rosebuds

The way to greatness is not what the disciples expect. It is not about being welcomed as great, but about welcoming even the least and littlest. How are we doing that?

What Jesus teaches us, his fellow servants, in his second warning of the passion, of the suffering, betrayal, death, and resurrection of the Christ, is that to be greatest of all is to be servant of all. And, further, that the Messiah is the Suffering Servant. 

This is not what we signed up for, is it? The disciples seem to think that they are on the road to thrones of their own and crowns of their own. Yes, it will all work out: Revelation says so. But those crowns come after and through suffering - and not around it. The role of a disciple and its reward comes in sharing in the passion and death, and the resurrection, of the suffering servant, the teacher they have come to know as Christ.

Oblivious to what he has just said to them, again, that the son of man must suffer betrayal and death, before undergoing resurrection, they begin to quibble and bargain and argue over, of all things, who among them is greatest. 

And that is when Jesus calls to himself the last and least expected: a little child. Kids were nowhere in ancient times; in fact, in ancient and even more recent societies, they were seen as inconveniences, underpowered little adults at best. But here again, as he had at the feeding of the multitude with the offerings of a child, Jesus turns the expected order of things right side up.

They expect to be lauded as great; they are already planning ahead. Is this the day you will restore Israel? they breathe with anticipation: triumph is coming, and they will share in it. 

Not so fast.

Greatness comes through servanthood, the servanthood of the suffering servant. 

And it is in the Wisdom of Solomon, as well as in the prophet Isaiah, that we learn how that will go down.

A long mocking diatribe by the disbelievers tells of the evanescence of life, its sure end in oblivion. And so let us party today, for it is all we have. And mock those who live in hope.

Verse 8 (“Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds, before they be withered”) even anticipates the poet, who expresses their attitude very well:

Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying;

And this same flower that smiles today

Tomorrow will be dying.

[Robert Herrick (1591-1674) ‘To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time’] 

The ungodly in despair or cynicism make a pact with death; attempting to befriend it. But they are deceived; they do not know that innocence would have its reward. The ways of God are hidden to them, a mystery, as secret as the Messiah - until that day they stand before his throne.

So there is a mystery. And an anticipation of Christ’s passion and the mockery he will endure.

“He threw himself on the Lord for rescue, let the Lord deliver him, for he holds him dear!” (Isaiah 57:8) 

“He trusted in God, did he? Let God rescue him, if he wants him - for he said he was God’s son.” (Matthew 27:43)

The ungodly reckon without justice and immortality. The Messiah comes among the people, bringing to them the hope of justice, proclaiming and enacting restoration - healing, casting out demons - and embodying the promise of immortality.

Jesus admonishes the oblivious even among his disciples. They don’t get it - yet. 

A child of God, a servant of God: like the least and little child Jesus ‘suffers’ to come unto him, the followers of Jesus are called to welcome the innocent, the unrewarding, those who can do nothing for them, certainly not worldly preferment or the best place in the kingdom of heaven.

The hard road that Jesus reveals, that he invites his disciples to travel with him, is the road, first to Jerusalem, with all it means, and then, through the Cross not around it, finally to glory.

May we learn to walk with him, and welcome even the least as we would welcome him, as we travel the Way with him.

O God, Wisdom of the universe,

you bear the pain of your people.

Grant us the gift of wisdom,

that we may discern your way

and live justly and graciously

amid the struggles of this world. Amen.

So far what we have said sounds very personal, appealing to each of us individually. But Scripture and the Word of God speak to us not simply as discrete persons, but as members of societies, as peoples of nations, and of course ultimately as the people of God.

In recent days it has been hard to leave unquestioned how we as a nation among modern nations have done. We have sought to change the world, even far away, and have done well and not so well, in recent days. 

Often the United States and Canada and western Europe and their friends respond most quickly to the needs of others, when war, civil strife, or natural disaster harm those near or far away. 

In the forefront of our minds in recent days has been the memorial anniversary of the terrorist attacks of twenty years ago, and their modern aftermath. The extremist hosts of terrorists are back in power, or the chaos we would have hoped to prevent is overwhelming our erstwhile friends.

Recently I read, with the sense of irony required, a recent book entitled, “Are We Rome? The Fall of an Empire and the Fate of America”. (2007) 

It is actually a hopeful book, calling us to be the best of ourselves. The author, Cullen Murphy, departs from the expected ‘compare and contrast’ exercise, pointing out where we can be our exceptional selves. 

Exceptional, not in the exclusive sense that we are still after all Top Nation, but that nations, peoples, and societies, can respond to the call to righteousness just as individual people, or congregations, do.

And in one particular way that comes home to us now. Like ancient Rome, modern America must respond to the influx of strangers across its borders. We here in the Southwest are well aware of the challenges facing those who cross, legally or illegally, the border through the desert from Mexico. 

We are also cognizant of the challenge facing America as it is called to welcome as refugees and new Americans its friends and allies from the fallen regime of Afghanistan.

Lutherans have been at the forefront of welcoming and resettling refugees for many years; along with Roman Catholics, secular agencies, and others.

Now once again on a national scale and perhaps even a local level, it is time to receive the stranger, the innocent and the not-so-innocent, as we would welcome Christ himself. For as we do, we welcome him, and the One who sent him.

Not all cute little kids; not all happy. But all the children of God, as are we.

May we with wisdom indeed welcome them as Christ welcomes us.

O God, our teacher and guide,

you draw us to yourself

and welcome us as beloved children.

Help us to lay aside our envy and selfish ambition,

that we may walk in your ways of wisdom and understanding

as servants of your peace. Amen.

