In the name of God, merciful Father, compassionate Son, Spirit of wisdom. Amen.
Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, "What were you arguing about on the way?" But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. — Mark 9:33-34
A capable wife, who can find? — Proverbs 31:10
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In her column in the newspaper last Friday, [“Clinging to Civility”, Boston Globe, September 18, 2009] Ellen Goodman reflected on a moment recently in a Virginia schoolhouse when a ninth-grader asked the president of the United States a question that had nothing and everything to do with his presidency — and nothing and everything to do with us today: “And if you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would it be?’’
It was an interesting question – and it got an interesting answer. The president picked Gandhi, Mohandas Gandhi, a lawyer like himself — better known as the nonviolent leader of the movement for independence for India from Imperial Britain. Gandhi is revered among nonviolent leaders, as the model emulated by Martin Luther King, Jr., and as a practitioner of the teachings of both Buddha and Jesus — someone who tried to put into practice the seemingly impractical teachings of peaceful resistance to violent oppression.
It occurred to me, as I thought about this question, and its answer, that the president had more immediate access to a greater dinner partner than the one he chose. Any Sunday – and perhaps any day – he could look out the windows of the White House and then walk across Lafayette Square to St. John’s Episcopal Church, and share a meal with Jesus. The Eucharist, the Lord’s Supper, is on offer that often – and in it we break bread with Jesus, and one another, and all those who have gone before us and will come after us, in Christ.
In Christ, in the mystery of the Holy Eucharist, we are present to all those who partake of that meal – and we are present to Christ, to Jesus, the living Savior, the Lord of Life. He is the greatest teacher of how to live, through his words and through his deeds, that the world has ever known. It’s just that easy – and it really is that hard. It is hard because the road that Jesus traveled is hard. It was so hard that the disciples rejected it out of hand when they first heard what it would really mean. It is not clear that they even understood.
No! Peter said. Must it be?
It must be, it must be, said Jesus.
And then he told them: the Son of Man will be, must be, betrayed, and suffer, and die – and then after three days be raised. The first news is unacceptable, the last unfathomable. How can this be?
With God all things are possible. Through God’s promise we know – what we cannot know, what we cannot imagine: that after the struggle, the passion, and the death, there is new life, hope beyond hope, that ends in a scene beyond dreams.
It certainly is not a human hope – not the triumph of the Cowboys over the Broncos, for example.
Who is the greatest, the disciples argue. The book of Proverbs has given a picture of greatness, of a life worthy of praise and admiration, which is already a change from what we might first guess.
A good woman, who can find?
In simple-seeming accomplishments, seen – if they are seen – every day, greatness exists.
The greatest, it appears, even in human terms, is not always the most evident. It is quite a picture the Proverbs paint, of a partner in life who is successful, productive, and wise.
Underlying all her accomplishments is strength of character. And yet – “it is for her fear of the Lord that a woman is to be praised.” (v.30, JSB)
Here is Jesus, remember – he has just told the disciples what is going to happen. He has told them that following the way of Christ means following the way of the Cross. He has told them that “the Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” They don’t get it! They’re afraid to ask. And so they go back to something they know, something familiar and comfortable: arguing – who’s going to be Number One?
He tells them something strange – something a little bit hard for a self-respecting disciple to accept. He says:
Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.
And then he does something a bit surprising. Who is the greatest? Let me show you… and he puts in front of them the last person they’d suspect, not even one of the twelve disciples.
He took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."
A child? – A child may be a picture of innocence to us, perhaps of ignorance or insignificance to others. A child? A child is certainly not great in the eyes of the world.
And yet at the Seder, the meal celebrated by Jews all over the world at the beginning of Passover, it is the smallest child who asks the greatest question: “what makes this night different from all other nights?”
The power of God, the faith of the people, the work of the Holy Spirit – and a child.
A child, asking innocently, to remind us of the work of God in our own lives, as God redeemed the people of Israel, delivered them long ago and led them through all the dangers and trials of their lives on a difficult trail that led at last to the land of promise.
Of the truly great – the ones that follow the way of the Lord and not the way of the world, the psalmist sings,
Their delight is in the law of the LORD,
and they meditate on his law day and night.
They are like trees planted by streams of water,
bearing fruit in due season, with leaves that do not wither;
everything they do shall prosper.
This is a greatness that does not look to be great – it looks beyond itself, to where true wisdom is born. It is the stature of service, the power of prayer: an eminence of humility.
Then James asks us to look around and see:
Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.
James contrasts for us the wisdom of gentleness with the wisecracking foolishness of the world. What source can disorder and wickedness have, what place can they have in the heart, when wisdom and understanding are of the Lord?
Pure, peaceable, gentle, merciful, bountiful, and sincere – this is the wisdom that comes from God, this is the peace that falls on us like gentle rain; this is the source of justice.
This wisdom, this gentleness, this righteousness, is embodied for us in one human being, one sent from God.
There was one person who set aside all his possible glory, all his potential for great stature in the eyes of the world, and took upon himself a life and a passion and a death that he could have avoided. He could have turned aside. He did not swerve from the path; he kept straight toward the goal: the goal of eternal life, for us.
By his birth and suffering and death he embodied the hope of Glory – and this Glory can live in you. Take upon yourself the gift of Christ and enter into his love. Take into yourself his gift of life – through the common meal we share in the Eucharist. Remember his body and blood as you partake of consecrated bread and wine.
As we make Eucharist together the Lord’s Supper with his disciples becomes present to us in this place, in this time. We take communion together, with each other and with him. And in him we find life – life beyond what the world can know, peace beyond what the world can give, and an inheritance with all the saints that is beyond what we can imagine.
You are invited to the table of the Lord.
Draw near to God, and he will draw near to you.
Come, Lord Jesus, be our guest, and let thy gifts to us be blessed. Amen.
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Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37
Jewish Study Bible (Oxford, 2003)
St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash.,
The 16th Sunday after Pentecost, September 16, 2009.
JRL+
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