26 Pentecost (Year B)
Mark 13:1-8
St. John’s, West Seneca
November 17, 2024
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
We have come to the last weeks of the church year, and now we find ourselves immersed in the “end times” texts, those readings that speak of the persecutions to come.
Today’s gospel reading has images of destruction, such as the destruction of the temple and the inevitability of wars, earthquakes, and famine; the destruction of the temple. And at first glance, there seems to be little good news to celebrate. But it is there. The good news is the “beginning of the birth pangs.” This is good news, birth pangs – for a woman - means the arrival of a child. And for us, birth pangs, in this case, is the promise of new life and new beginnings.
Jesus begins today’s text: “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”
By all accounts of the day, that temple was an awe-inspiring piece of architecture. At the time of Jesus, it had been under construction for almost 50 years and was nearing completion. Josephus, the Jewish historian, noted, "The exterior of the building wanted nothing that could astound either mind or eye. For, being covered on all sides with massive plates of gold, the sun was no sooner up than it radiated so fiery a flash that persons straining to look at it were compelled to avert their eyes, as from the solar rays. To approaching strangers it appeared from a distance like a snow-clad mountain; for all that was not overlaid with gold was of purest white."
It is said that the largest stones were 40 feet long, 12 feet high, 18 feet wide and bright white in their appearance. This was more than a temple in which to worship God; it was an incredible accomplishment of man.
And yet, Jesus made a startling claim, that there would come a day when even this amazing work of King Herod's hands, and all it represented, would come tumbling down. Toppled, not by earthquakes or armies but ultimately by God, who is immutable and everlasting. That is why we must remember that one definition of the church is “the gathered ones,” not a building. That is why we do not hook our wagons only to what is tangible. Our faith, our peace, the work of our hands, our efforts and treasures should not be focused only on what we can build. Those things all too often crumble, and we do not want our hope to go with it.
Jesus is cautioning us, reminding us that we are not to let our pride get the best of us, no matter how large the stones or the buildings. We have work to do, you and I. It is in our nature to be proud, but pride goes before the fall. The question comes down to doing what is right, without letting our accomplishments become all about us.
The question: how can we not be amazed at what we can do? Most of us have seen great buildings, whether a skyscraper or a cathedral. Moreover, we do have to work. We need to design and build, earn a living, sow and reap, put a roof over our heads, build roads, schools, hospitals and so on. Humans seem to have an innate desire to improve on what we have, and to aspire to greatness, create, design and develop, to always make things better.
Yes, we need to work; Jesus is not saying that we should not, nor does God deny our efforts. We are – after all – created in the image of God. And God is the master craftsman. We follow His example, but work is to glorify God, not ourselves.
As we come to the end of Mark, Jesus knows that His end is near. The time belongs to his disciples…and us. As we come to the end of the church year, we too need to consider what Jesus is telling us so that we may have that peace that He promises. If we are to walk with Him, we need to walk the whole way to the cross, and learn from it.
So the warning to “beware,” in Mark, comes down to focus, and focus on what is truly important and life-giving. It all comes down to the difference between “doing” and “being.” And Jesus knew very well that there is a difference between those who were great at doing, but not so great at being.
We are doers by nature, keeping busy, always thinking. In all of our doing, we tend to become enamored of our own efforts and forget God. When we put our trust in the work of our hands, we set ourselves up for trouble. There is no doubt that we are a blessed and gifted people. But if, in the end, rather than simply enjoying the work of our hands and the "blessings" in our lives, we make such things the center of our lives, then we are in danger. When we become distracted – forgetting God and placing our hope in temporary things – then we risk it all.
We all know of those who take great pride in how busy they are, in how many hours they put in, in the number of meetings attended. In doing that, we lose our focus, and that leaves us vulnerable, not just because we are ignoring God and the commandment to put God first, but also because when we are vulnerable, other voices can sound like a better deal. Other voices can offer excuses and rationalizations that seem right, and before we know it, we are led astray.
Matthew’s gospel echoes the same thing: "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
We are always to keep God at the center of our life. Jesus's point is this: How you handle your life, your job, your possessions, your time, depends on where you believe your hope to be. Where are you placing the stones of your life? How strong is your foundation?
This is not a light nor easy gospel lesson. It comes down to who we are each and every day, and looking in the mirror is rarely easy.
I was reminded this past week of St. Julian of Norwich, whose words you may know. “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”
Julian was born in the mid-14th century. It is thought that she lived through two bouts of the bubonic plague, and saw the death of many of her family and friends. In her encounters with the divine, she saw the very love of God, that all-encompassing love that never lets us go.
“If there be anywhere on earth a lover of God who is always kept safe from falling, I know nothing of it -- for it was not shown me. But this was shown -- that in falling and rising again we are always kept in the same precious love.”
That is what Jesus means by being. Rather than seeing this text as doom and gloom, or fearful, we are to hear the good news and celebrate it: God is working in the world with his love; his kingdom is moving forward, even if we find less than ideal circumstances.
Buildings do fall; there are natural disasters of all kinds and always have been; wars, rumors of wars. There are those who try to lead us astray. But God is above all that. In Julian’s time, there was great despair, with about one-third of Europe was wiped out. Those were terrible times. But in the years after, came the Renaissance, fittingly, a new birth.