BProper20 2021 / Lectionary 25 / Pentecost 17

RCL Track 2

Wisdom of Solomon 1:16-2:1, 12-22 [or Jeremiah 11:18-20].  

Psalm 54  •  James 3:13 - 4:3, 7-8a  •  Mark 9:30-37

This Sunday, September 19, we will welcome a new transitional pastor who we hope will be with us until our new called pastor arrives. Rev. Dr. John Leech is ordained in the Episcopal Church and has served as pastor in northern California and western Washington, as well as now in southern Arizona where, among other things, he is on call as a chaplain for Tucson Medical Center one night per week. He was baptized by his great-grandfather, Rev. Harvey M. Leech, who served as pastor of First Lutheran Church in Oakland, CA and St. Michael’s Lutheran Church in Berkeley, CA. So, he is not a stranger to things Lutheran! As Bishop Hutterer has advised and approved, the provision of “full communion” reciprocity between the ELCA and the Episcopal Church makes it possible for those ordained in one church to serve in another. Please give Rev. Leech a warm welcome on Sunday! [Footnotes, parish newsletter, Lutheran Church of the Foothills, Tucson, Friday 9/27/21]

https://www.foothillslutherantucson.org/

https://www.foothillslutherantucson.org/?wix-vod-video-id=tSXgOqixYco&wix-vod-comp-id=comp-keyll888

a partner for life

The truly capable woman – who can find her? She is far beyond the price of pearls.

(Proverbs 31:10 NJB)

It is about you; it isn’t just about you.

It is about a woman, capable, strong, powerful, productive, full of virtues. She is Ruth, Naomi, Esther, Sarah, Lydia, Mary, and Old Mrs. Lynch, all rolled into one.

But it’s about more than that, and about more of us than just wives. It is in fact advice for all people. This passage completes the book of Proverbs – a book about Wisdom, how and why to have Wisdom with you in your life.

This advice you might say is for a young man starting out in life: “What you need is a good wife… Ah! But who can find a truly capable woman?”

But this advice is not just advice to a young man on seeking a spouse and helpmeet. It is advice to all people of faith on the partner each of us needs to team up with, whatever our station in life – single, married, old, young, male or female.

Wisdom is the partner that you need beside you – and Wisdom is the companion, the guide, that the Church, the people of God, need as they journey together on the path God sets before them.

Like Sarah and Abraham setting out for the land of promise, we, the people of God today, seek God’s leading and desire God’s guiding presence.

This partner is with us, and vindicates us, even when it seems that no human partner is available. The un-chosen maiden, the childless couple, the bereaved grandmother, the lonely child: these are God’s people, God’s chosen, God’s beloved, God’s blessed ones; and their companion is Wisdom.

The spirit of Wisdom is the Spirit of God. God is present with us. Emmanuel. Even now.

Like a dove descending, like a pillar of fire, like a quiet ripple on the water, like thunder.

Like - a truly capable woman.

We can be open to God’s leading, if we realize – God is with us. Wisdom is our partner.

And we are on the journey together. 

Proverbs 31:10-31
Psalm 1
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37
Proper 20
 

the greatest sermon ever

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

*

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.

+

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+

downward mobility

Jesus and his disciples went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, "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." But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him. 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. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, "Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." Then 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." (Mark 9:30-37)

On this journey Jesus tries to hide from public view and avoid publicity. He is trying to teach his disciples something difficult, something mysterious.

For the second of three times, as they travel together, he teaches the disciples that he – the Son of Man, the Messiah, the holy one of Israel – must be betrayed, and suffer, must be killed, and rise again.

The disciples don’t get it. Instead, they argue among themselves who is the greatest.

Jesus teaches the need for humble service.
Whoever would be first must be last,
Whoever would be greatest must be least.

Whoever would find himself must lose himself, deny himself, become lost.

Jesus teaches by paradox – there is no worldly purpose to what he is saying.

Whoever receives one such child, receives me,
Whoever receives me, receives not me but the one who sent me.

Can those who are last have a deeper relationship with Jesus, who made himself last by accepting the Cross?

Indeed, Jesus himself – the Messiah, the holy one of God – has cast aside worldly greatness. In an upwardly mobile world, he seeks

DOWNWARD MOBILITY

For he did not clutch to himself equality with God but humbled himself and became human, became one of us, taking the form even of a servant. And he has promised us that where we have visited the sick, fed the hungry, visited the prisoner – the last, the least, the lost – there we have found him.

Receive as Christ “the last, the least, the lost” (Dean Baker’s phrase).

In the brokenness of humanity we meet him. In the brokenness of others, however unlovely, there we find him. And we find him – and he finds us – in our own most unlovely, broken places. There he is, in the midst of us: his body, broken for us, his blood, shed for us, his life, given for us.

Welcoming the discarded child within yourself is also welcoming Christ.
The child you receive may be the Christ Child.
The Christ child receives you.

Where were you? We ask God: in the midst, hungry, naked, oppressed, poor, in mourning, in Eucharist, in celebration, in the hope of the resurrection.


In assurance of eternal life given at Baptism, let us proclaim our faith and say,

We believe in God...

Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to you Richard Yale’s father, our brother Ted, who was reborn by water and the Spirit in Holy Baptism. Grant that his death may recall to us your victory over death, and be an occasion for us to renew our trust in your Father’s love. Give us, we pray, the faith to follow where you have led the way; and where you live and reign with the Father and the Holy Spirit, to the ages of ages. Amen.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace, as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13) And may the blessing of God Almighty, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, be upon you and remain with you always. Amen.