The Abby, Iona, Scotland

 Impossible Possibilities – A Sermon based on Mark 10. 17-31, preached at First Presbyterian Church, Clarks Summit, PA on Sunday, October 13, 2024 

On my way here this morning, in the first ten miles from our home to the ramp for 81 South, I passed six properties dedicated to preserving, protecting or selling people’s stuff.  At the corner where our dirt road meets State Route 374 stands a building with 20 garage doors behind which people have piled the stuff their attics and basements no longer hold.  For most of the year a horse trailer, a fifth-wheel camper, and a boat trailer are parked in the grass inside the fence which surrounds the green roofed tan metal building.

            Following the highway west for a quarter mile and just as the road makes a ninety-degree turn five more beige buildings appeared. One of them houses the offices and construction equipment of the owner’s plumbing and excavating business.  The other four are lined with more garage doors guarding all manner of stuff: household overflow, boats from the nearby lake and antique cars.

            Less than a mile west of there the fields and barns of what used to be a dairy farm are home to a family auction business.  There are acres of compact and farm tractors, hundreds of vehicles, including a fire truck, pieces of construction equipment, bicycles, boats, pallets of bluestone, appliances and boxes of random stuff lined up as far as the eye can see.  Next Saturday the vacant fields nearby will be filled with the cars, trucks and trailers of people who have come to bid on the bargains so they can add to their stuff.

            Before I got to the interstate, I passed another, (you guessed it) green roofed tan building where stuff labeled “Antiques and Oddities” are auctioned off on the last Saturday of each month. Lastly, I passed a former bar converted into a space where “vintage” stuff is on sale Thursdays through Sundays. And that’s to say nothing of the stuff that is visible in many of the yards along the way.

Full disclosure, when our house was undergoing renovation and expansion, we kept a lot of stuff in the self-storage unit down the road. Like many of our fellow Americans, we have way too much stuff.  Thankfully, a lot of that stuff was salvage from the renovations and made it to the Habitat for Humanity Re-store in Nanticoke.

            Why am I blathering on about all this stuff lined up, piled high, and crammed behind doors? Very simply, because ever since Mark recorded the story of the fellow who came to ask Jesus what he could do to inherit eternal life, folks have heard the end of the story this way: “he was shocked and went away grieving because he had too darn much stuff!”

            Now is probably a good time to review a bit of what we know about the way the author of the Gospel of Mark operates.  The first eight chapters of Mark tell stories about Jesus as he preaches, teaches and heals people throughout the northern portion of Israel known as the Galilee.  The last six chapters are devoted to the final week of Jesus’ life. Today’s reading comes near the end of two transitional chapters in between which begin and end with stories of Jesus healing someone who was blind. In them, Jesus tells his disciples what awaits him in Jerusalem and describes what true discipleship involves. 

            Mark likes to use the stories that precede and follow each story to interpret one another.  That means we need to pay attention to what happened just before the passage we’re reading and what comes next.  In this case, just before the man runs up to Jesus to ask his question, Mark tells of the time the disciples try to shoo away some people who were bringing little children to be touched by Jesus.  “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them,” says Jesus, “for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs.  Truly I tell you,” he told them, “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.”

            Now, up comes a man who wants to know what he has to do to inherit eternal life, and in the course of the discussion he tells Jesus he has kept the commandments of God since he was a youth!   As the story unfolds the man is asked to unburden himself of his stuff in order to follow Jesus, and apparently goes away unable to do so.

            What is Mark telling us with these two stories going back to back?  Perhaps he is using the contrast of accepting the kingdom of God as a dependent child with the audacity to think there is anything one can do to earn one’s way into God’s good graces.  Or, it could be that he’s making sure we know that following Jesus doesn’t end with signing on in childlike trust, but begins a life of hard choices to seek first the kingdom of heaven by living God’s way every day.  Might be that Mark is weighing in on the faith verses works discussion by pointing out that it is never either/or and always both/and.  The marvelous thing about all these possible messages is that they demonstrate a truth found in the letter to the Hebrews, which says “the word of God is living and active.”  It is not dead and static.  Depending on where you are in your spiritual pilgrimage at the time, any one of those lessons might be what the Spirit has readied your ears to hear. 

