"Last, But Not Least"
St. Paul's Lutheran Church of Glenside
September 23, 2018
Lectionary 25B/Pentecost 18
Mark 9:30-27
I was that kid. Once upon a time.
I was probably about four years old, and the first child born in the US to German parents, who had emigrated to the U.S. about ten years earlier. They were eager to give me a good start in this new world, so the time had come for me to attend Nursery School. Although I had no idea what to expect, I could tell my mother was pretty excited about it. As the school year began, it certainly was a wonderful thing to be with other kids my age (especially since I at that point was an only child). I loved the painting, coloring, singing, listening to stories…I can still taste those graham crackers and the Hi-C juice and smell that white paste like it was just yesterday.
Overall, things seemed to go pretty smoothly until one day, when it was circle time. “Okay, cool,” I thought, quite elated at the idea of sitting in a circle with my classmates. I don’t think I had ever done that before. The next thing I knew, we had to go around the circle and describe our bedtime routines. “What do we wear to bed? Do you have a favorite stuffed animal?”
Not feeling the slightest bit anxious, I quickly tried to formulate the answer in my head: “My mom bought me a ‘blanket sleeper’ (that’s what she called it, you know, those Dr. Denton jammies) and I have a stuffed cat named Minka.” There, that sounds good, I thought.
When it came time for me to open my mouth, the words that came out did not sound the same as what the other kids had been saying. I struggled to make them sound the same but did not know how. It was weird gibberish and the teacher politely dismissed what I tried to say and went on to the next child. I was startled because I felt — different. Suddenly I wasn’t like all the others. I felt as though I didn’t belong.
Things were a bit different back in the day. I was sent home from nursery school for the rest of the year, so that my (German-speaking, mind you) mother to speak more English with me in the hopes that I would be able to communicate more clearly. It wasn’t until Kindergarten that my English speaking skills finally caught up with me. But the feeling of being “different” has never left me since.
— PRAYER —
Let’s travel with Jesus. Today’s reading begins “Jesus went on from Caesarea Philippi. This is the location of one of the largest springs feeding the Jordan River. There is no record of Jesus actually entering that city, but we know that the Great Commission and the Transfiguration both occurred in the vicinity of the city (Matt 16:13), so they went on from what was then known as Caesarea Philippi. and Jesus “didn’t want anyone to know it.” Part of the reason for Jesus’ reluctance to reveal his true identity was that Jesus saw his task as bringing the good news about God and his Kingdom, and that is also why he warned healed people not to tell of their healing. He tended to escape from crowds when there was a danger of his mission becoming nothing more than a ‘healing campaign.’ Besides, he didn’t want crowds for this “teaching moment.”
He tells the disciples - again - that he would be betrayed, sentenced to die, and rise again in three days. Yes, he had told them this just a chapter earlier. In fact, there are three instances in Mark 8-10 when Jesus makes these predictions, and the one in today’s Gospel is the second time. The first time around, he got little response. This time around, the disciples are just plain uncomfortable and don’t know what to say.
\ Now, I don’t know about you, but when was the last time a trusted teacher, mentor, boss, or friend of yours took you aside for a heart-to-heart talk, explaining that he or she would be given over to the authorities and betrayed by those loyal to them? Not only that, but that in 3 days they’d come back to life. You might think to yourself, “Well, what on earth did this person do? How did they get in trouble with the law?” Because the relationship between you and this person was close, but also one of deep respect, it might be hard to ask such difficult questions. It certainly was for the disciples.
How do WE respond to Jesus’ predictions? What are we afraid to ask? In spite of over 2000 years between us, I’m sure there’s just as much we’re afraid of asking Jesus as the disciples were. So there’s not much point in going down the road that says, “Ohhh those poor confused, disciples. They were really clueless” - because the more things change, the more they stay the same. We, too, remain clueless. We too, keep seeking. Even though we have the distinct advantage of knowing the end of the story, The secret became plain at the cross. Still, we, too, continue to have questions. So the story goes on. It continues.
Continue — now there’s a word. When we read this passage in the original Greek, we find Jesus teaching (edidasken) - that is, in the ACTIVE indicative form of the verb - what we often call the continuous tense. It’s not like he taught them, and that was it. He KEEPS on doing it. What else? Jesus was continually saying “the Son of Man is to be betrayed” BUT, as the Greek says, they were continuously ignorant (egno-oun) and did not understand his words.
This passage also remind us that God calls from the future, that time is not linear for God, but more like a continuous circle. The fact that he brings up this prediction not one, not two, but three times is also reminiscent of some of other Jesus questions: “Peter, do you love me?” he asks three times. And later Peter denies him three times. And just last week, Jesus asked Peter, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter answers, “You are the Messiah, the son of the living God.” How WE answer this questions says a lot about our own identity as Christians as well.
