16 Pentecost, Year B

"GREATNESS"
A sermon by The Rev. Gene Tucker, given at Trinity Church, Mt. Vernon, Illinois, on Sunday, September 20, 2009
Proper 20 -- Wisdom 1: 16 – 2: 12; Psalm 54; James 3: 16 – 4: 6; Mark 9: 30 – 37

“If any one would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all.”

Ever thought about greatness, being the best, being first?

We live in a world that values greatness.

Take, for example, our love of sports. It’s all about who is the best, isn’t it? It’s all about winning (even in our grade schools and high schools). That’s the point of the World Series, which will be coming up in about a month, after all. The World Series caps off the major league baseball season, and its aim is to determine which team is the greatest. (Now, admittedly, the best team this year might be the Cardinals, though we’re fairly sure it won’t be the Cubs, at least not this year.)

The same could be said of the Superbowl, or of college football’s poll rankings. Their purpose is to determine who’s the greatest.

Entertainment values greatness. Consider the way that the TV show “American Idol” is structured. Even the name of the show, and its use of the word “idol” implies that greatness is a trait that is involved in choosing who is the best contestant.

Our political world treats greatness with careful regard. Many of our politicians, once they are elected, like to cloak themselves with the greatness of being a statesman.

As we look back down the halls of time, we see that many figures of past ages were those who subdued enemies, or who conquered seemingly insurmountable obstacles. They did so, oftentimes, by force of will and by yielding power in some way or another. They are great, in our eyes, because they wound up on top of things.

Even Charles Darwin, in his treatment of his theory of evolution, articulated a view of the natural world in which the strongest would survive, at the expense of the weakest.

The world we live in is in love with greatness, with power, with status.

So, it’s no wonder that we read in our gospel for today that the twelve disciples are walking along the road to Capernaum, discussing among themselves who was the greatest.

This conversation shouldn’t surprise us at all.

In fact, the concern that the twelve disciples lavished on the idea of greatness shows up in a number of places in the gospels. Consider, for example, the account of the mother of James and John (known as the Sons of Thunder – a nickname Jesus gave them), as she came up to Jesus and posed this request: “Command that these two sons of mine may sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.” Talk about ego!

In another place, the disciples seem to be willing to exercise some divine power by asking Jesus if they should call down fire upon the Samaritans who wouldn’t listen to Jesus? (See Luke 9:54). At work here is the idea of the powerful destroying the weak.

But notice, as we turn back to our text for today, that the talk of greatness stands right next to something that has everything to do with weakness, with submission: Jesus’ death on the cross.

A person can’t be any more of a “nobody” than on a cross. For this form of execution was reserved for slaves, for conquered peoples. This form of death involved shame, the loss of everything the person owned (personal possessions and even clothing!), and the loss of family and friends….those who died on a cross died alone, totally alone. Those crucified lost everything, even their dignity. The cross is the symbol of defeat, of weakness, of submission.

Already, in the first prediction of His coming death, Jesus has alluded to the cross. Heard last week in our gospel reading, He says this, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” (Mark 8: 34)

No wonder that Mark reminds us today that none of the disciples were especially unwilling to ask Jesus about the second mention of His death. They probably knew what happened to anyone who would dare to challenge the power structure of first century Palestine….if the Romans didn’t find a place for such a person on a couple of pieces of wood, then the Jewish authorities would find a way to work with the Romans to make sure that the same end came to that person….Indeed, that’s exactly what happened once Jesus arrived in Jerusalem.

A person back then didn’t need to possess the wisdom of a rocket scientist to figure out the power structure – put another way: who was the greatest – and to know what the outcome of challenges to the positions of greatness and power was likely to be.

So we see today that notions of greatness from the world’s standpoint nudge right up against the power structure of the kingdom of God.

These two concepts of greatness couldn’t be any farther apart:

One values overt power and strength, the other has all the marks of defeat.

One values pomp and circumstance, the other is marked by shame and loss.

But who is the greatest, really?

If we look at Good Friday and at the cross, then it looks as though the world won the battle for greatness.

But if we look at Easter Sunday morning and at the empty tomb, then we see the power of God, as the powers of evil, death, defeat and loss are all conquered. God is the greatest!

Moreover, the victory of Easter Sunday is an enduring one….no army is needed to maintain the fruits of this victory, for this victory is permanent, enduring, and ours.

But, in advance of this final victory, Jesus has to illustrate for His twelve disciples just how much of a nobody everyone of us is called to be in the kingdom: He takes a child up into His arms, and says, “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.”

We need to unpack the meaning of this action and of Jesus’ statement a little, for our contemporary culture risks losing the meaning of Jesus’ act of taking a child into His arms….

You see, in the ancient world, children were nobodies. They had no legal status, and they were regarded as being non-persons. Even in Roman families, if there were no legal heirs, a person would adopt an adult to be their heir. They wouldn’t adopt a child. Children in ancient times were nobodies.

Jesus seeks to illustrate this reality by the act of taking up a child in His arms.

As the gospel’s reality unfolds, this notion of servanthood is lived out. Surely, it is lived our by Our Lord on the cross. But there are other places, as well, where see this principal of servanthood, of “nobodiness”. Let’s consider a couple of them:

The Last Supper and the washing of feet: (See John 13). By washing the disciples’ feet, Jesus takes on the role of a slave, for the washing of feet following a long journey along dusty roads was the work of a slave.

The Last Supper and Jesus’ pronouncement about greatness: (See Luke 22: 24ff). Here, we read that another dispute arose among the disciples about who was the greatest. But Jesus responds by saying, “The kings of the Gentiles exercise lordship over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you, rather let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For which is the greater, one who sits at table, or one who serves? Is it not the one who sits at table? But I am among you as one who serves.”

The reality of the early Church was that, oftentimes, it was not the greatest, the wisest, the richest, nor the most powerful who became Christians. St. Paul affirms this reality in his first letter to the Christians at Corinth, saying, “For consider your call, brethren; not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth; but God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise, God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong, God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, that no human being might boast in the presence of God.”

We see that the same principle, the principle of the weakness of God overcoming the strength of the world, at work. It’s the same principle that we see in the cross of Christ.

It is the principle that each of us as Christians are called to follow: “Take up our cross and follow the Lord,” is our call.

“Deny yourself,” is the means to discovering our truest self in relation to the God who made us, who loves us, who redeems us.

True greatness, true meaning, true power comes as we cross the threshold of faith that asks us to believe this simple truth, a truth that is contradictory according to the world’s definitions: “The first shall be last, and the last shall be first.”

The reality of the life of faith is expressed very well in this Collect for Fridays from the Daily Office:

“Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord.”

AMEN.