Seventeenth Sunday after Pentecost
- Sep 20, 2015
- 5 min read
Mark 9: 30-37
The disciples do not come off well in this morning’s Gospel story.
Just like in last week’s Gospel story,
Jesus tells them that the path ahead for him isn’t going to easy.
That it’s going to include betrayal, suffering, and even death.
But also, after being killed, that he will rise again.
Even though Jesus has been saying these things again and again to the disciples,
they still don’t understand what he’s talking about.
And they’re too afraid to ask him to explain.
Maybe they’re too ashamed to ask.
It is not one of their shining moments.
And as if this isn’t bad enough,
Jesus catches them having an argument about which of them is the greatest.
Here they are, the very people that Jesus has handpicked to be his disciples,
full of insecurities,
sizing one another up,
hungering for power.
competing for prestige.
I have to say, I love the fact that Mark,
who wrote this Gospel story,
chose to include these details about the disciples.
You know, he could’ve edited this part of the story out.
He could’ve polished up the disciples so they’d be squeaky clean saints.
Perfect examples of faith for the rest of us.
But instead, what we get is a glimpse of people who were very much human.
I find it comforting.
After all, if we’re honest, who among us hasn’t acted like the disciples before?
Who among us hasn’t felt insecure?
Who hasn’t compared themselves to others?
Or hungered for power or prestige?
Maybe you haven’t, but I can tell you I certainly have.
I catch myself doing it more often than I would like to admit.
And never is the temptation worse for me than when I’m around other clergy.
Get a bunch of priests in a room,
with a few glasses of wine,
and it is incredibly easy to start sizing one another up.
If only my congregation was a big as her’s!
If only my church had as much money as his does!
If only I had as much charisma as she does!
If only my sermons were as carefully composed and rehearsed as his are!
No, I am certainly not immune from insecurities,
or even from hungering for power and prestige.
It’s a comforting to know that Jesus calls such people as the disciples and me,
such human people,
to follow him and even to be leaders in the church.
It’s comforting to know he sees such potential in us, despite our flaws.
It’s comforting to know that he never tires of being patient with us,
and of showing us another way.
It’s this way, this other way,
that Jesus calls his disciples back to in the Gospel story today
when he says to them:
“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”
Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.
This couldn’t be further from the petty,
power-hungry,
prestige-seeking posturing of the disciples.
Last of all and servant of all?
This is not what you’d call a roadmap for upward mobility!
It sounds like more of a roadmap for downward mobility!
And in fact, that is exactly what it is.
The Greek word for servant that Mark uses is diakonos.
It referred to someone who served meals.
Who prepared a place for others.
It’s the word from which we get our word deacon.
As some of you may know, in the church,
one of the roles of a deacon is to model being a servant.
This is why deacons set the altar for the Eucharist.
To show us what being a servant looks like.
In the Gospel,
Jesus tells the disciples that they are called to be servants.
And not only servants, he says,
but servants of all.
The lowest in the rank of all the servants—
the one who would only eat what was left after everyone had eaten their fill.
Now, I don’t think Jesus is saying we’re called to be self-effacing.
Or that we should spend all our time groveling in the dirt.
I also don’t think he’s saying we shouldn’t try our best,
or that we shouldn’t try to be successful in life.
I think what he’s saying is that as his followers,
our motive should be service to others.
In whatever we do,
we should strive to be servants,
to be like those who prepare the table
and who welcome others to it.
Jesus doesn’t stop here.
He says more about what it means to be called as servants.
He takes a child in his arm, and says,
“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me,
and whoever welcomes me, welcomes not me,
but the one who sent me.”
As people who live in United States in the 21st century,
the real thrust of what Jesus is saying here might be lost on us.
It’s easy for us to see Jesus embracing a child,
and to think he’s just being cute or cuddly.
But in the ancient world,
children didn’t have the same status as we give them today.
In the ancient world, children had about the same social standing as slaves.
Until they could work and contribute to the economy of a household,
they weren’t even seen as full human beings.
In other words, along with slaves, and women for that matter,
they were at the bottom of the barrel.
And it is such as these that Jesus called his disciples to welcome.
It is to such as these that Jesus called his disciples to serve.
Those with no social status.
Those who were practically invisible.
Who were worthless.
Those whom there was no social benefit to welcoming.
In other words, Jesus called his disciples to become last of all and servant of all,
to become like those with no social status.
And he called them to welcome those who were last of all,
those who had no social status.
And when they did this, he said, they would welcome not only Jesus,
but the one who sent him.
Because it is with the last of all and least of all
that God is most present.
It is with those who are nobodies in the world,
the ones at the bottom of the barrel to whom God is closest.
It is in those who are powerless
that God dwells most powerfully.
And it is in such as these that God longs to be welcomed.
This is the way of Jesus.
For some of us—
those of us tempted by privilege and power and status—
it is the way that saves us from striving after these things.
The way that promises to make us great in a new way,
by becoming servants who are ready to welcome God in the least and the last.
For others,
those in our midst who might know something about being least and last—
who know what it’s like to be nobody, powerless—
for you, the way of Jesus is the way that turns the tables.
The way that lifts you up and makes you first,
when you thought you would always be last.
For all of us,
the way of Jesus is the way that frees us.
The way that frees us to become the people God desires us to be.
Let us journey with Jesus along this way
together.
Let us claim this freedom.
Amen.
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