Hearing Problems

This was a very difficult sermon to prepare because this passage doesn’t really apply to you, at least not the way most preachers spin it.

I can just hear the disciples arguing over who’s the greatest, can’t you? like a bunch of little boys bragging in the playground at recess, or kids squabbling in the back seat of a car. “Jesus called me first!” “Jesus trusts me with the group’s money!” “Big deal, he likes me best - I always go with him on special trips!” “That just means you need more help- you’re always getting bawled out!” “Jesus never scolds me - I always listen!” “Is that so? Well, I healed more people than you did last trip!” “Well, if we’re keeping score...” and so on, and so on.

And, of course, Jesus knew them pretty well, or maybe he overheard them, because when they get to Capernaum he asks them what they were discussing on the way. Ouch! They can’t lie to him, they know that, he always sees right through them, and they don’t really want to anyway. And they know they’re not supposed to behave that way, he’s told them often enough. So they just don’t know what to say, probably shuffling their feet and looking embarrassed and wishing they were anywhere else.

And this all sounds really familiar, doesn’t it?

You all know what it looks like, all of you who have kids, or had kids, or taught kids, or were kids. Anybody here I haven’t covered? Anybody here not know what I’m talking about? Anybody here wondering why, if this is so universal a condition, I started out by saying it doesn’t apply to you?

I already knew, before I came here, that you all have a good reputation, a reputation for being warm, and supportive, and welcoming. I have seen that to be true. I rarely hear anyone say anything critical of another person, even if it might be helpful in giving me background to some situation. Even more amazing than that, though, I haven’t seen any signs of territorial jealousy here. And I’m not alone in noticing that. When Julie was here this spring for the Stewardship luncheon, she told me that one of the most unusual things about this congregation is that people don’t fight to defend their turf. I don’t even think that people here think of what they do for the church as “their” turf at all. Do you know what I mean by that? Does anyone here think that Beth would be offended if you offered to take over planning a covered dish supper or two, or wanted to share the responsibility for preparing treats for fellowship hour? Would Nancy take off in a snit complaining that no one appreciates her if someone else wanted to play piano for Sunday School? Would Jerry get his feelings hurt if you asked to take a turn helping Bill count the offering? Would Bill mind if you offered to help with the treasurer’s job - or even serve a term? Would the church secretary get upset if you wanted to help out in the office a couple of hours every week?

You’re not paying attention. There IS no church secretary.

My point is that I don’t think arguing over who is the greatest is a problem here in this congregation. So while I could easily preach a sermon on the emptiness of pursuing earthly power, or the impropriety of arguing over status in the family of God, with it wouldn’t mean much to you. You’d all nod, and one or two would say “Good sermon, Pastor,” and you’d all go home being and doing pretty much exactly what you were being and doing the day before. Which is, by and large, being warm, honest, responsible, generous men and women. I’m proud of you for that. I’m very glad to be here, very honored to be your pastor. Now, I don’t want you getting the idea you’re perfect, mind you - but you are pretty terrific.

But what do I preach about?

Shall I preach about the next part of the verse?

"[Jesus] took a child, and put him in the midst of them; and taking him in his arms, he said to them, 'Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me; and whoever receives me, receives not me but him who sent me.'” [v. 36-37]

Back in Jesus’ day, children were of absolutely no importance. In fact, the same word in Aramaic, the language Jesus spoke, means both child and servant. The only reason we know that it was a child Jesus was talking about, and not a servant, is that Jesus took him into his arms. Although I suppose you could make a case for the shock value of making such a gesture toward a servant, it’s really pretty unlikely, especially when you consider that Jesus had the habit of using children as an object lesson in other, similar passages. And besides, since they were in Capernaum, the disciples were probably at Peter’s house, and we haven’t any reason to think that Peter’s home life included servants.