Mark 9:30-37 "The Rules of Living"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly!

         During WWII, England and Germany both had state-of-the-art fighter planes.  Germany had the Messerschmitt, which was considered the world’s fastest fighter plane, and the British had the Spitfire, slower, obviously, than its counterpart.  Who – or, in this case, which - was the greatest would seem to be a no brainer.  In aerial warfare, speed makes a tremendous difference.  Nevertheless, Germans pilots were very envious of their British counterparts.

         You see, the Messerschmitt had been designed to hold the perfect German, who was, of course, Adolph Hitler.  The problem, however, was that Hitler was short – little more than five feet tall.  In contrast, the typical, though imperfect, German was considerably bigger. 

         The result was that German fighter pilots had to fly in very cramped quarters on all of their missions – in contrast to the Brits who had some wiggle room.  No wonder the former were a tad bit jealous of their British enemy!  The Messerschmitt might have been the fastest, but it sure was not the most comfortable – and from the German fighter pilot perspective, it was therefore not the greatest either.

         Whether you are talking about perfection or greatness, either one is pretty hard to put your finger on.  Who was the greatest?  You could argue that one for hours – which the disciples did in the passage we just read.  You could debate the question for days unless you had a well-defined set of criteria – which the disciples did not.

         It all began one day as Jesus and his gaggle of followers were traipsing through Galilee on their way, ultimately, to Jerusalem, that holy Roman-occupied city where Jesus would come to the end of the line – crucified on Calvary Hill.  Jesus knew it too, and maybe that was why he reminded the twelve a second time of his impending fate:  “The Son of Man is about to be betrayed to some people who want nothing to do with God. They will murder him. Three days after his murder, he will rise, alive.”

         The disciples either did not get it – or they did not want to get it and therefore chose to ignore his proclamation.  After all, as the blogger of “Magdalene’s Musings” writes, “It doesn’t matter how many times Jesus mentions this; the disciples never show any measure of acceptance or understanding. And, really, why should they? It’s not an acceptable, understandable reality.

          Jesus is their rabbi. He is their beloved, revered teacher, their Messiah, even: he is the one they believe God has anointed to save the people from all that ails them. Jesus is their leader, the alpha male of their pack. He is number one.

         And, (our blogger goes on), he is describing to them the most ignominious, the most shameful, the most humiliating end they can imagine. He is describing a death that is utterly inconsistent with everything they believe they know about him. He is not describing the death of a king, but of a criminal. Even Jesus’ assurance that he will rise again does not seem to matter. They are struck silent.”

         And, of course, it did not help either that the first time Jesus had brought up the subject of his own demise, Peter (always the loudmouth) had voiced his opinion and been savagely and roundly rebuked.  Seriously, Peter?  Had you not gleaned one iota from Jesus in all the months you had been together?  “Get you behind me, Satan.”  Ouch!  No wonder the disciples were afraid to ask Jesus exactly what he meant by his irrational declaration.

         So they left it in that uncomfortable sort of silence – Jesus walking ahead by himself, and the disciples lagging behind, chatting quietly in an attempt to forget about the bombshell their rabbi had just dropped on them – again.  However, Jesus was no fool and knew that what seems like idle chatter is seldom innocent.  So, when they reached Capernaum, their destination, he flat out asked them, “What were you discussing on the road?”

         There you have it:  Another conversation stopper that left the disciples shuffling their feet, staring at their sandals, and mumbling unconvincingly. “Nothing, nope, talking about nothing, nothing at all.” 

         OK – let’s give them some credit here.  They certainly did not want to talk about the bad news Jesus had just shared, so they had switched gears and delved into something more positive and far more fun:  Who was the greatest, the most perfect among them?  Because, whoever it was, that person would one day be sitting at the right hand of King Jesus.

         Incidentally, as blogger Ross TenEyck, points out “the Gospel doesn't tell us whether the disciples were each arguing that they themselves were the greatest. For all we know, they were walking down the road saying, ‘Peter, you're the greatest. Me? No, I'm not the greatest; Andrew, you rock, you're the greatest. No way, not me; James, you're the man, you're the greatest.’ Maybe, maybe not; but either way Jesus wasn't having any of it.”  

         And so, we are told, Jesus “sat them down.”  That is “gospel speak” for Jesus has something really, really important to say, so you (and I mean us) better listen up and pay very, very close attention.  Here is what he said:  “Whoever wants to be first must place himself last of all and take on the role of servant.  So you want first place? Then take the last place. Be the servant of all.”

         What?  Now that was a head scratcher for you!  Not surprisingly, the disciples did not get that topsy turvy proclamation either.  But really, again, can you blame them? 

         After all, when you are arguing about priorities, power, and prestige and when you are self-serving, self-centered self seekers, it is difficult to even imagine what it would be like to intentionally put yourself last, when the only culture that you know is telling you if the rich are going to get richer, (and that is the way the world is supposed to work, rugged individualism and all), if the rich are going to get richer, it will be by working very, very hard to climb over the poor without their knowing it.  It will certainly not happen by elevating their status in the community. 

