The Burial of Terry Tolerton

The Burial of James Terry Tolerton
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
John 6:37-40

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Terry Tolerton was a remarkable man indeed!  Though I did not know him personally, you all did.  That’s why you’re here today.  To pay tribute to a man you loved, who made a difference in your lives.  I have heard a few stories about him, and I’ve read his obituary, and we’ve heard the wonderful testimonies from John, Christina, and Will.  And I can tell just by looking around this room today that he left a great legacy.

And as I thought about all the things Terry did over the course of his 82 years, I realized the common threads running through his life are consistency, and showing up.  I mean you can just run down the list.  Two tours in Vietnam, a war that many people bent over backwards to get out of fighting.  But Terry showed up.  He served his country proudly.

He had a lifelong obsession with golf—which I’m guessing has something to do with why we are gathered in this particular place—but nobody is born a good golfer.  Golf is a game that is perfected over the long hall.  Again: consistency and showing up.  Terry’s level of commitment to family shows these traits as well.  And building a business from one little shop into a multimillion dollar organization.  That happens through consistency and showing up.

And, possibly the greatest example of this was in his final years caring for his beloved wife Judy.  He was there for her, because he loved her.  So often in life it is easier and even tempting to not show up.  To just tell yourself that somebody else will step in.  But the life of Terry Tolerton is a shining example of the value of consistently showing up.  I have no doubt that Terry is greatly missed, for who he was as well as the for example he set for all who knew and remember him.

I hope that you will continue to share your stories and memories of your time with Terry in the days and years ahead.  But here is what I really want you to hold onto as you leave this place today . . .

In the passage of scripture I read a few minutes ago, from John’s gospel, Jesus says, "Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and anyone who comes to me I will never drive away.” And “I will lose nothing of all that he has given me, but raise it up on the last day.”  Jesus is always consistent, and faithful, and keeps showing up, and never loses what is his.  All of us are given the gift of life on this earth, and when our time here is through, we return back to the one who gave us that precious gift of life.

Terry spent his days consistently showing up.  And he passed that attitude on to his children and his friends.  And now he has returned to the one who always shows up, in every circumstance, and every stage of life.  Though Terry is lost to us as we continue to live out our own lives, he is not now—and never was—lost to God.  Because Jesus does not let go of what is his, and God consistently shows up for each one of us, and will raise us up with Terry on the last day.  May God bless Terry Tolerton, and may God bless all of you.

Amen

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 21

Pentecost 21, 2024
Amos 5:6-7,10-15
Psalm 90:12-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The epistle reading from Hebrews and the gospel lesson from Mark go together perfectly today.  And what ties them together is one of my favorite themes of all:  God is God, and we are not.  I feel like I could end right there.  God is God, and we are not.  Amen.

But let me say more.  A man comes up to Jesus and kneels before him and asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  So much to say about this question!  First of all, we don’t know what he means by the phrase “eternal life.”  I’m trying to wean myself from using Greek words in sermons, so I’ll just say that the literal translation of what he is asking for is “age-long life,” that is, life without beginning or end.  He most certainly does not have in mind what we think of as heaven, or God’s kingdom.  He is asking for life that has no beginning or end.  So, again, we don’t know quite what it is he is even asking for here.

Secondly, he uses the phrase, “What must I do to inherit.”  Now, in my family, there is no inheritance coming my way—at least not that I know of.  But if I imagine myself in a family that did have an inheritance laid out in a will, it would never occur to me to ask what I must DO to inherit what is already rightfully mine.  It’s like asking, “What must I do to get a birthday present?”  Or like my cat asking, “What must I do to be fed?”  The answer in all these cases is . . . what . . . exist?  Have a pulse?  You don’t earn an inheritance.  I mean, not in a healthy family.  It’s like asking, “What must I do to earn your love?”

So that shows us the road map ahead here.  The man is working from the assumption that he CAN do something to EARN an inheritance.  And he’s also starting from the vantage point that it’s certainly possible, since he’s been doing and doing and doing all his life.  Then Jesus rattles off the commandments to the guy: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.”  And what does the man say?  “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”

Seriously?  Seriously.  You have kept all these since your youth?  What were you raised by wolves?  And it’s important to note the inclusion of the word “defraud” in this list.  You don’t usually get this in a list of the commandments.  And it makes me wonder if Jesus threw it in there for a reason.  Because a command not to defraud definitely lends itself to the follow up from Jesus, to go and sell everything and give the money to the poor and follow me.  Of course, it’s even possible that the man hasn’t defrauded anyone personally, but is part of a system that oppresses the poor and protects the wealthy.  Which is a whole other sermon.  We don’t know.

