Evangelical, Poestenkill & Faith, Troy
22 September 2024 + Lectionary 25b
Mark 9:30-37
Rev. Josh Evans
I wonder what prompted their conversation about greatness.
Were they planning for the future?
For Jesus’ replacement?
For which one of them would naturally take over when he is killed,
a fact he has told them (at least) twice now?
Were they wondering who was in Jesus’ “inner circle”?
(Unaware that he even had an “inner circle” until now?)
After all, it was only Peter, James, and John who just got to witness the Transfiguration – the dazzling spectacle on the mountain.
“Where does that leave us?” wonders Bartholomew
(or Thaddaeus, or whichever lesser-known disciple).
Or was it just the human tendency towards self-inflation,
which we know all too well –
the desire to prove ourselves,
to be the best, to achieve the most,
to have prestige and status and honor?
Some are born great, some achieve greatness…
and others bicker endlessly about who’s the greatest.
Enter … the disciples.
It’s like they haven’t been paying attention –
“If any wish to come after me,” Jesus says, “let them deny themselves” – renounce their status and prestige – “and take up their cross and follow me.”
Or maybe, they’ve been paying perfect attention –
and they just don’t like what they hear.
“Who do you say that I am?” Jesus asks.
And without skipping a beat, Peter blurts out:
“You are the Messiah!”
You’re the Anointed One, our long-promised deliverer who’s going to crush our imperial oppressors and political enemies, who’s going to dominate, who’s going to restore Israel’s rightful status and prestige, to make us GREAT again!
Wouldn’t you want the same,
if you, like Peter and the rest of the disciples,
were at the bottom of the social and political ladder?
Wouldn’t you want a Messiah who’s going to shake things up
and flip that ladder upside down?
It’s only natural… it’s only human…
But it’s not what Jesus has in mind.
“If any wish to come after me,
let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
Jesus doesn’t deny that he’s the Messiah,
but he rejects what the disciples want the Messiah to be.
And to make matters worse, he says it’s going to lead to the cross?
Language which would have been crystal clear in a political climate that used the threat of violence and death to silence its enemies.
Language they just … didn’t … want … to hear.
“They did not understand what he was saying” –
or they didn’t want to understand what he was saying.
Either way, they were afraid to ask questions,
afraid of what the answers might be,
and so let’s talk about something else – anything else –
and maybe Jesus will stop talking about this too.
But Jesus doesn’t stop.
Jesus doubles down.
Jesus calls out their conversation,
calls out their avoidance of the hard questions,
calls them back to his mission,
calls them back to their mission.
“You see this kid?
This one without any political or social standing?
This is what it’s all about.”
This is how we resist the empire:
to center the vulnerable,
to make space for those who have been ignored, rejected, and cast aside,
to listen to them, to love them,
to offer them a place of belonging and dignity.
Jesus, as Jesus is so fond of doing,
flips things upside down:
challenging traditional ideas of greatness –
dominance and control, status and prestige, honor and glory –
and instead, offers something different, something hopeful, something life-giving:
the greatness of vulnerability and compassion,
humility and service,
love and mercy.
This is our mission:
to love people and to take care of them.
It’s even in our constitutions as congregations and as a synod –
which I’ve read more of this past weekend at our synod council retreat than I think I ever have in my entire life.
As we looked over the chapter on our “Statement of Purpose,”
first on our own and then in small groups,
we were encouraged to name the top three paragraphs that stood out to us.
Overwhelmingly, we all came back to Chapter 6.02.C, which –
in case you, like me up until less than 48 hours ago, don’t know – says:
“To participate in God’s mission, the Church shall… Serve in response to God’s love to meet human needs, caring for the sick and the aged, advocating dignity, justice, and equity for all people, working for peace and reconciliation among the nations, caring for the marginalized, embracing and welcoming racially and ethnically diverse populations, and standing in solidarity with the poor and oppressed and committing itself to their needs.”
That’s the kind of movement Jesus is building.
That’s the kind of greatness Jesus is calling his disciples to.
***
There’s no question the church is changing.
The ELCA of 2024 is not the same as the ELCA of 1988 when the ELCA came to be. It’s not the same as the many predecessor denominations from which we all came in the decades before. It’s certainly not the same as the time of the early church in Acts.
But the movement of Jesus is the same,
yesterday, today, and tomorrow:
A movement of resistance.
A revolution of love.
A way that is so countercultural and counterintuitive,
it doesn’t make any sense.
The movement and the way of Jesus
is not measured by the greatness of its size or budget –
but by the greatness of its welcome,
reflecting the greatness of God’s love.
Our status and prestige,
our buildings,
our worship attendance,
our busy programming and our full calendars,
our budgets and our endowments,
our storied histories,
our bishops, our councils, our pastors –
these will not save us.
These things have never made us great.
Our commitment to the gospel,
to the lost and the least,
to the vulnerable and the cast aside –
this is what makes us great.
Great in love and mercy.
Great in service and compassion.
Great in justice and advocacy.
…
If we’re looking for a return to the “greatness” of the church of ages past,
if we get stuck in our ideas of what we want the church to be,
we’re probably going to be disappointed.
But if we’re up for a challenge and open to grace,
Jesus promises:
It’s going to be great.