.”
This intriguing aspect of the Gospel of Mark is referred to as the “messianic secret,” and recurs throughout the text. At least three times before this passage, Jesus instructs individuals to keep his true identity hidden. Unclean spirits recognize who Jesus is after being cast out, and Jesus also asks witnesses of his healings not to reveal what they have seen. Scholars do not agree on the reasons behind Jesus’ insistence on maintaining this secrecy, but several theories have been proposed.
The idea of a messiah was complex at the time, and the likely popular expectation was that this person would rise to political power through military might. Maybe Jesus didn’t want to be painted with that brush. Other scholars see the “secret” as a literary device used by Mark to build tension in the narrative. And others maintain that it serves to illustrate the gradual process of understanding that the disciples were going through.
It’s possible that all of these ideas hold some truth. I think it makes sense that Jesus wanted time to shape his own image of the messiah. He probably didn’t want the powers that be pushing him toward the cross before he had the chance to demonstrate what his crucifixion would truly mean. It was to be the ultimate demonstration of his love for the world—the culmination of his compassion for all. He had healed, washed, and fed so many, and he would now show that his care for them extended even to the grave and beyond. But he needed the chance to build his case. A few verses later Jesus asks that his identity as the messiah not be revealed until he had risen from the dead. Only then would people begin to understand. While Peter may be aware of Jesus’ fiery secret, it would be wise to keep it contained for now.
There are a number of directions we could take this metaphor as we consider its implications for us today. Two thousand years after Jesus’ death and resurrection there are over 2 billion Christians in the world. Clearly the secret got out and a fire began to spread. Small towns in the south, like Batesville, have more churches per capita than any other region in the US. And yet…why does it sometimes feel like we’re still keeping Jesus’ secret, that we’re still containing the fire? Despite the proliferation of believers, we still live in a world that equates messiahship with power, dominance, and victory. Value and praise is lavished upon the biggest, the best, and the strongest, while the least, the lost, and the lonely continue to suffer among us.
Letting a fire spread can be a bit daunting, and the consequences are serious—like your porch going up in flames! But if Jesus’ secret truly ignites us, it invites us to take a good look at our lives and values. We are prompted to reflect on our communities, our corporations, and our commitments, making positive changes where we can. It’s about advocating for compassion and peace, showing that being a messiah means embracing sacrifice over success. When we let Jesus’ secret out, we become that flame, reaching out to touch as many lives as possible!
I want to conclude with a quote. Abba Joseph, a fourth-century Christian monk, put it well when counseling a fellow monk in what it means to truly follow Jesus:
Abba Lot visited Abba Joseph and said, “Abba, I do my best to perform my small duties, I fast a bit, I pray and reflect, I strive for peace, and I try to keep my thoughts pure. What more can I do?” The old man then stood up, raised his hands to the sky, and his fingers appeared like ten lamps of fire. He replied, “If you will, you can become all flame.”
It’s time to share the “messianic secret.” It’s time to become “all flame” ourselves, and spread the Good News of Jesus Christ anew.
Proper 19, Year B