But what we do know is that this requirement from Jesus makes the man go away sad.  And, we don’t know if he went and did what Jesus said.  Maybe, maybe not.  However, the entire conversation with Jesus seems rooted in the man trying to justify himself.  I have done all these things since my youth.  So check me out Jesus!  I probably don’t really need to do anything in order to inherit eternal life because I’m rocking it over here.  But I just wanted to be sure you knew how great I am.

And after he goes away sad,  Jesus says to the crowd, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.” And they were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?”  Which makes me ask, wait, was everybody rich?  They hear that it’s hard for the rich to enter the kingdom of heaven, and their response is “then who can be saved?”  And to their astonishment, Jesus says, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”  And that’s the key here.  Impossible for mortals; possible for God.  Whatever their reason for asking, “Then who can be saved?”  Jesus reminds them that God can do for us what we cannot do for ourselves.  God is God, and we are not.

And then, hot on the heels of that exchange, Peter has to go and open his big mouth.  He says, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.”  Translation, Peter is now trying to justify himself, just like the man on his knees.  We’ve been doing an awful lot over here, so check us out Jesus!  We probably don’t really need to do anything in order to inherit eternal life because we’re just rocking it over here.  But we just wanted to be sure you knew how great we are.  Same point, just different words.

Both Peter and the man who approaches Jesus have a secondary agenda.  And that agenda is to let Jesus know just how terrific they are.  Look at what we have done!  All this on our own over here.  We probably don’t even need any help from God because we’re just so darn good!  And it is awfully tempting for us to fall into that same trap.

Look at me Jesus, coming to church and everything.  Making a pledge toward the stewardship campaign.  Bringing in supplies for the animals, and blankets for the needy, and letting the other drivers go first at a four-way stop sign.  We love to pat ourselves on the back.  And we look to others to support us in that.  Praise is a tempting drug for us all.  And—when it comes down to it—the more we do, the harder it is to remember that we can never do enough.  I mean even Mother Teresa needed Jesus!  We cannot earn an inheritance.  But it sure is hard to stop trying!

And that brings us to the epistle reading from Hebrews.  As we heard, “before God no creature is hidden, but all are naked and laid bare to the eyes of the one to whom we must render an account.”  Sounds a lot like the collect for purity.  To you all hearts are open, all desires known, and from you no secrets are hid.  Except we get the addition of “The one to whom we must render an account.”  Sure we are naked and laid bare before God’s eyes, uncomfortable as that sounds, but render an account?  That sounds pretty scary doesn't it?  It’s one thing to be known, but quite another to have to answer for it.

But then we also heard, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses.”  That’s a lot of double negatives, so let’s reword it.  In Jesus, we have a priest who can sympathize with our weaknesses.  Sympathize with our weaknesses.  God knows our failings, and Jesus understands what it is like to be human.  It’s easy to forget that.  But as we say in our Creed every single Sunday, Jesus is fully God and fully human.  He knows what it is like to be us.  And he knows we are unable to do it on our own. Even as we are so anxious to tell God we have followed all these commands from our youth, and have given up everything to follow Jesus.   And that brings us back to the main point: God is God, and we are not.  And then we come to the best part of all the readings today, from Hebrews . . 

“Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”  I think we have to break that sentence down, because it is really really good news if we really can hear it.  

First, God sits on a throne of grace.  Think about how you imagine a throne, and the purpose of a throne.  Thrones are for power and punishment and judgment.  This, however, is a throne of grace.  A throne of unmerited unconditional acceptance.  And when we approach that throne, we receive mercy.  Mercy, not judgement, not demanding an account, not accusation.  We receive mercy.  And we find grace in our time of need, because God knows we need grace, because we can’t do it on our own!  God is God, and we are not.

So hear that sentence again:  “Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.”  With boldness!  We worship a God who knows us intimately, who knows we cannot do it on our own, who knows how much we want to point at all the good stuff we have done in order to win favor, and who still offers us grace upon grace.  We are known, and we are loved.  All that we are and all that we do is known to God, and we are loved.

And together, we can approach the throne of grace with boldness.  Because we are known.  Completely known.  And we are loved.  Completely loved.  And we are always invited to this Altar, where mercy, and grace, and forgiveness, and compassion, and sympathy, and honor, and dignity, and love reign supreme.  Let us approach the throne boldly, because we are boldly loved.

Amen.

The Marriage of Melissa and Anthony

The Marriage of Melissa and Anthony
Proverbs 3:3-6
Philippians 2:2-4

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I’ve done many a wedding over the years.  And I’ve seen some interesting things in those years.  But this is the first time a couple has chosen to use a passage from The Princess Bride as one of the readings.  It is . . . unusual.  But it is not surprising.  Because both Melissa and Anthony have always thought outside the box.  And that’s how they found each other.  By not staying inside the box!

But enough about them.  Now I want to talk about wuv.  Truuue wuv.
I’ve never read the original book, The Princess Bride, but I am very familiar with the movie version.  And I can tell you that the portion we heard a few minutes ago captures the big profession of love toward the end.  In a nutshell, we hear Westley telling the Princess Buttercup that when he says, “As you wish,” what he is really saying is, “I love you.”

From a Christian perspective, this is profound!  From a non-Christian perspective, it is also profound.  Because true love (or true wuv) comes down to surrendering our will to another.  Love does not insist on its own way, as the apostle Paul tells us in First Corinthians.  Setting aside our own way for the sake of another IS love!  It is giving rather than taking.  It is surrendering rather than defying.

Now I can hear all the clergy and social workers’ alarm bells going off when I talk like that.  We’ve seen enough unhealthy co-dependent relationships to know that surrendering in an abusive relationship is not love.  But manipulative relationships are not about love.  Quite the opposite in fact!

So fear not;  that is not what I’m saying at all here.  In a healthy relationship, both partners set aside selfishness.  They are both willing to say “as you wish” every day.  And it only truly works when you both do it.  In any relationship.

And for Christians, the ultimate model of this kind of love is Jesus Christ.  The one who literally gave up his life in order to bring us life.  Now I know that transition sounds like I should have switched to my youth worker whisper voice and grown a goatee.  But what is the death of Jesus if not the very pinnacle of “as you wish?”

But back to mahwidge.  Melissa and Tony have already shown themselves to know how to balance self-worth with “as you wish.”  The readings they chose from Proverbs and Philippians get to this same thing.  Both those biblical texts get at putting others first, and living together in love.  But, in some ways, that Princess Bride reading was the best text these two could have chosen.  Because they get it.  Like, they both get it.  And when two people approach each other as equals in love, they are ready to spend the rest of their lives saying to each other, “As you wish” every single day.

So now I invite the bridal party forward so we can get on with a maywidge!

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 20

Pentecost 20, 2024
Genesis 2:18-24
Psalm 8
Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12
Mark 10:2-16

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I’ve been waiting three years for this gospel text to come up again, because I have more to say about it.  Now, of course, this is a difficult gospel text to hear.  And it is a particularly hard gospel reading for anyone who has gone through the soul-crushing meat grinder that we call “divorce.”  And, sadly, this gospel text is easy for people to hijack for the purpose of making things worse for those who have been divorced, or who are about to be divorced.  Because some people like to quote little pieces of scripture out of context to make other people feel bad.  (You know, like Jesus always tells us to do.)  But let’s start here . . .

Imagine you’re sitting at dinner with your kids, and they are arguing about something or other.  And the older kid is being really mean and making the younger kid cry.  (Because that’s how older kids are, as we younger kids know.)  And you say to the kids, “That’s it!  I don’t want to hear another word out of you.”

After the smoke clears, and the dishes are done, you go and check on the kids and ask how their day was.  And one of them writes their answer on a piece of paper, and when you ask why they are writing, they write, “You told us not to say anything anymore.”  And then you rightly say,  Wait.  Not saying anything was the emergency brake here.  It was the backup to prevent you from doing something worse.  A safety net.  “But you told us never to speak again.”  To prevent further harm!  Now that’s a long way to go to get where I’m going, but, believe it or not, that is what is happening in today’s gospel reading.

As we heard, some Pharisees come to Jesus and, to test him they ask, “Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife?”  They’re Pharisees.  They know the answer to this question already.  But they also know that to answer the question either way will cause division, which is exactly what they are hoping for.  But it’s even trickier.  Because their quote back to Jesus, from Deuteronomy, is not about divorce; it’s about remarrying someone whom you’ve previously divorced, but who has been married to someone else in between.  Don’t even bother trying to follow that.  Let’s rephrase it all a different way.

Let’s pretend that in Deuteronomy it says, “If you bump into someone and they fall down, stop what you are doing and make sure they’re okay before you do anything else.”  And the Pharisees come to Jesus and ask, “Is it okay to push people to the ground?”  And Jesus asks, “What does Moses tell you?”  And they say “Moses says, yes!”  Which is why Jesus then says, “It’s because of your hardness of heart that he wrote this commandment for you.”  Or, as you might say to your kids, “Because you say hurtful things, I made this commandment for you to stop talking.”  The Pharisees are looking to find an excuse to push people to the ground, and they are misusing the Law of Moses as the basis for it.  And in this case, pushing people to the ground is actually, divorcing one’s wife.

“Hey Jesus, is it okay to divorce a woman and leave her to fend for herself with nothing in this first-century culture of ours that devalues women and children?”  Jesus answers, “What does Moses say?”  They respond, “Moses says yes!”  You ask your kids: Did I tell you not to talk anymore?  The kids write “Yes!”

So then Jesus does them one better, and says “. . . from the beginning of creation, ‘God made them male and female.’ ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.”  He turns the conversation from being about the legality of divorce into being about the gift of marriage.  They ask, “Is it okay to demean women and throw them into the street?”  And Jesus responds with, “As God intended from the beginning, men and women are equal.”  This response is no small deal, in that culture, or in ours.  Jesus turns their cynical selfishness into a justification for elevating the downtrodden.  “Hey Jesus, we’ve already got all the power.  Is it lawful for a man to get even more?”  

But we don’t hear this passage from Mark’s gospel that way.  What we hear is, “Don’t get divorced!  Jesus says so!”  But that is not what Jesus is saying to the Pharisees.  He is saying forget your legal trickery for oppressing women and look at the point of marriage: two actual people come together on equal terms, as God intended from the beginning.  But, in response, you might then point to the conversation with his disciples in the house afterward, where Jesus says, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery.”  

And my response to that is, first of all, this is a statement about remarriage, not divorce.  And, more importantly, women did not divorce husbands in that culture!  This is a radical thing to suggest!  In the conversation with the Pharisees and in the conversation with the disciples, Jesus is elevating women to their rightful place as equal with men.  Which might sound good and right so to do . . . but was definitely absurd to the people around Jesus.  It’s like here he goes again, lifting up the lowly, declaring that everyone is loved by God, threatening my value by making someone else my equal, like he did with that Syrophoenician woman a few weeks ago with that crumbs under the table stuff.  What’s next, Jesus, turning our children into our teachers?

Well . . . Jesus said to them, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”  Jesus always turns everything upside down. 

The Pharisees and the disciples were both trying to get legal arguments out of Jesus for the purpose of clarifying what they were allowed to get away with.  This is what adults do, you see.  Tell me the bare minimum I must do against my will in order to get what I am entitled to.  Or, sometimes, let me tell you why I am so deserving of your love, Jesus.  Or, get a load of how worthy I am because of all the things I have collected and hold so tightly in my hands.

But a child?  How does a child approach Jesus?  With open, empty hands, that’s how—just as we saw two weeks ago.  A child can offer nothing.  And in that culture, a child is worth nothing.  That’s why the disciples are trying to keep the children away from Jesus.  These worthless little brats have no business being around Jesus, say the disciples, because Jesus is only interested in the people who matter.  You know, the men . . . who can divorce their wives . . . like Moses says.

This gospel text is not a lesson on the evils of divorce.  And if you want proof, just look at what upsets Jesus here.  It’s not divorce, is it?  No, he is angry with the Pharisees for their hardness of heart, and for trying to twist the gift of the Law of Moses into a justification for mistreating women.  And did you see what makes Jesus indignant in this text?  The disciples’ keeping the children away from him.  Jesus doesn’t love the children because they’re cute; he focuses on them because they are insignificant and rejected, which is what makes them first, rather than last.

Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”  So—just like two weeks ago—we must ask ourselves, how does a child receive the kingdom of God?  How does a child receive anything?  The key to answering that question is to focus on the word, “receive.”  The word is not “earn,” or “deserve,” or “demand.”  No, the word is receive.  Children receive things because children cannot go out and get them on their own.  Children rely on the kindness and love of the adults around them—for better or for worse.  Which is why when the disciples try to stop them, Jesus becomes indignant.  Which is a very strong response when you think of it.  He is indignant that they would keep the children from him.  Indignant!

“Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.”  How do we receive something?  We stretch out our hands.  Our empty hands.  Nothing to offer; everything to gain.  This is how a child receives the gifts of God.  And it is also how the people of God receive the gifts of God.  We come to this Altar and stretch out our hands.  And if someone tries to stop us, we know that Jesus will be indignant.  Because you are welcome to this meal.  You are called to this heavenly banquet.  All of us equal.  All of us welcome.  All of us little children of God.  

And that’s when Jesus can take us up in his arms, lays his hands on us, and bless us beyond anything we can ever imagine.  Open your hands and receive the gifts of God.

Amen.

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 19

Pentecost 19, 2024
Numbers 11:4-6,10-16,24-29
Psalm 19:7-14
James 5:13-20
Mark 9:38-50 

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

We could look at this gospel text as having two parts.  There’s good news at the beginning, and there’s bad news at the end.  Unfortunately, the good news comes first, and it ends on what sounds like a scary note.  And since you never want to start with the good news, I think it helps to take things in reverse order here.  So the first shall be last and the last shall be first.  Start with the ending, you could say.

So, in what I will call the “first part” of today’s gospel, Jesus is giving a series of warnings to various people.  For those who put a stumbling block in front of one of these “little ones,” it would be better to have a millstone tied around their neck and be thrown into the sea.  A “stumbling block” in this context means anything that would cause them to leave the faith community.

Now, at the risk of doing what every preaching professor tells you not to do, I have to make a clarification about the original Greek language here. The phrase that gets translated as “little ones who believe in me” is mikron pisteuonton.  Which means, “small faith people.”  If you’re like me, when you hear the phrase “little ones,” you probably imagine little children.  But it doesn’t mean, “children;” it means “little faith ones.”  It’s like a term of endearment:  My little faith ones.  Better to have a millstone tied around your neck than to cause a little faith one to stumble and leave the community.

A millstone!  You’ve seen millstones, right?  Huge chunk of rock with a hole in the middle.  Like a giant stone bagel.  Tied around your neck.  This is Jesus saying this.  I find it compelling and important to note: this is not a punishment for causing a little faith one to stumble.  No, Jesus is just saying, “Given the choice between causing a little faith one to lose their faith, and swimming with the cement necklace, you should choose the river.”  Now, I am not clear on how much hyperbole to read into this statement.  But I think the point is clear.

We then move forward into the next section, which is where we get to the severed limbs and stuff.  This is violent, bloody, gruesome, horrific language.  And yet, the words seem to be delivered like advice from the Farmer’s Almanac. “If your hands get cold, put on your gloves.  If your eye causes you pain, see a doctor.  If your foot causes you to stumble, have that heel checked.”  The lack of passion in the phrases makes me think it is a teaching moment, not a damning moment.  After all, Jesus is talking to his friends here.  I would guess he’s using dramatic language to make a dramatic point.  And I think the dramatic point is this:  

Before you go throwing someone out because he or she is an obstacle to faith, consider whether you would just as likely cut off your hand.  Before you reject someone from the community on the grounds that they are different, consider whether you would cut off your foot for this. 

By all means, there are times when drastic action is called for.  It’s better to lose one part of the body than for the whole thing to be destroyed.  But, Jesus is saying, think carefully.  Remember the example with the severed limbs.  (And how could they not?)  That’s the kind of damage you’ll do to the body of believers.  Dramatic language to make a dramatic point.

Now we move the “the end” of today’s reading, by which I mean the beginning, where we find the gospel in today’s gospel.

The set up is, the disciples come to Jesus and say, “Hey, some guys are casting out demons in your name and they forgot to make a pledge with the church treasurer.”  Jesus responds, “Whoever is not against us is for us.”  Whoever is not against us is for us . . . where have we heard that phrase before?  From the rubble at Ground Zero?  In political campaign stops?  Not quite.  What we heard in those instances (and many more) was this: Whoever is not for us is against us.  But Jesus is saying, “Whoever is not against us is for us.”  A drastically different thing.  To say that the ones not on your side are your enemies is in fact the exact opposite of what Jesus is saying. 

The politician rules out those who don’t tow the line.  The savior of the world rules in all who do not exclude themselves.  The politician says agree or get out.  The savior says agree or disagree; all are welcome.  The politician draws a line of rejection in the sand.  The savior draws all people to himself.  As I say, a dramatic difference.

Jesus does not count people out.  Jesus does not throw people out, or cut them off, or hunt them down.  Jesus welcomes all people.  Jesus welcomes all sinners.  And this is truly good news.  Because that means you and I are welcome, no matter what—even if we didn’t fill out the pledge card at the church office.  If we are not against Jesus, we are on his side.  Simple as that.

And we saw a similar thing in the first reading, from the book of Numbers.  Someone runs up to Moses and says, “Eldad and Medad are prophesying in the camp.” And Joshua says, “My lord Moses, stop them!” And Moses asks, “Are you jealous for my sake? Would that all the Lord’s people were prophets, and that the Lord would put his spirit on them!” 

The disciples in the gospel reading, and Joshua in the book of Numbers are both trying to set up an exclusive club.  Trying to limit God to using the canonically approved resources.  Their position is the exclusive one the politicians use:  If you’re not for us, you are against us.  But both Jesus and Moses start from the other end:  If you are not against us, you are with us.  If you are not actively against Jesus, then you are for Jesus.  Simple as that.

And the best news of all is this:  even when we are against Jesus, even when we are not loving God with our whole heart, even when we are not loving our neighbor as ourself, Jesus is still with us, still for us.  Literally.  Every time we come to this Altar, Jesus is for us.  In the body broken and the blood poured, Jesus is for us.  