What happens next kind of reminds me of a family road trip. The parents are sitting in the front seat, and the kids are in the back making increasingly more disruptive but unintelligible noises which eventually escalate to a deafening crescendo. “Are we there yet?” they ask. “No!” say the parents.
This time, Jesus is in the front seat and the disciples are in the back of the van, traveling somewhere between Caesarea Philippi and the house in Capernaum, where Jesus made his home during the years of his ministry. [Peter, Andrew, James and John were fishermen living in the village. Matthew the tax collector also dwelt here]. Another fun fact is that Capernaum is one of the three cities cursed by Jesus for its lack of faith.
The disciples start mumbling and bickering amongst themselves. Jesus asks them, “Hey, what are you talking about?” It turns out they had been arguing with one another about who was the greatest. So they cut right to the end game. They didn’t even pass go, they went right to Plan B. They were already trying to establish a hierarchy of leadership in Jesus’ absence. They were not living in the present.
Jesus sat down, motioned to the twelve to have a seat, “WHOEVER wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he grabbed one of the little children, took it in his arms saying “Whoever welcomes a little child IN MY NAME welcomes me.” You see, this time HE takes one of the children. He doesn’t even wait for them to come to him. He goes to them.
Jesus’ illustration is not only a radical act for his time, but cause for conviction and repentance for our time as well. Author Anne Edison-Albright writes:
“It’s jarring to compare that iconic image of Jesus welcoming and blessing the children with the harsh realities that children face every day.”
In the year 2017, children made up 52 percent of the refugee population. There were 173,800 unaccompanied and separated child refugees in 2017. According to U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees spokesman Gary Seidman -
"Whenever children are traveling alone they are vulnerable, far more vulnerable than adults. They are at greater risk of being exploited, or being hurt, of falling into the hands of traffickers," Seidman said. "Children traveling alone are at a much higher risk for violence and abuse."
He added that children especially do not have the needed emotional capacity to deal with these situations.
Regardless of our political convictions, we look to Jesus, who takes it to the next level. We need not ask “What would Jesus do?” but rather, “What DID Jesus do?”
There are three key words here. Jesus could have just said, “Whoever welcomes a little child welcomes me, but he went a step further. BUT he goes right to the heart of it by stating “IN MY NAME.” This supersedes any national or political ties. Jesus knew that the radical act of welcoming children would be transformational. It says so all over Scripture - “Every Valley shall be exalted, and the mountains and hills made low.” “My grace is sufficient for you , for My power is made perfect in weakness.” St. Paul writes, “while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” It all changes at the cross.
It’s not about our opinions, or where we stand. It’s this direct line that leads to God. Now, I’m not a math wizard either, but I remember the Transitive property - if A=B then A=C. If you welcome the child, you welcome me. Matthew 10:40 says, “Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” So there you have it. And it refers to WHOEVER. Whoever WELCOMES. Whoever does it. Not a specific class of people, just the doers. A few weeks ago we heard, “Be ye DOERS of the Word, and not hearers only.” Just. Do. It.
As we live in response to Christ’s example and welcome all children around us — the weak, the vulnerable, the disenfranchised, those that have no voice — we also need to learn to welcome the child within us. There is something inside each one of us that cries out to be loved, embraced, and accepted by a force, a community larger than ourselves.
That cry is answered by Jesus. When we hear God’s voice through the presence of the Holy Spirit, we answer in faIth. We remember our baptism. We remember that we are loved, and Whose we are.
Then we meet others who share our fatih. We become community, the family of God. We begin to find ways to make God’s Kingdom a reality, right here, right now. We celebrate being the Body of Christ in the Lord’s Supper.
One of my favorite songs by the band Casting Crowns is called “If We Are the Body,” and the lyrics talk about what it means to be the body of Christ, what it means to welcome the vulnerable and the less than. It goes like this:
It's crowded in worship today
As she slips in trying to fade into the faces
The girls teasing laughter is carrying farther than they know
A traveler is far away from home
He sheds his coat and quietly sinks into the back row
The weight of their judgmental glances
Tells him that his chances are better out on the road
But if we are the body
Why aren't His arms reaching?
Why aren't His hands healing?
Why aren't His words teaching?
And if we are the body
Why aren't His feet going?
Why is His love not showing them there is a way?
Jesus paid much too high a price
For us to pick and choose who should come
And we are the body of Christ
Think on those words.
Last, but certainly not least, It all begins with a little child. Welcome that child. Tell him or her they are loved. It begins with you and with me. AMEN.