Jesus reminds us to keep our foundation strong and not be led astray. And when we do this, it will be as Julian writes: “And all shall be well. And all shall be well. And all manner of things shall be exceeding well.” Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
25 Pentecost (Year B)
Mark 12: 38-44
St. John’s, West Seneca
November 10, 2024
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
Before us today are two different types of characters. First we have the description of the scribes that is humorous, but sad. These grown men seem to enjoy playing dress-up in their finest religious garb, and then they strut about the marketplace, waiting, of course, for all to see and greet them in the appropriate manner. And in accordance with such fine attire, they pray very long prayers, so that all may witness their piety. Most bought into the fact in society believed these scribes to be people of importance. It is an unflattering view of these men.
But that is not the worst of it. Not only do they dress and appear pious, their motives are suspect. Jesus accuses them of devouring the “houses” of widows. In his time, the most vulnerable people were widows. Widows had no rights. Their care fell to their children, if they had grown children.
This widow receives little description of her attire, but her motives are visible for Jesus – and us – to see. As Jesus sits down opposite the temple treasury and watches people offer money, there she is. Her giving is noteworthy, but more importantly, her gift serves as a counterpoint to the behavior of the scribes. On the other hand, Jesus points out how this poor widow has given “all she had” to the temple.
Did you know that Jesus uses the word “beware” only twice in Mark? And each time Jesus is as solemn, somber, and severe as we ever see him. So, “Just who are the scribes?”
In our common language, they were the lawyers; those men charged with interpreting the law, which by the time of Jesus had become so massive that a new occupation had not only been formed, but was flourishing.
Jesus notes that these scribes enjoyed their status: the robes, the invitations, the long prayers that were no doubt expected of them. By the way, about those robes. Those robes set them apart, making them highly visible. A long robe that swept the ground was the sign of a notable person. With such a garment as this long sweeping thing, you were not able to hurry about, and it had become a sign of leisure. Just ask any pastor about the problems with these robes, and you will hear the stories, like getting your heels caught in the hem, or billowy sleeves caught on anything.
“Beware of the scribes,” says Jesus.
Jesus certainly had a problem with them. They seem to care little about the truth of God, or the welfare of poorer members of society, and Jesus condemns them for saying long prayers for the sake of appearance, and devouring “widows’ houses”. No one is exactly sure what it meant to “devour widows’ houses,” but it has been speculated that these scribes entered into a kind of parasitic relationship with the rich widows of Jerusalem, offering guardianship or companionship in exchange for a life of wealth and power.
In any case, Jesus denounces such selfish relationships. He condemns the scribes for turning away from their role as experts in religious law, and putting their time and energy into acquiring social power and influence.
And then the scene shifts dramatically. We are told that rich people were dropping in large sums of money. A poor widow comes in and deposits two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. Jesus senses a teaching moment, so he calls his disciples and says to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury.”
The disciples probably nodded their heads in agreement with their rabbi, but somehow, I’d be willing to bey that they don’t get it. How can two copper coins equal the gold coins that the rich are dropping?
Jesus continues by saying that all of the rich “contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”
What matters is not the size of your gift, according to Jesus — it’s the seriousness of your commitment.
And so, as always, Jesus turns the world upside down. “Beware of the scribes,” and instead, look to the widow at the temple treasury, an ordinary woman with extraordinary commitment, when you want to see an example of giving your life to God.
Have you noticed that often it is those who are poor who are also the most generous? And not just on an individual level either. Many is the time at Synod Assembly when I see the smaller churches tithing to the synod, while the big, growing, wealthy churches do not.
Jesus calls a spade a spade. Jesus has tough words for those whose giving is not in line with what they have been given. Jesus has harsh words:
“• for those who wear the garments of religion over the tattered spirit;
• for those who can sit down with the rich, but won’t stand up for the poor;
• for those who pray long for themselves, but not for others;
• for those who live off the backs of poor widows;
• for those who have time for their own people, but who step to the other side of the road to avoid the “foreigner.”
Jesus knows exactly who we are. Too many of us who believe that righteousness is what you do with your hands; Jesus knows that righteousness is who you are in your heart. We may think we are like the widow in this story; but we are the scribes.
Jesus is making sure that we hear the truth, especially about those less fortunate. You see, Widows and orphans were among the poorest of the poor in a society where the majority were poor. In fact, to say a widow was poor is redundant. Not that this is news to us — we know that many in our population face poverty today. Certain southern states are poor, and because of that, their life expectancy is about 10-15 years below ours living in New York. With poverty, there is a host of other issues.
For Jesus, giving is very simply a matter of the heart. How do we give? How do we live? It’s not just with our money, but with our time, our talents, our very being. If the church is going to be the church, we have to look at how our lifestyle meshes with our faith. This means thinking seriously about whether the clothes we wear come from sweat shops, or whether the coffee we enjoy comes at the expense of the farmer who grows the beans. Are people getting a fair chance?
