THE SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PETECOST

September 24, 2006

 

Wisdom 1:16-2:1 (6-11) 12-22

James 3:16-4:6

Mark 9:30-37

Year B/Proper 20

 

The Book of Wisdom is among the church’s apocryphal books. It was written by a Greek-speaking Jew to strengthen Jewish society in Alexandria, the great intellectual and scientific center of the Mediterranean world. It was meant to sound a warning to Jews surrounded by a pagan society of the challenge to be God’s own children in a world alien to the Kingdom of God.

 

The very thought of being named a child of God is a beautiful thing. But even children openly show us their pride and self-centeredness. Take for example, a small book containing children’s letters to clergy. One reads:

 

“Dear Pastor, I have been a good Christian all my life, even when I didn’t have to. Love, Rosemarie.”

Or

“Dear Pastor, Please say in your sermon that Peter Petersen has been a good boy all week. I am Peter Petersen”.

 

In today’s gospel Jesus declared there was no way out of the noose that was tightening around him. The disciples’ reaction was to spend the rest of the day meandering down the road to Capernaum, discussing which one of them will be declared most valuable player. Jesus announces impending suffering and they argue over leather chairs in the board room.

 

There is something heartbreaking about the thought of Jesus moving closer and closer to the cross while the disciples argue over who’s going to be CEO of the company. From Mark it appears they did not intend that Jesus should overhear this, because when he asks them what they were talking about on the road they became silent. So when they arrived at the house in Capernaum Jesus sat down. It was no small thing that he sat down; because when a rabbi in Jesus’ day wanted to make a very important point he sat. Given what Jesus was about to say the disciples should have taken a seat as well. For Jesus took a child into his arms and called them to task.

 

In Jesus’ day children were not necessarily cute cuddly creatures to drool and coo over, but creatures who were three feet below attention. They were the largest part of society that was ignored. First century children were lowly because they had nothing to give. They didn’t produce anything or contribute anything to society. Children were those who might someday be useful to adults, but until that time you had to feed them and put up with them in hopes that they might be worth the investment you had put into them. This is not to say that parents did not love their children, but one had to be careful how much of your heart you were willing to risk, considering that 60% of all children in the first century were dead by the age of sixteen.

 

In many ways today’s society functions as a direct opposite from that of the first century. Far from ignoring our children, our culture caters to them more than anyone else. Our lives revolve around their schedules, their performances, their desires. Their wants empty many a parental wallet and we lavish attention on them in ways we wish someone would lavish upon us.

 

Jesus was under no false illusions about children. He knew one could kick you in the shins and then blame it on the kid standing next to him. No doubt he knew that children could be cruel as well as innocent and cute. In pulling a child into his arms Jesus was referring to those he spoke of so often; the “little ones”, all those who were under someone’s thumb; all those at the mercy of those with power and control over their very existence. He said of them the unthinkable. He said the Kingdom of God belonged to them!

 

The disciples may not have understood much, but they did have the capability of being embarrassed over Jesus catching them in an ego contest. It is possible that Peter, James, and John, having been privy to unearthly moments such as the Transfiguration, thought that this was an indication that they would be given a place of honor, a boxed seat, if you will, in the Kingdom.

 

And Jesus said it was just the opposite. And then he said something the disciples did not want to hear. He said that humility and service in the Kingdom of God not only lead to greatness, they ARE greatness. But we, like the disciples, do not believe that. We have our own ideas about greatness, about truth, and what gets in the way of our thinking we usually discard. Today James says that when we displace God for a false god, whether the god of status, wealth, office, prestige, or power, it is an idol and worshipping an idol leads to spiritual death.

 

Some of you will remember my dear friend, Father Paul Von Lobkowitz, Orthodox priest and bishop. Of the few years I was privileged to know him before his death so many things stand out; gifts he bought for me; precious things he gave me that belonged to him such as a ciborium from Hungary (a container for holding consecrated bread) that I keep in our own sacristy. Precious moments with him stand out like the time he invited me to celebrate the Eucharist in the Eastern Orthodox Chapel in the hospice he started in Denver, something that drew fire from his own Bishop as well as others. But Paul didn’t care, because he believed I had the right to celebrate the Eucharist just as much as he did. Looking back I’m not sure I fully appreciated how much he cared about me and risked for me. He would often make fun of his long flowing black robes and his black orthodox Episcopal hat that he got into trouble for cutting down to a size he could fit into his Jeep. He never took himself very seriously. But that’s who he was; one of God’s own precious children.

 

Fr. Paul had an extraordinary sense of humor, but one particularly serious moment with him I will never forget. We were having lunch at the Adam’s Mark Hotel, in downtown St. Louis. We were discussing someone we both cared about, when Fr. Paul, barely hesitating between bites, said, “You do know of course, don’t you, that he’s spiritually dead?” His diagnosis of this particular person did not even cause him to bat an eyelash, whereas it put me off the rest of lunch because I found his statement so deeply disturbing. “Of course”, he continued, “that doesn’t mean the Holy Spirit couldn’t get through a crack in the door, but then there would have to BE a crack in the door first”.

 

I have never forgotten that moment for it seemed to me then, and it seems to me now, that he was not only far more perceptive than I had realized but very clear about how real and how dreadful are the ways we shut God out. The ‘little ones’ never do that. Fr. Paul was one of those ‘little ones’.

 

Most of us are like those in the Wizard of Oz, trying to convince ourselves that true life lies in the things we are wrapped in; our credentials, our place in society, our possessions. In the Wizard of Oz the Emerald City turns out to look like it is made of emeralds only because they are looking at it through green-colored glasses. The Wizard of Oz’s magic is pure illusion worked out by a little man behind a curtain. “You are a very bad man” Dorothy says to him when he is found out. His poignant response is, “Oh no, my dear. I’m really a very good man, but I’m a very bad wizard.” In the same way, we make very bad gods, but we have an amazing potential to be life-giving children of God.

 

Through the years one of the greatest joys of my priesthood has been the joy I get from the children who gather around me, wanting me to pick them up, pressing in on me. Even last week a boy old enough to worry about what other boys might think of him, did not hesitate to throw his arms around me. They aren’t impressed by my credentials or title. By the same token I couldn’t list them on my resume or let their names out at a social gathering and impress anyone. So far they have no status in society, which makes them, according to Jesus, precious in God’s eyes - and in mine because when they rush into my arms I know it’s not for any other reason than a pure desire to be in my embrace.

 

They are just what we need Jesus says. It is in the presence of the likes of them, no matter how old they may be, that your own worth is truly revealed. Jesus says when you spend time with those of this world who expect nothing but end up giving you everything; it is to come very near to the Kingdom. And that’s when you know just how much you are loved.

 

You see what was missing from the disciples discussion was, of course, love; pure, self-offering love. To lose yourself in another’s company or another’s arms, or in suffering love for another, is to touch a you so pure and genuine it may rattle you down to your very foundations; down to the child that is within you. And when that happens what you will end up receiving Jesus says, is nothing less than the presence of God. And that is a gift, a wisdom and a treasure, worth nothing less than – everything.

 

                                                                                                                                AMEN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Rev. Virginia L. Bennett, D.Min.

St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church

Edwardsville, Illinois