         Any chance you had of moving up the very, very steep social structure of the ancient world would be accomplished by, at the least, forgetting and more likely demeaning those beneath you which, of course, could be accomplished in a variety of ways.  As theology professor Micah Kiel notes, “Against such a backdrop, the words of Jesus in Mark’s gospel stand out. Saying that the way to gain honor is to receive those who are without honor goes against the logic of the ancient society. The Kingdom of God assesses and assigns value differently than the human realm.”

         No wonder the disciples did not get it!  And so Jesus did what he often did by way of explanation.  He used a visual aid.  He took a child, gave her a hug, and stood the grubby little tyke in front of them.  “Whoever embraces one of these children as I do embraces me, and far more than me—God who sent me.” 

         Aw, little kids!  We love it when Jesus talks about cute little kids!  Sweet!  Not really!  

         You see, this is where, if we look at this passage only with our 21^st century eyes and without benefit of its historical context, we will most certainly be led astray.  What I mean is that, until fairly recently in the great scheme of things, children were not given the stature they have today in our country. 

         As the blogger of Magdalene’s Musings informs us, “When Jesus spoke of welcoming children, he was not praising their innocence, or their sweetness, or their beauty. He was not talking about the way the sight of a newborn baby, swaddled in its mother’s arms, tugs at our heartstrings. He was not talking about the sometimes uncanny wisdom children display—the moments when they can cut to the heart of the matter, speak the truth in all its beauty and simplicity. He was not speaking of their playful spirit—the way they can spend happy hours in imaginary worlds of their own creation. He was not speaking of their trusting natures, or their inborn sense of fair play, or their eager willingness to believe, to have faith. All these things may be true about children, as we experience them. But these modern day notions of childhood were not the reason Jesus commanded his disciples to welcome children into their midst.” 

         Our blogger goes on to say that “Here’s the thing about kids in first-century Roman Palestine: Children were nobodies, the bottom of the social food chain. Children had no power whatsoever, they weren’t given choices or negotiated with, they weren’t allowed privileges or given allowances. Children could be and were left on garbage heaps to die of exposure. Some of them were collected from the garbage to be kept as slaves. Depending on the hierarchy of the household, any number of people could decide that it was no longer expedient to keep a child alive. And although Jewish parents did not engage in infant exposure, their children had no more position or social standing.”  (Hoffman/Crosson)  Even in medieval times, Thomas Aquinas taught that in a raging fire a husband was to save his father first, then his mother, followed by his wife, and last of all his young child.

         What must the disciples have been imagining at this point?  A kingdom made up of children was a kingdom of nobodies – and this was to be the kingdom of God?  A kingdom made up of folks who were old, handicapped, sick, illiterate, peasants, farmers, shepherds, widows, slaves, the unemployed, illegal aliens, anchor babies, immigrants, refugees spilling into the European Union, prisoners, the homeless in Portland and even in Raymond?  This is the Kingdom of God? 

         Was Jesus actually telling them to find the people with as little status as possible and make sure that they are cared for?  Was he actually telling them that even people of low status are beloved by God and merit compassion and justice?  Could he possibly be saying that welcoming the lowest of the low is not simply a nice thing to do but rather when we welcome the least of these, we are welcoming the presence of Christ that is found in each person we meet – and so we are being in true relationship with God?  Is that really what Jesus is telling us? 

         Oh, we have such a long history of marginalizing one another, shaking heads, and wagging fingers in contempt, “He’s not like us.  She’s a nobody.”  And Jesus is saying, No. No. No. The one you think you can’t welcome, or don’t have to welcome? That is the one you must welcome. You must welcome the nobodies, the ones without power, the ones without status. Not only must you welcome them, he says, even with his body language… you must embrace them. Not only must you welcome them, he says, you must be willing to be their servant. You must be willing to let them be first, and you must be willing to be last.”  (Magdalene’s Musing)

         It takes guts to put someone else first, but that is what we, as Christians, are called to do.  It takes guts to say that we need immigration reform in this country that consists not of a massive wall along our Southwestern border to keep people out, but rather something more along the lines of Jesus’ message of radical hospitality. “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to be free”, as the Statue of Liberty reminds us.  

         It takes guts to say that we need to make our church more handicapped accessible by building an ADA compliant ramp in this sanctuary so that Frank can come in to pray during the week when he cleans, so that Fran and Josh can get to the bathroom on Sundays, so that Diane can get to the choir loft – it takes guts to say that, especially when building that ramp will mean removing a couple of pews and shortening others. 

         I heard an interview on public radio this week with a father in Hungary whose family opened their home as a way station for refugees and migrants from Syria.  They gave them beds and water and fed them lentils for breakfast – not exactly what one would normally eat in Hungary. 

         With the borders closing down, the man was asked what his family would do now.  His reply was this:  “There are the rules of government and the rules of living.  When they come into conflict, you go by the rules of living.  We will continue to serve.”  And I have to ask myself, “What would I do?  What would you do?

         The rules of living.  The rules of loving.  So you want first place? Then take the last place. Be the servant of all in the kingdom of nobodies.

by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine