September 23, 2012
Sermon Text: Mark 9: 30-37
When I
sit down with a Biblical text to prepare a sermon, I find that my head is
filled with questions as soon as I start reading. When I read this week’s
passage from Mark, the question that immediately popped for me and wouldn’t let
me go was this: who acts this way?
I was
reading along and got to the part where Jesus asks the disciples what they had
been arguing about on the road to Carpernaum and they were embarrassed to
answer because they had been debating about who among them was the greatest.
Who acts this way? I mean, really – a bunch of grown men and they’re squabbling
like a bunch of children over who is the coolest? Who has the most points? Who
gets to stand at the front of the line? Who acts this way?
I
mean, sure, we all think about it. Whether or not you’re conscious of it, you
are constantly sizing yourself up against the people around you and debating
internally about who is better – you or them. Comparing yourself inside your
own head from time to time, sure. But to actually talk about this out loud?
With your adult friends? Who does this?!?
So
with that question looming in my head, “Who acts this way?” I sat with the text
this week.
It
pestered me. And then an answer came to me. I know who acts this way. I’ve seen
these people. At times, I’ve even been these people. People who are worried about
their status are people who are scared.
What
were the disciples scared of? It us right there in the text what they’re scared
of. They’re scared of Jesus.
He
told them, once again, about how he would be killed and then be raised. And,
yet again, they didn’t understand. But – and here’s the key part – they didn’t
ask any questions because they were afraid.
Afraid
of what? Jesus, I think.
Although
we often love to think of Jesus as a dear, sweet friend or just generally a
perfect person who was always a joy to be around – honestly? That’s not the
case.
Jack
preached a few weeks ago about the passage in Mark 7 where Jesus calls a woman
who asks a question a dog – only, the real Greek word is much worse than dog.
Presumably, the disciples were around when he acted that way. And then again in
Mark 8 the disciples are confused and Jesus says to them, “Why are you still
talking about this? Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts
hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to
hear? And do you not remember?” In short, “What are you? A bunch of idiots?”
And
then in Mark 9, a man in a crowd asked Jesus to perform an exorcism and he responded
with this sweet reply, “You faithless generation, how much longer must I be
among you? How much longer must I put up with you. Bring him to me.”
So,
yeah. I can see why the disciples might be scared of asking Jesus a question.
He doesn’t really have a track record of responding with patience and an open
heart when asked questions.
Who
acts like this? Who sits around, obsessing about whether they’re good enough?
People who have been treated poorly. People who have seen their teachers, their
parents, their friends, their partners or spouses react explosively when asked
questions. People who have been made to worry about their worth as human
beings. In short, all of us, in varying degrees.
Alyce
McKenzie says that the disciples in this passage were worried about four
things:[1]
1)
fear that they have fallen in Jesus' estimation
2)
insecurity at their failure to heal the boy in
chapter 9
3)
resentment toward one another as Jesus chastises
them
4)
eagerness to compete to regain his approval
Together,
those four worries spell out FIRE – fear, insecurity, resentment, and eagerness
to regain Jesus’s approval. McKenzie says the disciples were unable to put away
their heated thoughts to really understand what Jesus was trying to tell them.
When
we’re obsessed with our status, with our ranking, with the way other people
perceive us, it really does take a lot of energy away from other, more
important, things.
Jesus
deals with this whole issue by reminding the disciples that if they want to be
big stuff, they need to make themselves small – vulnerable. “Those who want to
be first must be last and servant of all.” Then he picks up a small child and
says, “If you welcome a child, you welcome me. And if you welcome me, you
welcome God.”
I like
how Barbara Brown Taylor puts it:“ If you want to enter this kingdom, there is
a way: go find a nobody to put your arms around and say hello to God.”[2]
Very
young children, in general, are not obsessed with status. And the good Lord
knows they are not afraid to ask questions, am I right? We make them obsessed
with status by harping on them when they’ve done something wrong and
excessively praising them when they do something right. Children who are told
they’re stupid over and over again really start to worry that they might be.
And on the flip side, children who are praised for every tiny thing they do
start to worry that if they don’t get everything just right they might not be
okay.
I was
at Target earlier this week and overheard a conversation between a mom and a
young boy who looked to be about 8. He was asking his mom over and over and
over again for some toy and she was ignoring him. Finally, she looked right at
him and said, “What a stupid question! Why on earth would I buy you anything?
You haven’t done anything to earn that toy!” The boy mumbled something about
having read a book recently. The mom laughed and said, “Oh, big deal. You don’t
get a toy for reading a book. Are you kidding me?”
My
heart broke a little. I wanted to take the woman aside and help her find a way
to speak to her child with more respect. But, of course, I couldn’t figure out
how to do that.[3] I prayed
about it instead. I prayed that that little boy hears kind words sometimes,
too. I prayed that he would have teachers or other trusted adults in his life
who would treat him with dignity and as a child of God. I prayed that he would
grow up and somehow find a way to feel okay about himself. I prayed that he
would realize that his mom is wrong. There are really no stupid questions. It’s
always okay to ask. Sometimes the answer is yes, sometimes it’s no, and those
are all okay answers. But it never hurts to ask.
Before
we are broken by the words of others, we don’t worry so much about stupid
questions. Spend some time with a 2 or 3 year old and you’ll see this right
away. “Why? Why? Why?” All day long they ask questions. And they seem pretty
oblivious to their peers’ accomplishments or failings. They don’t seem to
compare themselves to the other kids around them. If there’s something they
want to do and they can’t do it, they just keep working at it over and over
again until they get it right. The other kids don’t laugh at them because the
other kids aren’t comparing themselves, either. They’re just working on their
own stuff, too.
So how
do we raise our children in a way that helps them feel secure enough to ask
questions? And how do we adults dig in deep to undo the damage that is done to
us on a daily basis because we live in a world obsessed with status?
Well,
for starters, I think we read our kids books like the one I shared during the
children’s story today.[4]
We remind those around us – children and adults – that we will still love them,
even if they do something awful. This doesn’t mean, of course, that there are
no consequences for bad behavior. One of the things I love about that
children’s book is that there are consequences for the things that happen – the
child still has to take a bath, the mom gets the baby back after the sister
gives him away, the mom gets hurt and mad and yells and has to clean up the
vase that is broken. There are consequences, but there is still love.
There
are times, of course, where relationships are broken to the point where we can
no longer offer love. At least not the same kind of love that initially created
a relationship. These are the places and spaces where God’s love steps in. This
is why we must tell our children and remind each other that the best mama of
all, the papa who truly loves us no matter how big we mess up is God. For there
are mess ups in this world of ours that are much, much bigger than breaking a
vase. And there is a God who is much, much kinder and expansive that our human
parents and partners. Thanks be to God for that reality.
Another
thing is this: we have to stop thinking about ourselves so darn much. Jesus,
for all of his crankiness in the preceding chapters, is so dead on right when
he tells the disciples they need to start welcoming children. They need – we
need – to stop thinking about ourselves. We need to welcome the least, the
yuckiest, the nobodies, the people who can’t do a darn thing for us. We need to
pick them up and hold them tight. When we do that, we cease to obsess over our
own place in the world and we turn outward, finding God in our midst in places
we hadn’t imagined possible.
And
here’s the final bit: I think we have to take risks on a daily basis. We have
to put ourselves in environments where we are loved pretty close to
unconditionally and then we have to put ourselves out there and risk failure.
We have to surround ourselves with teachers who truly believe there are no
stupid questions. And I have some good news for all of you on this front: I
have been a part of First United Church for seven years now and I can tell you
from experience that this is such a place. I have heard from people over and
over again that they feel safe to ask questions here. I have never seen anyone
shamed or dismissed for asking a question in this place. Soak it up, folks,
because it is a blessing to be in a community like this one.
As we
sit in the time of silent meditation after the sermon today, I want to invite
you to take a risk and ask a question. You have a slip of scrap paper in your
bulletin. If you’d like, I invite you to write a question on there. What would
you ask Jesus if you had the chance? Dig deep. Ask something you’re scared to
say out loud. If you’re feeling really brave you can even put your name on it,
but you certainly don’t have to. During the closing hymn, I invite you to bring
the questions up front here and leave them. God won’t laugh at them, I promise.
After
the service, if you wrote a question, you may come up and take away someone
else’s question. If there’s no name on it, you can pray about it. Pray for them
to find the way to ask it out loud in a space where someone can help them
discover the answer. If there is a name on it, you can pray, but you can also
feel free to contact the person and be in dialogue about their question.
This is a place where there are no stupid questions. This is a place where the rankings of the world shouldn’t matter. This is a place where we strive to welcome the least, and even as we fail on a daily basis, we rest assured that we worship a God who looks forward to us trying again tomorrow.
[1] http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?lect_date=9/20/2009&tab=4
[2] Barbara
Brown Taylor, “Last of All” in Bread of
Angels.
[3] After I
preached this sermon, I was blessed to be in dialogue with a woman who heard it
and had some feedback to share. She reminded me that it’s so important to
remember that when we see a parent have a moment like this with a child, we
have no idea what the rest of the day has been like or a whole host of other
thigns about that child or that relations. As a mother myself, I know that we
all speak in ways we regret sometimes. At least I know I do. I need the grace
of God and the community around me to support me as a mother and help me find
ways to be more gentle with my child, just like this mother does. So today I
lift up that mother in prayer. I was so brokenhearted for her child that I
forgot to pray for the mom. I pray for her healing of past wounds, lots and
lots of patience, and that she has a community to love and support her so she
can find the strength to love her children – no matter what comes – to the very
best of her ability. Because we all love our children and we all need support
to do this difficult work of parenting.
[4] “Even if I
Did Something Awful” by Barbara Shook Hazen.
