A Sermon
At St. Matthew’s UCC
Maiden, North Carolina
On the 25^th Sunday in Ordinary Time 

Scripture Lesson:  Mark 9:30-37
_____________________________________________________________

          Salvador Dali, born in Catalonia, Spain in the early years of the 20^th century, was one of the last century’s most important painters, known especially for his surrealist, dreamlike images on canvass. He once said about himself, “At the age of six I wanted to be a cook. At seven I wanted to be Napoleon. And my ambition has been growing steadily ever since.” Well, it can be argued that Salvador Dali achieved, in fact, a full measure of the greatness for which he yearned as a child.

          But very few human beings achieve greatness in the world’s terms, but having dreams of greatness is common to everyone. My dream of rising to greatness, as for many young men, involved sports, baseball in particular. I wanted to be a famous pitcher for a major league team, wanted to be a hero in the World Series.

          Many times when I was a kid I took my baseball glove when I went to watch the Orioles play at Memorial Stadium in Baltimore. When asked why I took the glove, I would say, “Oh, just in case a foul ball comes my way.” But the real reason had to do with my childhood fantasy of being suddenly called out of the stands to replace an Oriole pitcher who had become tired and lost the zip on his fastball, the drop from his sinker.

          It wasn’t until I was 50 years old that I finally caught a foul ball at a big league game (and that without my trusty baseball glove!).  But as for being called out of the stands to pitch, alas, that never happened. And, what’s more, as some of you can attest from the recent church volleyball tournament at Johns River two weeks ago, athletic greatness was not to be mine!

          How does the world measure greatness? Well, the simplest answer is that greatness is measured by power – power in the form of physical strength and prowess, power in the form of military might, power in the form of money, fame, or anything else that enables us to gratify our own desires and impose our will on others. We call the achievement of one or another of these goals “success.”

          For example, I read in the Hickory Daily Record just last Thursday an article about George Lucas, the creator of “Star Wars.” It seems that Lucas honed his skills as a student of film at the University of Southern California. And now that Lucas has achieved such fame and accumulated such enormous wealth, recently he gave a little something back to his alma mater – am unrestricted gift of $175 million! As commonly measured, would you say that George Lucas has achieved greatness in his field of endeavor? You bet he has!

          We know more or less how the world measures greatness, but how does Jesus measure greatness? For this answer we must return to today’s story from the Gospel of St. Mark, and pay close attention to this familiar story unfolds. You may remember from last Sunday’s Gospel lesson: Jesus and his disciples were gathered at Caesarea Philippi, in the northern reaches of Palestine. There Jesus asked his disciples what people were generally saying about his identity, and then, getting more personal, Jesus asked the disciples what they themselves thought about him.

          When Peter boldly confessed that he believed Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ, Jesus proceeded to turn upside-down Peter’s assumptions about what it means to be the Messiah. Peter was thinking of things like: kingdom, royalty, power, military victory, freedom, self-determination, pre-eminence in the world. But what Jesus was thinking he summed up by saying that he “must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.”

          Well, it’s now several days later, and the journey south toward Jerusalem – the final journey – has begun. Jesus and his men arrive at Peter’s house at Capernaum on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee. It’s a familiar place to them because this house (belonging to Peter, his wife, and their family) has served for some time as the temporary headquarters of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee.

          Unexpectedly, Jesus asked his men this question, “What were you arguing about on the way?” Now, Jesus knew very well what they were arguing about, but he wanted them to tell him. But they were in no condition to speak at the moment. They were stunned by his question, frankly embarrassed by what they had been discussing among themselves. The fact is they had been arguing among themselves as to which one of them was the greatest, the most important, the one closest to Jesus, the most gifted, the most capable of leadership, the most worthy to hold the highest positions in the coming Jesus Administration.

          You see, when Jesus became King in Jerusalem (as they imagined) Jesus would need all the help he could get. And where would that leave the disciples? Would he make all twelve of them top-level managers, or would he choose some of them for the top positions and let the rest of them serve one level down? If so, some of the twelve would be working for others of the twelve. So which ones would be on top and which on the bottom? The disciples were thinking about these things – in fact, arguing about them.

          It was obvious to them by now that Peter, James, and John were marked out for top positions in the Jesus Administration. Very likely, they assumed, the rest of them would be working under these three pre-eminent disciples. Of course, they liked Peter well enough, and he was clearly leadership material, but Peter had a terrible temper and a tendency to shoot from the hip. Working under his authority might be tough. As for James and John, well, these two already had a nickname. They were called the Sons of Thunder. That tells you something about their personalities. How would you like to work for someone with a nickname like Sons of Thunder? So the arguing had gone on among them all day as they made their way to Capernaum. While Jesus had been walking at the head of the straggly procession, he could still hear what they were saying behind him, and what’s more, he knew what was in their hearts.

