Last [Proper 20B]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Mark 9:30-37
Last
Today's Gospel gives us that iconic
image of Jesus holding a little child, surrounded by his earnest, attentive
disciples. It is an image often depicted
by artists and by whoever designs those resin figurines in Roman Catholic
bookstores: a serene child, a kind Jesus, the disciples gazing in rapt
attention. It is a beautiful image – beautifully imagined, I assume, by those who have
never before met a human child.
I have two children, and so, in my
mind, I picture this scene a little differently. I imagine Jesus and he is really
excited. He has this perfect sermon
illustration, an object lesson for his guys.
He is going to teach them about life and love and status in the kingdom
of God. It's gonna be so good. So he calls the Twelve over and he takes a
little child – who, for some reason, is hanging
out with Jesus and his disciples. And
that little child goes completely limp.
And Jesus starts to sweat a little bit because this was going to be such
a good example and the kid, acting like kids do, is not cooperating. And so he lifts the child into his arms and
the child starts kicking and screaming, tears flowing, trying to squirm free,
making a huge scene. But Jesus is committed
now and so he forges ahead.
I'm not sure whose child this is;
in that culture children did not hang around men, certainly not when the men
were talking about serious matters; fathers were not taking their children to
work. Jesus and his men are staying in a
house though. It is possible the house
belonged to one of the twelve; so maybe it is the daughter or son of one of the
disciples, maybe someone else, but for sure that parent is super
embarrassed. And is explaining to
everyone that the child does not typically behave this way, nap time was just
too short. And then through the chaos,
Jesus says something that shocks every person in the room, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes
me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” The child is
to Jesus as Jesus is to God. Mark's
Gospel records no response, no reply.
Maybe there was nothing to record.
Maybe everyone was too stunned to speak.
For us it is not a surprise to see
Jesus acknowledge a child, not a surprise that Jesus might value a young life – even see the divine image is a little one. In our society, children are valued; children
are special. They bless us with their
innocence. We often hear it said,
especially in election seasons, that they are the future. We protect children – with car seats and child labor laws and metal detectors
at their schools. We educate them. We schedule our lives around their
activities. We read books and magazines
and blogs so that we might be better parents, so that we won't ruin our
children, so that they might be just a little bit better than we are.
In the ancient world, things were a
little different. Children were not
exactly considered “people”. Even folks
today who find children annoying, still tend to acknowledge their basic
humanity. But that has not always been
the case – and certainly wasn't in Jesus'
time. One commentator notes that, “In first-century Palestinian society a child would
symbolize not so much innocence or unspoiledness as lack of social status and
legal rights. A child was a 'non-person' totally dependent on others for nurture
and protection, and of course one could not expect to gain anything either
socially or materially from kindness to a child.”[1]
And so for Jesus, this child was
the perfect example for his perfectly strange message. “Whoever
wants to be first must be last of all.” A child was definitely last of all. And so that child, the one Jesus held in his
arms, is the goal of the God's Kingdom – not an
example of innocence or faith but a challenge to his disciples to hit rock
bottom. That is what Jesus tells his
disciples – disciples who were desperate to
gain rank.
Before we are too hard on the
disciples, which is easy to do, especially in Mark's Gospel, it is important to
note that their argument – which we might consider
inappropriate or selfish – was actually a very common and
important conversation in their cultural setting. It was a culture in which status and honor
were highly valued and defended. And so
conversations concerning the social hierarchy were very normal.
My friend Ed, a Lutheran pastor, is
a great lover of history. When Bible
stories, like this one today, come up in the Sunday lectionary, he never fails
to remind me of a story from the ancient world that illustrates how highly
honor and status were valued. Historian
John Hale tells the story: "Before the Greeks left the Isthmus, the allied
naval commanders cast votes to decide who had displayed the greatest merit in
the war with the Persians. There were ballots for first and second choices. The
matter was considered so important that they laid their votes at the altar of
[their god] Poseidon. Every man felt honor-bound to vote first for himself, so
there was no winner. But when they counted the votes for second place, it was
found that most had voted for Themistocles.
With this last rite, united in their disunity, the Greeks launched their ships
and rowed away to their homes."[2]
Most everyone knew that
Themistocles deserved the highest honor, but each man was honor-bound to vote
for himself. It was a cultural
requirement. There was no place for
false humility. Each person needed to
know where they stood in the social hierarchy; the goal was, of course, to
reach the top. This same expectation was
imported into Jesus' group of twelve. Of
course it was. They needed to know the
pecking order. It was just the way of
their world.
Our world is not really that
different. We might not always be quite
as explicit, but our society also values status and success. We revere those who revere those who fight their
way to the top. We celebrate
achievement, wealth and celebrity. Every
magazine has some list that annually ranks people by their hot-ness or wealth
or influence or potential. Most folks
still hope to befriend those who might in some way benefit them socially or financially. That's like the backbone of our entire
political system. Run that race, climb
that ladder, grab that cash. It is just
the way of the world.
And Jesus is shockingly
disinterested in the way of the world.
Jesus is not looking to recruit successful associates – just faithful disciples. Jesus does not want us chasing money and
power and fame. He just wants us to
follow him.
And he is racing for the bottom – staring straight into the eyes of a sea of humanity
running, racing, rushing for the top. Our
Gospel reminds us that Jesus' end game, in a world in which success and status
and wealth are what matters, is public execution – the most
overt failure possible. On his cross, he
is mocked; he is spat upon; he is held up as the example of what not to do – a cautionary tale.
And the problem is: he wants us to follow his bad example.
Following Jesus is uncomfortable;
he walks out of step. In our Gospel, the
disciples are not bad people; they are normal people – acting in a socially acceptable way. Believing and talking and acting like
everybody else around them.
It is Jesus who is not normal. He expects his disciples to forget everything
they know, to turn their backs on the value systems accepted by their families
and their friends, to be weird. It would
be like Jesus telling them to hate their mothers, give all of their money away,
and die – which actually, he does. He does say all of those things. Like I said, Jesus is not normal.
When Jesus takes that little child,
that non-person, that bottom dweller of society, and holds him or her lovingly
in his arms, he is telling the disciples two things, two really difficult
truths of God's Kingdom. Jesus is
commanding them to open their hearts to those who cannot and will not help them
get to the top. Actually, Jesus is
commanding them to love and value the ones no one else loves or values, the
ones who society dehumanizes and ignores, the ones forced to the bottom.
But Jesus wants his followers to do
more than love the lowly. Jesus wants us
to transfer our citizenship to the Kingdom of God. Jesus wants us to opt out of every system
that dehumanizes human beings, that ranks and files people, that places a price
on precious human heads. To stop running
the race, stop climbing the ladder.
Jesus wants to save us from success.
Jesus wants to set us free – to live
and love and lose.
Whoever wants to be first must be
last of all. First is last; last is
first. Jesus does not share the values
of our culture, or of our world. He has
this crazy idea that love is more important than all of the money and success
and status this world can offer.
The Jesus’ Way is a lightly traveled road. And the guy who forged the way looked a
little crazy. Everything in his Kingdom
is backwards and upside-down. His
Kingdom has a Crucified King. And that
King loves you. And so he is rooting for
you. He is rooting for you to finish
last.
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