            Another thing we’ve learned about Mark is that he is most always brief, to the point, and stingy with the details.  His counterparts, Matthew and Luke borrow whole sections of Mark, almost word for word…and sometimes the little editorial additions from those works get in the way when we try to figure out what Mark is trying to tell us.  For instance, in the story this morning, Mark identifies the per-son who asks the question simply as “a man.”  Matthew adds that he was young. Luke describes him as a ruler of the people. All of them note at the end of the story that the man had great possessions.  As a result, no matter which Gospel we’re reading, it has come to be known as the story of the rich, young, ruler.

            What’s the big deal?  Well, if we don’t consider ourselves rich, or we are no longer young, and we’re not “a ruler of the people,” we might conclude that the story is not speaking to us or about us.  However, if we stick with Mark’s simple identifier, “a man,” and if we go one better and take gender out of it altogether and hear a story about “a person” who asked Jesus a question, we’re able to walk a mile in that one’s moccasins. 

Consider the question the man asked Jesus.  “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  Start with way Jesus is addressed and his response to being called “Good Teacher.”  Doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with that, does there?  It is a show of respect.  This story is not told among those where opponents were trying to trick Jesus into saying something they could then use against him as they sought to bring him down.

            Why then would Jesus begin his reply to the man with the question, “Why do you call me good?”  Scholars suggest he was diverting attention away from himself and pointing to God as the source of his wisdom.  What he says to the man is not the new revelation of a brilliant earthbound mind, but a repetition of what the Creator had taught as the way to live all along.

            Back to the heart of the question: “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”  A preaching professor suggests there is a contradiction in what the man is asking.  Pointing back to the previous incident where Jesus has commended the complete dependence of a little child as the way to accept the kingdom of God, the professor notes that the idea that one can do something to gain the kingdom doesn’t fit with what Jesus has just said. He points out: “One can rarely do anything for an inheritance; by definition, an inheritance is something a person can only be given.”[i]

            Eternal life is like any other inheritance:  it is a gift.  And what is the proper response to such a gift?  Acceptance for starters; and gratitude; and a willingness to put the gift to good use.  That said, we still do well to take seriously the question voiced by the man.  Commentator Lamar Williamson points out, “Even an heir must meet certain conditions and fulfill certain obligations, so this rich man asks what he must do to inherit life.”[ii] Jesus takes the man’s question seriously. There’s no hint of frus-tration or irritation or incredulity in what Jesus says in response.  He simply reviews what the man already knows, using the second tablet of the Ten Commandments to describe the kind of doing expected of people of faith. Jesus lifts up the commandments that deal with human relationships.

            “You know the commandments:  You shall not murder; you shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.” 

            Perhaps with a look of relief on his face the man responds: “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.”  He’s on the right track…he’s been doing what is expected of him.  Hearing this, Mark tells us: “Jesus, looking at him loved him.”  Can we imagine Jesus thinking: “finally, someone who gets it?” Here is someone who is living the commandments, not merely hanging them on a classroom wall. And Jesus loves him for it.

            And yet, there is more…Jesus does more than look at him…he speaks to him. Scott Bader-Saye say of his words: “Jesus’ call and challenge to the rich man arise from love and invite the man into love [when he says] (give the money to the poor.)  He continues: Jesus’ invita-tion is not a command or a judgment, not an attempt to exact justice; it is rather, an attempt to enact gratuity. To love the man, Jesus must tell him the hard truth that his wealth in his way. So Jesus invites him, as an act of love, to unload his burden, to give away his wealth, to free himself from that which has come to bind him, even though he has no idea he is so bound. This is love. This is the truth—and it is hard to hear.”[iii]

            Jesus issues his call to discipleship with five action packed words: “You lack one thing; GO, SELL what you own, and GIVE the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; the COME, FOLLOW me.”  The two movements of discipleship are contained in those five imperatives:  Leaving something behind; pursuing something new: Go, Sell, & Give, then Come & Follow.  In the process, the man is invited to take the focus off himself, and the attempt to save his own life, “What must I do…” Instead, Jesus invites him to focus on others. To love his neighbors by using his surplus to address their shortfall. Jesus invites him to empty all his self-storage units and share what’s in them with people who have need.

            The cost of discipleship, the leaving in order to follow, shocks the man. Last we see of him, he is walking away, grieving because what he has to leave behind is substantial.  Then we come to what Mark places after the story:  Jesus looks at his disciples (just as he looked at the man with love in his heart) and speaks about the difficulty wealth and possessions present to those who would be faithful.  Twice he says how hard it is to get into the kingdom of God. First time he appears to be talking about the man who walked away grieving.  Next time he includes them, and by extension us, because as we estab-lished at the beginning, most of us have too darn much stuff. “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God,” and follows it up by drawing the comical cartoon of a camel trying to squeeze through the eye of a needle.

            Many have tried to come up with modern equivalents of the camel/needle metaphor.  My favorite comes from the late Frederick Buechner under the heading of “Riches.”  In his collection Beyond Words, he wrote:

            “The trouble with being rich is that since you can solve with your checkbook virtually all of the practical problems that bedevil ordinary people, you are left in your leisure with nothing but the great human problems to contend with: how to be happy, how to love and be loved, how to find meaning and purpose in your life.

            “In desperation the rich are continually tempted to believe they can solve these problems too with the checkbooks, which is presumably what led Jesus to remark one day that for a rich man to get to heaven is about as easy as for a Mercedes to get through a revolving door.”[iv]

            To the disciples, steeped in a culture where it was assumed wealth was evidence of being blessed, Jesus’ words were shocking.  In exasperation the disciples ask: “Then who can be saved?”  In answer, Jesus points them back to God. He restates in a new way what God’s grace is all about…our salvation doesn’t depend on us, but on God.  With love in his eyes, his heart, his voice, Jesus says: “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

            At that point, Peter pipes up.  Speaking for those you’ve heard described throughout Bill Carter’s sermon series as the “duh-sciples,” he once again blurts out a truth that he doesn’t fully understand. “What about us? We’ve left everything and followed you?”  To which Jesus offers to those who have left everything behind for the sake of the good news the promise of families and bountiful fields, with persecutions, and eternal life.

            Including with the blessings the note about persecutions is a reality check. As one of my mentors said over and over: “No one ever said it would be easy.” The sacrifice and sharing that come with leaving something behind in order to follow Jesus come with a cost.  Maybe you missed out on family gathering or a social event last week in order to pick up trash, make sandwiches, stitch a quilt or sing some hymns with the folks over at The Pines. Yet, I’m guessing you found satisfaction in doing something for others, and joy in the company of the family God surrounded you with in the process.

            The prevailing interpretation of today’s story has been that the man walked away sorrow-fully because he could not bring himself to sell his stuff and share the proceeds with those in need. An alternate explanation suggests the man went away grieving because he had decided to follow Jesus. He knew how hard his letting go and leaving behind would be.  The marvelous thing about the Gospel of Mark is that it always leaves open the possibility of getting it right later. With God the impossible becomes possible.

            Mark is the Gospel that ends in the middle of a sentence. His Easter morning story says the women, having been told to tell the disciples he had been raised from the dead, “fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”  The ending is left in the air. It leaves us to finish the story with our lives.

            The man in today’s story may not be the sorrowful loser walking away from the call to follow. He may be a winner taking the first steps to leave behind what hindered him, and toward a new future following Jesus.

Here too, the story is ours to finish.

[i] Charles L. Campbell, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4, Homiletical Perspective, (Louisville, KY., Westminster John Knox Press, ©2009), p. 165
[ii] Lamar Williamson, Mark – Interpretation, (Louisville, KY, John Knox Press, ©1983,) p. 183
[iii] Scott Bader-Saye, Feasting on the Gospels, Mark, (Louisville, KY, John Knox Press ©2014), p. 310
[iv] Frederick Buechner, Beyond Words: Daily Readings in the ABC’s of Faith, (New York, HarperOne, ©2004), p p. 345-6

 

October 4, 2024 was my Mother, Jean Thyren's 100th Birthday.  That day the good folks who host her in Assisted Living in the Health Center of Cranes Mill Retirement Community threw a wonderful party for her.  The West Caldwell Borough Council President was on hand to present her with an 

official proclamation, as a resident of the community since 1950.

The party included the presentation of a Crown, a Queen's Robe and Scepter, music by Hunter Hayes, and cake and sparkling cider.  

Jan and I, my sister Nancy and brother-in-law Tom, our niece Kristin, our daughter, Carrie were able to represent the family and enjoy the festivities.

Later that afternoon and evening, our daughter Katie and granddaughters, Addie and Elise arrived from

Washington State, and niece Lauren, husband Chris, and their children, Abby and Declan arrived to join us at our block of rooms in Fairfield. Katie's husband, Chris, arrived on the red-eye Saturday morning.

(Carrie's hubby, Dane was taking care of canines Bullet and Zelda back in Illinois).

Saturday morning the out-of-towners dropped in to surprise and render the 100-year-old speechless, as the rest of us prepared a gathering in the "Country Kitchen" in the Assisted Living wing of Cranes Mill.

Richard and Susan Conners, lifelong friends who have been Mom's most frequent visitors, (and our go-to team to meet Mom's needs for tissues, batteries or other necessities) joined us.  Kristin Paterson 

organized a wonderful meal catered by the folks at Shop-Rite.

After the meal, we circled up for a time to celebrate the guest of honor.  What appears below is some-thing I wrote to precede a Champaign Toast to the Birthday Girl and a time when those around the 

circle shared memories of cherished moments with Jean.  (The pictures that follow have been added

as illustrations, here and there.)

One Hundred Years of Giving 

We gather to give thanks

for all the gifts we have received

in the form of Jean Maynard Ackerman Thyren

whose days we celebrate today.

We give thanks for a lifetime of giving

despite early setbacks wrought

by the Great Depression,

the Second World War,

and the untimely death of her father.

 

Some are stories of long-ago memories which speak of happy times:

a family gathered near the Shrewsbury in the summer

in a house with a circular grate bringing heat from the basement,

the men of the family arriving by train

in time for a quick dip before dinner.

Our love of “the shore” is surely in our genes from those early days.

Then there’s the mental picture conjured from the story

of two sisters walking home from their grandfather’s market,

abandoning the fish they carried

to the dog that robbed what was supposed to be dinner.

And who hasn’t heard of the nights

when the Ackerman sisters and the Hyde boys

were marched off to bed by Aunt Grace at the piano

after an evening of singing?

 

Fast forward, (if you know what the means)

past the high school years

which included helping a girlfriend change a tire

on her brother’s car

(to the horror of that friend’s mother.)

Skip over the mysterious “dance card”

found among the treasures in her scrap book,

and her days as a working girl at “the Pru.”

Recall the happy faces on the October night

she married the one who some of you know

as the second in the line of Thyren PopPops.

Wedded bliss began with some gifts that to this day

can be found on the walls and floors of Paddleberry…

and a memorable first dinner of boiled beef

quickly replaced by creamed eggs.

Though the sequence is fuzzy to one as yet unborn at the time,

Mom’s giving just as quickly included

caring for her new husband amid illnesses, ailments and surgeries.

And then came Nancy

and lots of cute pictures in cozy snowsuits amid a blizzard-

and six years later, yours truly arrived

in time for one of the hottest summers ever.

In between,

the beloved bungalow on Thrumont Road

where so many of our memories still reside,

and so many of our gifts were first bestowed:

dresses, pajamas, baptismal suits, blouses and shirts sewn

on a machine paid for in weekly installments.

Hand knit mittens and hats.

Repurposed toys and furniture from neighbors

who had outgrown them.

Train sets and first radios, barbells and other treasures long forgotten.

 

Sunday dinners with Aunt Doris telling stories

of her cruise on the Queen of Bermuda or trip with the Ski Club.

Christmas breakfast with Nana and PopPop.

Clearing out the furniture for Doris and Dave’s Wedding Reception.

Sunday dinners with PopPop and Uncle Albin and Gandy.

Desserts tested on us before served to Bridge Club on Tuesday night:

Prune Whip

or a cake made of minty chocolate cookies glued together and iced.

 

Into that house she welcomed the next generation,

first Kristin, when not visiting her on Westville Avenue.

From it she took an endless bus ride to Unadilla

to cook and provide care after Katie arrived on a July night.

Lauren took up residence around the corner and Grandma

helped get her into her sox before nursery school.

Carrie came next and was relieved when Casey

and Holly took her place as the first one to be

put out of the play space in the guest bedroom.

Memories of holiday visits abound!

We’ll let you tell us about them.

 

For those with eyes to see,

the woman of the house taught us about caring for others,

and making a difference in the larger world:

Sunday School Teacher and Elder in charge of Communion,

Circle leader, lifetime member of Presbyterian Women,

making the RCA Book to pay off the Christian Ed wing of church,

Treasurer of the Serrv Shop, worker at the Thrift Shop,

and in later years VFW Auxiliary Memorial Day Marcher.