And while I say “thank you” often for your generosity, there is more to what Jesus is saying. Jesus knows that if we are not reminded often that we will fall behind. That is why the story of this widow and her small coins is so relevant. The poor widow gave the least of coins — equivalent to our pennies — but gave the most relative to her income. Her two coppers came out of her poverty, not her wealth; out of her want, not out of her affluence. Perhaps she gave so much because she knew what it’s like not to have enough. Perhaps past experience increased her faith that God provides.
Over the years, I have heard so many tell their stories after a visit to a third world country, where even out of poverty, the guest is given the very best that there is, where generosity is the rule of the day, not the exception. These people have nothing, yet they share that nothing as though it were gold.
It is where your heart is. The widow gave what she had because she was grateful to God for the little she had. And if you’ve ever been on the down side of life, you know what it means to be grateful for the blessings that just keep coming. Let’s commit ourselves to living out the faith of the widow, who worries none about robes and long prayers, only about giving. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
All Saints Sunday (Year B)
St. John’s, West Seneca
November 3, 2024
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
We confess it every week in the Creed: I believe in the “communion of saints.” And yet, how many of us ever really think what that is?
I came across an article in my favorite journal: Homiletics, and I believe it’s the best definition I have seen in years.
The article began by talking silent partners, those people who are behind others who are promoting a new idea or invention, a new corporation. As you know, this is a financial arrangement, venture capital is start-up money for those that show promise.
We have silent partners as well, but this is something else altogether. These partners are mentioned in Revelation 7:9: “After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white …”
Revelation speaks of the great multitude; Hebrews speaks of a “great cloud of witnesses.” These are “the communion of saints.” They stand behind us, now in this time, lending support in ways that we are only slightly aware of.
Not every tradition — particularly Protestantism — is comfortable with the label, “saint.” Martin Luther, as well as other reformers who came after him, were suspicious of the Roman Catholic sainthood system, which canonizes the most famous Christians in history, then they become conduits of prayer. Martin Luther believed that saints -- while important – were not to be prayed to, as we go directly to Jesus.
As the article read: “…that’s not what the communion of saints is all about. “Saint” literally means “holy one.” These holy ones — these silent partners who enjoy a new and perfected life in heaven — collectively lend their support to the church’s efforts to be faithful here on earth. (In truth, the New Testament never speaks of an individual saint. The word occurs only in the plural.) The communion of saints doesn’t scrounge up venture capital, of course, but their constant prayer on our behalf is worth far more.”
As long as there is a communion of saints — and the promise of Revelation is that their heavenly witness is eternal — we will never lack spiritual support. They are our silent partners.
The good news is that we are never alone. They are with us, providing a type of “venture capital” because they believe we are of infinite worth and each one of us shows promise.
On this side of the communion of saints, it can be tricky. In our daily lives, with whatever comes our way, we may be assured of their presence. As we all know, sometimes things go well; we sense the Holy Spirit at work in our world, and realize we’re surrounded by God’s love, constant as the air we breathe. We know, in blessed moments like these, that our faith is real; that it works; that we are on the right path.
Of course, there are other times when we feel discouraged and disheartened. In times like this, life seems to be that famous “one step forward, two steps back.” There are times when we find ourselves nodding in agreement when the Psalmist laments that the wicked “have no pain; their bodies are sound and sleek … always at ease, they increase in riches.” (Psalm 73)
Yet, in every season — in good times or in bad — we can take comfort in this reassuring fact that we are never alone. For surrounding us on every side are our silent partners, the communion of saints.
So, who are these saints? Ordinary people, like us, and of course, those who led truly exemplary lives. There are plenty of books about their lives based on tradition. Getting beyond that, what we find is that the saints are not super-Christians. Some are famous, others have been lost. But all, as Paul writes, they are those who have “fought the good fight, finished the race, kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).
And should we take the time to look beyond the halos and pious expressions, you will find very human men and women. As Blaise Pascal points out, “saints are merely people who have intimate knowledge of grace because they need it so much.” He writes: “To make a person a saint, grace is certainly needed, and anyone who doubts this does not know what a saint, or a human being, really is.”1
Saints are people like Abraham, who didn’t become saintly until very late in life. Scripture tells us almost nothing about this patriarch’s life before age 75.
There are saints like Teresa of Avila, who had a sense of the earthy as well as the sublime. “They say Teresa was once out walking with a group of her fellow nuns, when it started pouring rain. Then, the bridge they were crossing collapsed, casting the entire company into the muddy waters. Teresa looked to the heavens and exclaimed, “God, if this is how you treat your friends, I’d hate to be your enemy!” You can almost imagine her shaking her fist at the heavens. (And can’t you imagine yourself saying something very similar?)”
God is always looking for saints, and it is not only perfect people who are going to be found. Of course, there may be some who are born with the natural ability to love the Lord completely with heart, soul, mind and strength, 24/7 -- but for most of us, this passion comes only after we discover that God has always loved us, and that his love precedes our own.
And all God asks is that we respond with that same level of passion ... loving him with all our heart, soul, mind and strength ... and showing a willingness to love our neighbors as ourselves. God asks that we care for our neighbor, that we be good stewards of the creation, that we preach the good news, that we do whatever we are able to do. We may never be the scholar like St. Thomas Aquinas; but we can teach our children about Jesus. We may never be able to give all of our riches away, as St. Francis of Assisi did, but we can make an effort at giving. It is all about putting God first.
