September 22, 2024
Rev. Mary Erickson
Hope Lutheran Church
Mark 9:30-37
Greatness
Friends, may grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus our Lord.
Soon it will be October. That means one thing: baseball playoffs! As the weeks of October progress, the field of victors narrows down until it’s time for the World Series. The best team from the National League goes head to head against the best team from the American League. The series will determine the year’s WORLD BASEBALL CHAMPIONS!
Our own Milwaukee Brewers have clinched their seat to the playoffs. It will be exciting to watch them.
Who is the greatest? There’s something in the human spirit that is inherently competitive. Maybe it stems from our Darwinian roots, where the strongest and most capable survived. Since ancient times, we’ve held contests and games.
Whenever I think of the greatest, my mind always roams to Muhammad Ali. Before a match, Ali would boast about how great he was. It was a way to psych out his opponent. “I am the greatest!” he would shout.
Ali also made humorous statements about his greatness. With a twinkle in his eye he would say, “It’s hard to be humble when you’re as great as I am,” When asked if he had any faults, Ali answered, “My only fault is that I don’t realize how really great I am.”
Jesus’ disciples had a debate going among themselves. Which one of them was the greatest? The conversation took place while they were journeying along. When they get to where they’re going, Jesus coyly asks them. “Say, you seemed to be engrossed in conversation as we were coming here. What were you all talking about?”
Well, there must have been a lot of foot shuffling and head hanging. Nobody wanted to fess up. They were a pretty embarrassed lot! Finally, the truth came out. “Well, you see, we were discussing which of us is … is the greatest.”
How embarrassing! Like getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar! Something tells them that discussions about greatness don’t jive with the mission Jesus is establishing.
He had tried to tell them along the way. He told them quite plainly about his own fate. “I’m going to be betrayed and killed,” he said, “And then, three days later, I will be raised from the dead.” Mark tells us the disciples just didn’t understand this. And they were afraid to ask Jesus about it.
Afraid. Why were they afraid to ask? Maybe they just didn’t want to know! If they ask, he might tell them what they feared the most. This remarkable ride they’re on is going to come to a terrible end. The disciples don’t want to know what Jesus means. They’re afraid his answer will confirm their worst fears. They would much rather talk about greatness.
When Jesus finds out what they’ve been discussing, you’d think maybe he’d excuse himself and start banging his head against a wall. Or maybe he’d blow his cork and reprimand them. But Jesus uses it as a teaching moment. “Whoever wants to be Number One needs to be last of all and servant of all.”
And then, to really make his point, Jesus picks up a little child who is in the house. He holds the little child in his arms. The Greek says he hugs the child. “If you welcome a little child in my name, you welcome me.”
Wow. In those days children were on one of THE lowest rungs of the totem pole. It was a different era. Children don’t contribute to society. They’re vulnerable; they lack wisdom and ability. They need constant protection and supervision. They’re dependent on others.
The Roman Catholic theologian Thomas Aquinas lived in the 1200’s. He taught about what a man should do if his house was engulfed in fire. The first person he should save is his father. After his father, he should save his mother. Next, he should save his wife. Only then should he save his children.
That order seems very odd to us. I think we would look first to the youngest and most vulnerable. We would first assist those who couldn’t flee the flames without help. But that’s a modern construct. In Aquinas’ time and in Jesus’ time, priorities were very different. Children came last.
Jesus instructed his disciples to welcome and embrace the lowliest and most insignificant. The logic of God’s kingdom is contrary to our earthly wisdom. We strive after greatness.
A journalist once asked Leonard Bernstein what he thought was the most difficult instrument to play. Bernstein responded “The second fiddle. I can get plenty of first violins, but to find someone who can play the second fiddle with enthusiasm – that's a problem; and if we have no second fiddle, we have no harmony.”
Greatness. Nobody wants to come in second. We want to be the best. Jesus held a small child in his lap. Instead of greatness, he said we must become like this child. That child challenges our notions of greatness. How do we begin to measure ourselves if greatness doesn’t matter?
So, who exactly is the greatest? To people like you and me, people of faith, Jesus is undoubtedly the greatest person who ever lived.
But look at his life! He was born in a stable. He was raised by common, working-class parents in a backwater town. As he began his ministry, he surrounded himself by fishermen, tax collectors and other nobodies. And although he made a bright and glorious flash, in the end, his flame was effectively extinguished. He was abandoned by his friends and condemned to die on the outskirts of town. By all typical marks of greatness, Jesus was a failure.
But then Easter changed everything. Easter has demonstrated a greatness beyond our dreams. By becoming the least of all and servant of all, Christ has conquered death. As his arms stretched out on the cross, he embraced all. He has taken us all in. Jesus comes to us in our own lowliness. We who stood outside of grace have been welcomed home.
Theologian Henri Nouwen summed up Jesus’ understanding of greatness. He wrote: “For Jesus, there are no countries to be conquered, no ideologies to be imposed, no people to be dominated. There are only children, women and men to be loved.”
There is great freedom in that. When we ground ourselves in this identity, as children of God, we become like children. We dwell in their innocence, in their simple trust that they are beloved, that there is a welcoming place for them. Gone is the need to constantly strive! We stop trying to grasp for the next highest rung on the ladder. And we’re free, free to live in joy. There is no judgement. We delight in one another as fellow children of God. Jesus invites us to this same mystifying logic: whoever would be first must be last of all and servant of all.
A story from the Special Olympics describes so poignantly this Kingdom Greatness. There was a foot race in a Special Olympics competition. Nine contestants were running in the hundred-yard dash. The gun fired and all nine athletes took off. But shortly after starting, one little boy tripped and fell. He scraped his knee and started to cry.
At the sound of his cries, the other eight Special Olympians turned around to see what had happened. There they saw the crying boy on the ground. As one, they all turned around and went back to the boy. They picked him up, and then something really amazing happened.
All nine runners linked arms and together they walked to the finish line. The crowd in the stands witnessed this sight and got to their feet. They cheered and applauded with gusto.
By the measure of the world, these nine athletes weren’t very remarkable. They didn’t set any world record for speed and they never would. But these nine very special people had borne witness to true greatness.
Whoever would be first must be last of all and servant of all.