Freely offered to all, even though we confess that we have sinned against God in thought, word, and deed.  And that’s the whole point.  Jesus offers himself for our sinful fallen world, laying down his life for all.  He is not against us.  He is for us.  He is for you.  He is for me.  He is given, for us.

Amen.   

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 18

Pentecost 18, 2024
Jeremiah 11:18-20
Psalm 54
James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a
Mark 9:30-37

In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

I think we can all agree that this gospel reading is an adorable story, right?  Jesus picking up a little child, and telling the adults in the room that little people are important.  And that adorable part is the part we remember, because . . . well, it’s just so adorable!  That’s why people watch videos of cats and red pandas online: because they’re just so adorable.  

But, of course, there’s more to the story we just heard.  Jesus’ object lesson with the little child is in response to something the disciples were doing.  You remember, today’s gospel reading starts with Jesus telling his disciples about how he must die.  The Son of Man will be betrayed into human hands, they will kill him, and he will rise again.  The disciples did not understand, and were afraid to ask him. 

And so instead, the disciples do what any reasonable person might do.  They start arguing about who is the greatest.  You know, because that makes sense.  It is interesting to me that we don’t hear exactly what they are arguing about.  It is tempting to assume that they are each making the case for themselves.  You know, Peter is saying how he is the most inspirational, and Thomas is arguing that he is the most intellectual.  Judas claiming he’s got the corner on fundraising.  Or, it’s also possible that the disciples are arguing for one another.  That John is propping up Andrew, and Peter is defending Judas.  But it could be that they’re arguing about the greatest something else, like who is the best guitarist, or who is the best quarterback.  We don’t really know.

What we do know is that this arguing comes hot on the heels of Jesus’ explaining how he must die.  And this is not the first time in Mark’s gospel that Jesus does this.  Just last week, for example.  And it’s not the only time the disciples react the wrong way like this.  Just last week, for example.  Jesus keeps telling the disciples about his mission, and how his mission is leading to his death.  And every time the disciples not only miss the point, but take off on a completely inappropriate conversation.

Imagine that you’re telling someone about how you see that the end of your life is approaching, and they respond with arguing about who is the best dancer, or who bakes the best cakes.  Or, like Peter last week, telling you that you’re not allowed to die.  Today, the disciples are hearing and not understanding.  But Jesus' words seem pretty clear.  Are they just overwhelmed?  Is this just all too much for them?  

What’s going on here?  

Well, this lack of understanding is a theme that runs through the gospel of Mark.  But it’s a lack of understanding by the ones who are closest to Jesus:  The disciples, the friends, the close companions.  These are the ones who just don’t get it.  But, you know who actually does get it in Mark’s gospel?  You know who actually understands who Jesus is and what he is doing?  

The demons, that’s who!  The demons are the ones who consistently get it right, calling Jesus “Son of God.”  Recognizing his power as God’s son, which is rooted in his death and resurrection.  

The disciples keep clinging to some kind of earthly power.  The disciples want Jesus to come blasting in, kicking things and taking names.  This is the one who’s going to finally make everything turn out right.  The disciples have left their homes and families, and—quite frankly—they’ve given up their lives to follow him.  So when Jesus starts talking about how he’s going to suffer and die . . . well, with all due respect, Jesus, that’s not exactly what we had in mind.  And so, they start arguing about who is the greatest.  It does kind of make sense, when you think about it.  Jesus is the one who is being inappropriate, in their minds.  I mean, how can his mission of overthrowing the oppressors, and setting the captives free, and all that, how can that possibly be accomplished if he’s intending to go and die on us?

Right.  So they argue about who is the greatest . . . something.  When Jesus asks them what they’re arguing about, it probably makes us uncomfortable.  I mean, we live in the midwest—or, we’re midwest adjacent at least.  And for most of us, arguing is bad manners, or at least awkward.  We like for everyone to get along, even when it might be good to argue.  Hearing that the disciples of Jesus are arguing doesn’t feel right.  But watch how Jesus responds to their arguing.

He gathers the disciples in a circle.  And he takes a child and places it in the middle of them.  Stop right there and notice the word “it.”  No name, no gender.  A child in that culture has absolutely no power, no status, no worth, no nothing, and a child can offer nothing in return, or give anything back.

So he sets the child in the middle of them, wraps his arms around the child and says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”  Stop again and notice that Jesus wraps his arms around the child in the midst of the community of disciples.  Jesus does not run out into the desert and wrap his arms around a child.  Nor does Jesus pick out a child already standing in the community.  No, Jesus picks up the child, and sets “it” inside the community first.  What does that mean?  Maybe nothing.  Maybe everything.  But I think it is significant that when Jesus is showing his disciples how to be welcoming, he puts the child in the middle of them.  Someone who wasn’t there five minutes ago is now standing there in the midst of them.  Because Jesus put them there.  We move on . . .

Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.  Think back to what the disciples were doing right before this moment.  They were arguing about who is the greatest, right?  And Jesus has now placed among them one who is the least.  The smallest.  The most insignificant.  Someone who is not going to be noticed by a group of people so busy arguing over who is the greatest.  When we think about welcoming Jesus, we probably think about looking busy, or dusting off Bibles, or preparing our humility badges.  It’s really, really hard to imagine welcoming Jesus by welcoming a child . . . isn’t it?  When we look for Jesus, we want to look up, not down.  To the clouds shining in glory, not the kid playing in the sandbox.

But there’s another side to this welcoming the least among us.  And that is, each one of us is also the least among us.  Each one of us is also in need of being the child in this example Jesus gives us.  I need—and you need—for Jesus to pick us up, set us in the middle of the community of disciples, and then scoop us up in his arms.  Though we try to welcome the child as Jesus says, we are also the child being welcomed.  Jesus asks each of us to welcome a child in his name, but he also asks each of us to let ourselves be welcomed in his name.

And, just as importantly, today Jesus asks that you let him welcome you, here, at this Altar.  Jesus promises to meet us in this meal, saying, “This is my body.  This is my blood.”  And the only way to accept that promise is to receive it as a child.  Take it on faith, just as a child does, because—let’s be honest—it hardly makes sense to our rational brains.  

We accept it as true . . . or, we hope to accept it as true . . . but the more you try to explain what happens in Holy Communion, the farther it slips out of your grasp.

And how fitting it is that we receive the body and blood of Jesus the way a child might accept a gift.  Hands outstretched, and empty.  Reaching out our hands to receive him, offering nothing in return.  With our hands held in front of us, accepting what seems impossible: that God’s embrace comes to each one of us in our own outstretched hands.  We extend our hands, like a child, and say “Amen” to the bread of heaven and the cup of salvation.  And we accept the embrace of God within this community, gathered here.  Because God has picked you up today, and set you in this community, and wrapped you in the embrace of the love of Jesus.  As God's beloved child.

Amen.

   

YEAR B 2024 pentecost 17

Pentecost 17, 2024
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 116:1-8
James 3:1-12
Mark 8:27-38

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  Amen.

In today’s gospel reading, Peter calls Jesus the Christ, or the Messiah.  You and I just kind of gloss right over this and say, “Well, yeah.  Welcome to the club, Pete.”  But it’s important to see this reading in the scope of Mark’s entire gospel.  In the first chapter of Mark, in the first verse, we read, “The beginning of the good news[ of Jesus [the] Christ, the Son of God.”  Right out of the gate, Mark calls Jesus the Christ.  And then . . . nothing.  All this exciting stuff happens for 8 chapters, healings, and teachings, and feedings, and nowhere is Jesus called the Christ, or the Messiah.  For 8 whole chapters, no mention of Christ or Messiah.

And then, suddenly, we come to today’s reading.  Chapter 8, verse 29, Peter calls Jesus the Messiah, the Christ.  And we would expect Jesus to say, “Exactly!”  But he doesn’t, does he?  Before that, Jesus asks them, who do people say that I am.  And they give that list: John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets.  And then Jesus asks “But who do you say that I am?”  Or, actually, what he asks is more like, “Who are you saying that I am?”  You know, when you talk to people about me, who do you tell them I am?  And Peter answers, we’ve been telling them that you are the Messiah.  The Christ.  By which, Peter means, We tell them that you are the one who has come to take over the world, and destroy Rome, and restore Israel to its rightful place.  And then Jesus sternly orders them not to tell anyone.

Why?  Why doesn’t Jesus yell, “Yeah buddy!” and high five everyone in the group?  I mean, this is the One they’ve been waiting for.  Jesus is the one foretold by the prophets, the one proclaimed in the Psalms, the one who will finally lead God’s people to victory over their oppressors.  And Jesus says, don’t tell anyone?  What kind of PR strategy is this?  And then it gets even stranger, as Jesus starts describing what he is going to endure.  

And after Jesus describes what he must go through, Peter takes him aside and rebukes him.  And then Jesus rebukes Peter.  And then calls him Satan, for setting his mind on human things, rather than divine things.  I mean . . . that escalated quickly!  This story does not go where we would expect it to go, does it?  Instead of heading to the front of the class for having the right answer, Peter gets called Satan and is told that the right answer is the wrong answer.  How did this happen?  Well, we get our answer in what Jesus says after his rebuke  . . . to Peter’s rebuke.