That’s what the saints do. The true mark of a saint can be found in the simple act of living and then taking action, no excuses. The mark of a saint is that we just keep going. There is a story Gracie Allen, who was the wife and comic partner of comedian George Burns, and a brilliant and perceptive woman. She left a message in her papers to be discovered by her husband after her death, a sentence that has become the motto for the United Church of Christ: “Never put a period where God has placed a comma.”
Gracie was encouraging George to remember that life had many chapters. George was 68 when Gracie died. Rather than place a period after his career, Burns went on to star in a number of movies, winning an Oscar for THE SUNSHINE BOYS, even including playing God. He died at age 100, having lived the life of the comma.
There’s a lot of truth in what Gracie said because it reminds us that God is always leading us into a new future. Don’t put a period where God has placed a comma — saints take this seriously as they look for new revelations every day. People who are saints in this life assume that God is always ahead of them, not stuck behind them, and they are constantly seeking to learn what God is revealing to them.
Saints are people in action. Those who study the lives of the saints marvel at how strong and enduring their faith was, how they could count on it to bear them up through all sorts of desperate situations. What not so many realize is that giants of the faith are not born with such devotion. They develop it over time.
Saints are ordinary people, who struggle with their faith like anyone else. And…the communion of saints is the community of the forgiven, not the unnaturally saintly. And that is why, each week, we state boldly our belief in this communion of saints, our silent partners. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
Material comes from “Silent Partners”
Revelation 7:9-17
Sunday, May 8, 2022
—Carl Wilton contributed to this material
Reformation (Year B)
St. John’s, West Seneca
October 26, 2024
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
Celebrations. Some are joyous and fun-filled, some are simply observances.
We celebrate birthdays, wedding anniversaries. Some couples will celebrate the anniversary of a first date. Pastors celebrate ordination anniversaries, as others celebrate work anniversaries or retirement.
And we celebrate notable events or discoveries in history.
We celebrate the birthdays of people who made a difference in the world, like presidents Washington and Lincoln, and civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr.
And, each year, we celebrate the man for whom MLK Jr. was named, Martin Luther.
It wasn't a civil rights movement, but rather a reformation. What Martin Luther did October 31, 1517, 507 years ago, sparked a protest and reform that came to be known as the Protestant Reformation.
What did Luther do? In the simplest terms, he posted a sign on a church door.
The great theologian H. Richard Niebuhr stated: "The great Christian revolutions come not by the discovery of something that was not known before. They happen when somebody takes radically something that was always there.”
If Neibuhr is correct, they were not necessarily revolutionary documents. No throwing out the baby with the bathwater. They were 95 theses, 95 statements that were to be discussed by the leading clergy of the day. In many ways, it was an invitation.
Martin Luther, a thirty-four year old professor of theology, and an Augustinian monk, nailed those documents to the door of the Wittenburg Castle Church on October 31, 1517, All Hallow’s Eve. The word “nailed” is even a bit dramatic, but it has long been invested in our tradition, and it’s a powerful symbol. Posted is probably a better word; that was the way in the 16th century to request a public debate, the way we post an announcement on Facebook. But whether nailed with violent strokes, or posted, once copies of these theses – these points for debate - were printed up and circulated, a controversy that might have remained local took off and made Luther a bona fide celebrity.
Now, discussion and debate had always been a part of the church, from the beginning. By the time of Luther, the church had become corrupt. Nepotism flourished, as relatives were awarded the highest offices in Christendom. Relics were a source of scandal, as all new churches and religious houses were required to have a relic in them, causing a black market when the demand outstripped supply.
But it was the sale of indulgences that really set Martin Luther off. The sale of these indulgences was to fund the building of St. Peter’s, which had been begun by the previous pope. And it was a scandal. An indulgence was simply a payment to the church to pay off future sins. Like so many things, originally, it was an act of faith, but had become a scandal. A German Dominican named Johan Tetzel led a team of indulgence preachers. His sale pitch was good too.
“Won’t you part with even a farthing to buy this letter? It won’t bring you money but rather a divine and immortal soul, whole and secure in the Kingdom of Heaven…”
And then, if that wasn’t enough: “Listen to the cries of your parents and the pleading of the lost, Have mercy, ease our anguish a little and yet you do nothing. Open your ears. A father cries out to his son, a mother to her daughter: ‘Why is the Lord tormenting me?’”
Luther – reading and re-reading his Bible – came to realize that righteousness does not depend on works, but on faith alone. Remember Niebuhr’s words: the great Christian revolutions come not by the discovery of something that was not known before. They happen when somebody takes radically something that was always there.” Luther noticed something that had always been there, Romans 3: “For we hold that a person is justified by faith apart from works prescribed by the law.”
And so, with the advent of printing, along with the protection of Frederick the Wise of Saxony, the Reformation began. Luther brought the Mass into the language of the people, stressed faith and the ever-present grace of God, encouraged teaching in homes with the use of his catechism. He preached a “priesthood of all believers,” defined vocation – whatever you did for a living – as a holy calling from God, stressed two of the sacraments, instead of the seven that exist in the Catholic church, denounced the supremacy of the Pope, and spoke of the theology of the cross, wherein God works paradoxically. Luther launched a movement, which, by the way, he did not intend. Martin Luther wanted a debate to rid the church of its rampant corruption; instead, what he got was the Reformation.
Eventually, in April of 1521, Martin Luther was put on trial by the Roman Catholic Church for his criticism of the pope, for his questioning the validity of some of the sacraments and for denouncing church corruption.
At this trial, Luther was convicted of heresy. Anyone caught following him was to be condemned. But Luther and his followers were not crushed — they went on to lead the Protestant Reformation, the movement we commemorate today. We can be grateful that Luther took a stand for what he believed in and worked tirelessly to bring the word of God to common people, so that they could develop deeper faith in Jesus Christ.
Faith was the key to Luther. In his own study and translation of the Bible, he discovered that faith is essential to an everlasting relationship with God. “We are saved by the grace of God, through faith in Jesus Christ,” Luther said. Faith is the attitude that gives us the strength to hang on to Christ, according to Luther; it is the way we gain access to the saving grace of God. Faith is best defined as “trust,” he said; it is a willingness to rely on Jesus through all the challenges of life.
And true faith is active, always moving, questioning, praying, rejoicing. I’ve often said that to have blind faith is to have no faith at all. And on those days when your faith seems a bit low, a bit off, a bit wary, or brought low by current events, trust in God’s grace to lift you up and fill in the blanks. Faith is not easy.
The hardest thing about faith is that it is not programmable. The Greeks had two words for time: chronos and kairos. Chronos is what we like. We claim our words “chronology” and “chronicle” from that root. Chronos time is when "time turns round itself in an obedient circle" (W.H. Auden). Then there is kairos time or sacred time, when time takes turns and spirals that are unpredictable and even unfathomable. When will the harvest be ready? When it is. When will a woman give birth? When it’s time. Oh, we know that the wheat harvest usually happens in late July, and that pregnant women have due dates. But the exact hour and minute? That is kairos. Kairos time is what some have called "God-moments.”
Faith is what you do between this run-in with God and the next one. It sounds easy, except that you have no idea when “this next one” will occur. Everything comes in God’s time, and until then, well, you keep the faith.
Faith is what you do between those moments with God. It is much harder than simply doing good works. But if you let go and let God, then miraculous things happen. Let God be at work in you; let God take your heart prisoner.
Rick Steves, the travel author and Lutheran, said this: “I’m a Lutheran because it fits my personality—pack light; keep it simple; embrace life; celebrate diversity; jettison needless rules; stand up to authority when the truth needs a hand; and dance through the blessing of life on Earth like a child in God’s eyes.”
And that is what Luther began; a tradition that allows you to travel light; not as many rules to hold you down. Our tradition gives you strength to speak up when necessary, and with God’s abundant grace, we are free to live and dance through this life that God wants us to enjoy. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
22 Pentecost (Year B)
Mark 10:35-45
St. John’s, West Seneca
October 20, 2024
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
If you were to run a Google search for people who are “the greatest,” you will find a long, long list of names: Ramses the Great, Alexander the Great, Alfred the Great, and so on. It’s exhausting to read and consider just how many have been considered “the Great.”
Then there are events and eras with the same adjective: The Great Depression, The Great Migration, The Great Terror.
History teaches us that for people, greatness is often linked with power, which causes the greatest – and their followers - to believe that they are invincible; that they are powerful, even righteous. And great they may have been, in certain aspects of their lives, but as the historian Jon Meacham says of Thomas Jefferson: “He was a man of great virtues, and a man of great vices.” Just like everyone of else, including us.
Today, we see two who want to be great, or if not great, then at least recognized; James and John. The nickname given by Jesus to James and John, the sons of Zebedee, is Sons of Thunder. Not “the great,” but definitely on the right track. James and John are two of the first disciples called by Jesus, a couple of guys in his inner circle.
So they walk up to Jesus and say, "Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you."
That’s a bold request. And while we may shake our heads at such arrogance, the request they make is really not surprising, considering who they are with, what they have seen and heard and done. When you believe that you are traveling with the greatest, you may want a better rank as well.
So James and John say to Jesus, "Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory." They want a position secured in the future, close to Jesus. After all, they are part of Jesus’s inner circle.
But there are a couple of problems with being great. First, there is the illusion that you are more than you really are. And then, in this case, there is the confusion – soon to be handed to them - that you may not know the true meaning of greatness.
Jesus addresses this today. "You do not know what you are asking," says Jesus to the aspiring great ones, James and John. "Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?" Jesus knows that they really do not understand what they are getting into, and he makes clear that the path to glory goes comes with suffering.
Are you truly able to drink the cup that I drink, asks Jesus -- the cup of my blood, shed on the cross for the forgiveness of sin? Are you able to be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with -- the baptism of death and resurrection, where suffering and death will come before joy and new life?
John and James confidently reply, "We are able." But are they as confident as they seem? Do they really understand what path lies ahead of them?
Jesus does not challenge them on this, but goes on, probably nodding his head in agreement. "The cup that I drink you will drink," he promises; "and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized." He knows that they are walking the way of the cross, which will lead to suffering for all and to death for some. The book of Acts tells us that James was later put to death, on the order of King Herod Agrippa. The first of the apostles to be martyred for the faith, he came to be known as James the Greater.
As for John, he too suffered under the persecution of the Roman Empire, but did not lose his life for the Christian faith. Tradition says that he lived a long time and died of natural causes.
But as for positions of honor, Jesus says: "to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant." Jesus can promise suffering, death and new life to all who follow him in faith, but the granting of special places in the kingdom of heaven? That's God's call, because God is in control.
So, how does this go over with the other ten disciples? They are not happy. Jesus uses this argument as a teaching opportunity, and attempts to clear up any confusion about the true meaning of greatness. He begins by pointing to the way that the leaders of the Gentiles act as tyrants, lording it over their people. "But it is not so among you," he says; "but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all." Once again, Jesus turns everything upside down, in His kingdom, the greatest of disciples is a servant of others.
And since Jesus refuses to preach what he will not himself practice, he reveals that he is the model for this approach: "For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve." Let there be no confusion about who is "the Great," says Jesus. It may or may not be a great leader. Instead, the one who is great is the one who serves.
In this year, with the Olympic games, once again we tally each win. There was much commentary on who is the greatest and it can be easy to lose sight of how we achieve greatness. We're quick to honor winners and even quicker to turn away from those who come in second. But Jesus reminds us that the greatest among us is the one who serves, not necessarily the one who wins the gold.
One of my devotions from this past week spoke about how we always want. Nothing new about that…about what we desire. But in this devotion the pastor mentioned the Tennessee Willams play: A Streetcar named Desire. “A character is told to take the streetcar named Desire, transfer to a streetcar named Cemetery, and arrive at the Field of Alysion—in Greek mythology, the place of the dead.” And he went on to comment how this scene brings to mind the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis 3, where the fruit of the tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was “to be desired.” “Desire has no end. We want more—better, status, prestige, privilege, recognition. When someone asked John D. Rockefeller, who owned approximately 1% of the nation’s wealth, ‘How much is enough?’ His answer, ‘Just a little bit more.’”
The disciples James and John, along with you and me, ask,. “What can we get?” Jesus responds, “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink?” And then he points them to the cross and to the call to become servants.
When it comes to servanthood, I am reminded of Mother Theresa: “We cannot do great things on this Earth, only small things with great love."
That is the truth. Rather than concentrating only on what you can do that is great, try this instead: know who you are: An imperfect human being, who has both virtues and vices. The truth is that not one of us may be the greatest, but we serve a Great God. With Christ's forgiveness, and with the Holy Spirit’s inspiration, we can have an impact -- especially if we serve others with whatever skills and talents we have.
Someone once asked Albert Schweitzer to name the greatest person alive in the world at that moment. The good doctor, whom many would have named as deserving the honor, replied quietly: "The greatest person alive in the world at this moment is some unknown individual in some obscure place who, at this hour, has gone in love to be with another person in need."
Great words from a great man. And the good news for today is that everybody can be great because anybody can serve. It was true for James. True for John. True for any one of us. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
21 Pentecost (Year B)
Mark 10: 17-31
St. John’s, West Seneca
October 13, 2024
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
I want you to be thinking, even as I preach, about the things you own. Clothes, cars, houses, computers, other electronics, books. If you possess it, make a mental list. And let me introduce you to the main character is today’s Gospel reading.
The synoptic gospels – Matthew, Mark, Luke - offer a case study of one who has many possessions.
In Luke 18, he is a “certain ruler,” being referred to as “rich” later.
In Matthew 19, he is “someone,” described as a young man who had many possessions.
Here in Mark, we know only that he’s a man who had “many possessions”. We also know he is pious. He comes to Jesus with one question: “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
So Jesus tells him, renumerating a few of the Ten Commandments. This man is confident that he has kept them and tells Jesus that he has indeed been a good man.
So far, so good, the man is in good standing as he sees it. He has managed – in a difficult world – to live a holy life, while also accumulating a good deal of possessions. To the casual observer, this guy had it all.
And then Jesus spells it out for the rich man: “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me”. His answer is interesting, as there was no law in ancient Judaism saying that one had to sell everything. In fact, in one of the scribal laws, you were allowed to give up to one-fifth of what you own, mainly so that you would not become one of the needy.
The man goes away, grieving. He is shocked. He hadn’t realized that his accumulation of possessions would get in the way. He thought he had it all.
But, as comedian Stephen Wright once quipped, “You can’t have everything. Where would you put it?” Eventually, we learn that having it all becomes more of a burden than a blessing, especially when we need to rent spaces to accommodate all our stuff. And so the conundrum continues from ancient times until now.
When the world causes us to believe that our worth is defined by what we own, we are trapped. It’s ironic then, that Jesus uses the metaphor of a camel going through the eye of a needle to talk about how hard it is for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God. The amount of stuff that many accumulate as a means of validating their worth can create an ever-narrowing pathway until, eventually, it’s impossible to squeeze their way in or out.
And you may notice that the disciples are surprised as well, asking how anyone can have eternal life under such stringent rules.
Now, what do we do with that? First and foremost, we must not be so amazed by the first part of Jesus’s answer that we forget the second, which is simply: Follow me. The good news is that with God: All things are possible.
On a more practical note, most of us don’t feel wealthy, so that’s one way to get out of this. But the truth is that if you live in the United States and have even a very modest home and income, you’re still wealthier than the over 2 billion people in the world who make less than two dollars a day. This is, thus, a cautionary tale for all of us.
What Jesus challenges us to do is a simple overview. The question is whether we’ll seek health and wholeness by learning to give up our stuff when we’re asked, or whether we’ll continue to cram our houses and bodies full of the junk that the culture says we need. Only when we’re willing to let go, to see all our stuff as belonging to God, will we begin to see the light of the kingdom break through all the clutter.
Don Henley in his song “Gimme What You Got,” says this…
“Here, in the home of the brave
And the land of the free
The first word that baby learns is "more"
So you're out there floating like a big, puffy cloud
With the pool and the charcoal
And the kids and the wife
'Til the reruns of your dreams are interrupted
And you step out into life
You can arm yourself, alarm yourself
But there's nowhere you can run
'Cause a man with a briefcase
Can steal more money
Than any man with a gun
From Main Street to Wall Street to Washington
From men to women to men
It's a nation of noses pressed up against the glass
They've seen it on the TV
And they want it pretty fast
You spend your whole life
Just pilin' it up there
You got stack and stacks and stacks
Then, Gabriel comes and taps you on the shoulder
But you don't see no hearses with luggage racks”
The rich man did keep his commandments: “You shall not murder. You shall not commit adultery. You shall not steal. You shall not bear false witness… Honor your father and mother.” But if you noticed, the first three were not mentioned: Having one god; not taking God’s name in vain; Remembering the Sabbath. Those first three commandments are first because those are the ones that remind us to honor God, to make everything in our lives subject to God. When we take those commandments seriously, everything changes, and the first thing to change is that our own idea of perfection is nothing compared to God’s perfection. For God, perfection and prosperity aren’t about houses and mountains of material goods. Rather, they’re all about giving away, about clearing the clutter and letting go of anything and everything that keeps us from finding the door to God’s kingdom.
How much do we have? Here are some statistics from a few years ago:
“• 99 percent of U.S. homes have at least one TV; 66 percent have three or more.
- 77.2 million Xboxes have been sold.
- 5.5 million U.S. families own more than one home.
- Americans throw away more than 38 million tons of food per year.
- American families eat out an average of four to five times a week.
- U.S. market for luxury goods: $182 billion.”
How would we respond if called upon to give up our material possessions? After all, is it wrong to have money to feed and shelter our families, to put our children or grandchildren through college, to have a few extras? Not really. But in our culture, that’s not what it is all about anyway. Jesus knows it, and so do we.
Jesus tells us one simple thing about stuff. His call is clear: Give up what defines your life, and follow me. In this case, it clearly was the man's toys and playthings, all those things he had managed to acquire. Jesus challenges the man to make an exchange: drop what limits him in exchange for what frees him - opens him up to a wider and more meaningful life.
Because, you see, we are severely limiting ourselves. What does all this stuff say about us really? And, in the pursuit of purchasing more and more, we are limiting ourselves to what God wants us to be.
Think on this for a moment, an essay that has been around for a while.
“The Paradox of Our Time in History is that we spend more, but have less; we buy more, but enjoy it less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; more medicine, but less wellness.
We read too little, watch TV too much and pray too seldom.
We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
These are the times of tall men, and short character; steep profits, and shallow relationships.
These are the days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.
We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years; we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.”
Yes, that is life. And it would all be bad news if not for this. The word that stuck out for me this past week was that Jesus loved this rich man. Loved him. Jesus knew he could not let go of those many things that owned him. But he still loved him. And as we struggle to make our way in a consumeristic society, the good news is that we are loved. It is because God loves us that Jesus wants us to be truly free. And we can be free only if we put Him first. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
18 Pentecost (Year B)
Mark 9:30-37
St. John’s, West Seneca
September 22, 2024
Grace to you and Peace from God our Father and the LORD Jesus Christ. Amen.
Humorist Dave Barry, in his book Dave Barry Hits Below the Beltway, writes: “When I got to Washington, I discovered that even among young people, being a good guy was not the key thing: The key thing was your position on the great Washington totem pole of status. Way up at the top of this pole is the president; way down at the bottom, below mildew, is the public. In between is an extremely complex hierarchy of government officials, journalists, lobbyists, lawyers and other power players, holding thousands of minutely graduated status rankings differentiated by extremely subtle nuances that only Washingtonians are capable of grasping.
"…For example, Washingtonians know whether a person whose title is ‘Principal Assistant Deputy Undersecretary’ is more or less important than a person whose title is ‘Associate Principal Deputy Assistant Secretary,’ or ‘Principal Deputy to Deputy Assistant Secretary,’ or ‘Deputy to the Deputy Secretary,’ or ‘Principal Assistant Deputy Undersecretary,’ or ‘Chief of Staff to the Assistant Assistant Secretary.’ (All of these are real federal job titles.)
"Everybody in Washington always seems to know exactly how much status everybody else has.”
We do like to rank ourselves, don’t we? Status it is not limited to politicians and their various deputies and assistants. Academia has full professors, Associate professors, assistant professors, adjunct lecturers and so on.
The medical community has the same with the Chief of Staff, followed by the heads of each department: Cardiology, Infectious Disease, and so on. Even the church falls into the status category, with Bishops, Assistants to the Bishop, Senior Pastors and Associates Pastors, Assistant Pastors, and Co-Pastors.
And there is nothing wrong with most of it, except when, like so many things, it becomes all consuming, the be-all and end-all of what life is about.
We are on the road again with Jesus and his disciples. And once, he wants to keep it quiet. He is teaching them about what is to come: “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again”. Now, as is normal for Mark, the disciples don’t understand and don’t ask either. Most probably, this talk of betrayal and death and rising again doesn’t fit their idea of who the Messiah is.
They reach their destination, Capernaum, and knowing that they have been talking among themselves, Jesus asks this: “What were you arguing about on the way?” They are silent because they had been discussing – or arguing - with one another about who was the greatest. They know there is something wrong about this, but as they are traveling with Jesus, of course, the topic comes up. Who is going to be the deputy to the Messiah?
Jesus says to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” To be first you must be last, he insists; to be great you must be a servant.
And to show just how radical this idea is, Jesus takes a little child in his arms and says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” They were probably dumbstruck by this. First, there would be no reason for a child to be close to a teacher such as Jesus, or in the middle of a group of men. Children were to stay with the women and keep themselves out of the way. But here is a child, and Jesus takes on the role that a woman normally would have.
Also, in Jesus’s time, children had no status; essentially, they were nobodies until they came of age. And here Jesus is saying, “When you welcome a nobody, you welcome me. And when you welcome me, you welcome God. So if you want to be first in the kingdom of God, then you must welcome all, no matter the status or the assigned societal position.” We would like to believe that this text is about the innocence of children, but it is not. It is about something much closer to our hearts and minds, and that is status.
Jesus is calling us to flip our usual attitudes toward greatness and honor and fame completely upside down. We tend to look at life from the top down, giving our greatest attention to the people who have competed with one another and come out on top. The Olympics ended just a short time ago, and we certainly saw the “greatest," even the “GOAT,” the greatest of all time. We assign this adjective with others as well: singers, actors and artists, as well as with politicians and business leaders. It is a normal, human response; we are drawn to status and we are impressed by their talents and accomplishments.
But Jesus is saying, “No — change your perspective.” Instead, he says, look at life from the bottom up and give your greatest attention to the people who have no fame. Focus on children, on single mothers, on environmental service workers, on the working poor, on the homeless. “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me,” says Jesus, “and whoever welcomes me” … welcomes God.
And we welcome God whenever we treat people with the dignity they deserve, as people who are made in God’s image.
Your ability to be a servant is demonstrated when you do things you don’t have to do. It’s that old saying: Character is who you are when no one is looking.
“On a stifling June afternoon in Philadelphia, New York Yankees Manager Joe Torre was about to step into the air-conditioned comfort of the players' entrance at Veterans Stadium when a middle-aged man called his name. Torre is not one of those celebrities who walk past people head down as if they didn't hear a thing. So he stopped, assuming he would be asked for an autograph.
"He was wrong. ‘I met you almost 30 years ago,’ the man said. ‘I was in high school, and I wanted to drop out. My parents asked you to talk to me one day because they thought I might listen to a ballplayer. They were right. I'm a lawyer now. I just wanted to tell you thanks.’
"Torre was pleased by the story, albeit a bit stunned. ‘I had a little, tiny, vague memory when he brought it up,’ he said. ‘But that was it.’
"Before he could take the last few steps to the players' entrance, Torre was stopped again, by a younger man. ‘Twenty years ago I had cancer,’ he said. ‘They thought I was terminal. You were with the Mets. You came to see me and gave me a pep talk. I never forgot it. When you were sick, I realized I never said thank you.’ Again, Torre was rendered almost speechless.
"[Later, he said,] ‘It makes you realize what all of us…can do if we put just a little effort into things. And I mean just a little. A word here, a pat on the back there, a phone call. Right or wrong, because of who we are and what we do, it can have a tremendous effect on people. It's something I wish we could all be a little bit more aware of.’ -John Feinstein, "Pride of the Yankees," The Washington Post Magazine, July 25, 1999, 7.
According to Google, Joe Torre’s title is now: Special Assistant to the Commissioner.
We are socialized into thinking that money and status are basic human needs. We just think they are. "Rings and jewels are not gifts, but apologies for gifts," Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote. "The only true gift is a portion of thyself."
“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all…Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”
The title of “Servant,” can be difficult to take on. We like to be in charge. Maybe we need to think differently. In Joan of Arcadia, a show from the early 2000’s, God, who always shows up in a different guise simply says: “I want you to run some errands for me.” Not a bad job, running errands. And so, my friends, the title we should most seek: Servant of God. Amen.
Soli Deo Gloria
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