          Their awkward, embarrassed silence at Jesus’ question provided him with a wonderful teaching opportunity. So, the Scripture says, “(Jesus) sat down (that’s what rabbis did in those days when they began to teach), called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”

          Remember how the world measures greatness? It’s by power to satisfy our own desires and impose our will on others, which is called success. Now, contrast the world’s way of measuring greatness with our Lord’s way of measuring greatness. According to this story in Mark’s Gospel, it appears that Jesus measured greatness not by success, the world’s standard, but by lowly service.

          And, then, to be sure the disciples got the point, a wildly unlikely point at that, Jesus called to a child in the house to come to him. Jesus gathered the child close to himself, put his arm round the child’s shoulders, and continued teaching his disciples about greatness. He said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

          To understand what’s going on here, we must know something about the status of children in Jesus’ day. Children weren’t seen then as cuddly, lovable, innocent creatures for which it is natural to show kindness and respect. Rather, it was exactly the opposite of what we assume. In Jesus’ day, you see, children were near the bottom of the social ladder. They were held in very low esteem. Children had little status within the community or even in the family. A minor child was on par with a slave. In fact, the term “child” could be used as a serious insult. It’s hard for us to get our minds around this way of regarding children, but we must if we are to understand Jesus’ example.

          For Jesus to put a lowly child in the midst of his disciples, draw the child near to him with his arm, and say what he said to them about welcoming children, was to make this point in an unforgettable way: according to Jesus, greatness is measured not by success, but by lowly service to the most vulnerable - to the insignificant, the unlovely, the powerless, and the outcast of the world. Let me say it again, as Jesus’ words are shockingly out of step with our normal assumptions about being great…greatness has to do with serving the most vulnerable among us.

          I want you to be sure to notice that Jesus does not deny the natural human ambition to be first, the urge to be great. That’s built into all of us from conception onward, it seems! What Jesus does is redirect the focus of human ambition. His definition of greatness stands the world’s understanding of greatness on its head. Greatness now is measured not by the outward signs of worldly success, but by lowly service to the most vulnerable! It’s a revolutionary idea! It’s counter-cultural, counter-intuitive. In fact, it’s breathtaking!

          Do you recognize the name Elisabeth Kubler-Ross? She was a psychiatrist who wrote the ground-breaking book On Death and Dying. She herself died two years ago, but because of her work we know much more about the stages of dying and grief. Millions of people have been helped through her work to grieve in a healthy way and to experience a gentler, more dignified death. She revolutionized the care that people in hospitals and hospices receive as they are dying.

          Dr. Kubler-Ross once noticed that a particular woman in the hospital where she worked seemed to have a special touch with dying patients. The woman in question was a maintenance worker who made beds, cleaned rooms, and emptied bedpans, menial, thankless work, but dying people always seemed to be more peaceful when she was around. Kubler-Ross sought her out and asked the woman her secret. This is what she said,

          Well, I’ve been up the mountain and I’ve been down the mountain. I’ve lived in many valleys. The worst was when I went to a public clinic with my 3 year old daughter in my arms, and before we could        see a doctor, she died of pneumonia. I could have become cynical and angry, but instead I decided to use my pain to help others. I’m no stranger to death, and that’s why I’m not afraid to talk and touch those     who are dying. I try to give them hope.

          Dr. Kubler-Ross had the deep wisdom to recognize true greatness when she saw it, the Jesus’ kind of greatness. The doctor made this great woman a special counselor to the dying in that hospital.

         Would you like to be great in Jesus’ eyes? Then keep your eyes open this week for situations where you can help someone, someone who can’t pay you back, someone who is vulnerable, insignificant, unlovely, powerless, or outcast. Then do what you can for them. Do it in Jesus’ name. The promise of our Gospel story is that, if you will do that, Jesus will take it personally. He will say, “You did it for me, and not only for me, but for the One who sent me.”

          David Wolpe, author of the book Teaching Your Children About God, tells of a man who once stood before God, his heart breaking from the pain and injustice of the world. “Dear God,” he cried out, “look at all the suffering and anguish and distress in the world. Look at all the people who are hurting and lonely and rejected. Why don’t you send help?’

          And God said, “I did send help. I sent you.”

Let us pray:

Lord Jesus Christ, in whose life and death we see what servant-hood is about, and in whose teaching we learn the true nature of greatness, transform our natural ambition to seek after that which is truly most valuable: a life of loving service. If it be your will, put us in situations this week where we are challenged to greatness, give us grace to rise to the challenge, that we may receive you, and not only you, but the One who sent you. Amen.