It’s important to keep in mind that Peter has this Hail the Conquering Hero mindset about the Messiah.  And he’s not alone . . . everyone thought that way.  That’s why the Romans feared the Messiah, whenever he might appear.  God’s Messiah was supposed to be a great military leader, riding victorious over God’s enemies, because the only way to beat military strength is through greater military strength.  That’s how the world works.  Remember President Reagan’s slogan, "Peace through Strength?"  Although—fact check—the Roman Emperor Hadrian said, “Peace through strength or, failing that, peace through threat.”  To bring peace, God’s Messiah would need to be a powerful warrior in order to overcome a powerful oppressor.

But Jesus says, “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake . . . will save it.”  This is not how we think.  You save something by losing it?  You lose something by saving it?  This makes no sense to us.  If you want to win, you have to be strong.  That’s how winning works!

We want to stand strong for God.  Stand up for God.  Be the Christian nation that conquers for God.  Like, we want to be the championship 2016 Cavaliers, not the 2017 one-win Browns.  We want to be winners, but God comes to us in our losses.  We want God to see us standing strong; but we need God in our weakness and pain.  The idea that Jesus prevents suffering is a lie.  (We have all suffered plenty enough in our lives to know this.)  And the idea that Jesus causes suffering is also a lie.  (Jesus spends all his time healing people, and feeding people, and helping people, never hurting them.)  But God preventing suffering and causing suffering are two lies that are hard to shake.  The earliest Christians were tortured and killed.  But in our modern understanding of Christianity, we like to believe that Jesus will keep us safe.  Yet we know that’s not true.  Jesus does not save us from suffering.  Jesus saves us in our suffering.  

So, Jesus says, “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake . . . will save it.”  This is radical to Peter.  And it is even more radical to us.  Every message we hear is the opposite of this:  Get more, hold tighter, secure the border, protect what’s ours, take from the losers, give to those who have plenty.  The idea of laying down our life for others is radical, foolish, stupid, and even rebuke-able.

We think that more will make us happy.  Jesus says less will.  We say strength gives life.  Jesus says weakness does.  A world where you win by surrender, and gain by giving away?!?  Who wants THAT world?

Jesus does.  

Look.  Nobody said Christianity is easy.  Well, that’s not true.  Everybody says it is.  All the time.  Everyone except Jesus.  Which should tell us something about what we think being a Christian is all about.  We must be careful not to tie Christianity to world domination.  Or winning.  Or defeating our enemies through strength.  In today’s culture, that is easy to do.  The military and the cross are two very different things, literally representing victory and defeat.  To conflate the two brings a rebuke from Jesus.  We are called to take up our cross—not our sword—and follow Jesus.

And let me be clear:  I’m not saying we shouldn’t have a strong national defense, or that protecting us by serving in our country’s armed forces is somehow wrong.  Every country needs to protect its citizens.  I’m just saying that conquering our enemies is not what Christianity is about.  How do I know?  Because Jesus says so.  Right here.

When Peter calls Jesus the Messiah, he is thinking about a righteous military overthrow of the enemy.  He is planning to follow Jesus with a sword into victory.  And Jesus says, yes, follow him.  But carry your cross, not your sword.  Only by walking into death with Jesus will we rise to new life in Jesus.  

This is what baptism is all about, and that is why it is the entry point into the church.  We are drowned in the waters of baptism, and lifted up into new life with Jesus.  In some ways, that dangerous, powerful imagery of the Rite of Baptism gets lost in the gentle sprinkling of drops on a baby’s head.  But the message is still there:  Only by giving up will we gain.  Only in the death of Jesus will we find new life.  Only by dying will we live.  

Jesus came to serve on earth, and now rules in heaven.  Peter got it backwards in today’s gospel.  But it’s easy to see how that happens.  We worship the one who laid down his life for us.  This is a hard teaching.  This is an upside down teaching.  This goes against everything we know and trust about the world.  But it is what Jesus tells us.  And it is what Jesus shows us.

And you can see it most clearly in the Eucharist.  Only by laying down his life can Jesus be present at this Altar.  Only by surrendering can Jesus rise victorious.  The one we gather to worship promises to, somehow, be present in this bread and wine.  He offers himself to us again this morning in a tiny piece of bread and a few drops of wine.  He gives himself to us so that he can live in us, providing healing, and forgiveness, and hope to the broken world outside those doors.  

These mysteries are hard to understand.  Christianity is not easy.  Jesus told us so himself.  And it’s okay that we get it wrong.  But today, may God give to each of us the courage to surrender, the strength to serve, and the will to lay down our life for others.  The way of the cross is the way of life.

Amen.