 

More importantly,

we observed caring in action, giving in meaningful ways:

the devoted daughter visiting at Green Hill,

the rock of a sister and aunt during Dave’s cancer battle,

the stalwart friend of bridge club cronies facing struggles,

the confidant and helper for Alice and Betty,

and the courageous companion of her husband,

our father and grandfather,

as they faced their final illnesses.

 

In each of our homes

there are little reminders

of 100 years of giving and caring

by the woman we honor today:

Ornaments for the Christmas tree

and cross-stitch pictures,

items of jewelry chosen after a sweaty soccer match,

or fine art pottery from the Cranes Mill collection.

 

Yet the ones that count the most

are the memories we hold dear

and the ones we are making today

as we say

Happy Birthday Mom

Happy Birthday Grandma

Happy Birthday Ggma!

 

 

 

True Greatness – A Sermon preached on September 22, 2024 at The Presbyterian Church of Dunmore, PA.  Text: Mark 9. 30-37 
Photo Credit, James E. Thyren, Stained Glass Window, The Presbyterian Church of Dunmore

 

It was one of those clear your calendar, shut-off your cell phone, gather ‘round and listen up moments. It was a turn off the TV, come into the kitchen, grab a cup of something and sit around the table, we have to talk gathering.  It was a close the door behind you, write this down so you’ll remember it later occasion.

            We’ve all been there.  There is important information to be shared: a job lost or found; a relationship beginning or coming to an end; a health challenge to be faced rather than avoided; a problem in search of a solution; an opportunity in need of an agreed upon strategy. Could be a circle of siblings concerned about an aging parent.  Might be a corporate retreat to roll out a new product.  Often it is a church Session or a community advisory board trying to discern how to adapt to changing times. Or it could be a leader trying to prepare followers for the future. We’ve all been there.

“They went on from there and passed through Galilee.

He did not want anyone to know it 

for he was teaching his disciples…”[i]

            Way up north where the headwaters of the Jordan bubbled out of the ground at the Banyas Springs near Caesarea Philippi, the private instruction had begun with questions asked and answered; with Jesus’ identity as the Messiah revealed; with that title and roll redefined by suffering, the predic-tion of his arrest and rejection and death, all preceding something about rising again “after three days.”

            That they understood none of it was demonstrated by Peter, who gave Jesus a good talking to about not saying such foolish things.  Jesus, in turn, let Peter know in no uncertain terms that he was out of line because he was looking at things from the human side and had not yet discovered how God sees things.

            Their inability to understand led to a short burst of instruction indicating that the Way of Jesus was not the way of the world.  It was hard to grasp then, and still is today.

“If any want to become my followers,

let them deny themselves

and take up their cross and follow me.

For those who want to save their life will lose it,

and those who lose their life for my sake,
and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”[ii]

            Self-denial instead of self-promotion?  Losing one’s life on behalf of Jesus instead of saving one’s life on behalf of the self?  These are concepts that don’t make sense to those who live by “me first” and for whom taking care of others sounds like being played for a sucker. From the sandbox to foreign relations the Way of Jesus is a very tough sell.

            So the Teacher kept at it. He took his three brightest pupils, Peter, James and John, and treated them to a private lesson. While pondering in their hearts what sort of Messiah Jesus was turning out to be, they found themselves on a mountaintop swept up in a vision of Jesus having a little chat with Moses and Elijah.

            Moses was the one through whom God’s instructions for living had first been delivered. Elijah was one of the prophets who reminded the people of those instructions whenever they forgot or ignored them.  To see Jesus standing with those two sent a signal that he knew what he was talking about.  That message was confirmed when God’s spoke:

“This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him.”[iii]

Any lingering doubt was dispelled when the cloud lifted and the disciples saw Jesus standing there alone.  Still, it was not something they could share down in the valley, at least not yet. Jesus told them to keep quiet “until the Son of Man had risen from the dead.”

            Once down the mountain, they were reunited with the rest of the disciples, who were in a brouhaha with some of the scribes. A crowd had gathered to watch the fight. Jesus asked what was going on.  A man stepped up to say that he had brought his son in the hope that Jesus might cure his son of the epileptic seizures that often imperiled his life.  Since Jesus hadn’t been around, the man had asked his disciples to effect the cure, which they had been unable to accomplish.

            Mark breathlessly describes the scene as it continues to unfold. The boy is convulsed by a seizure.  Jesus asks how long these things have been happening. The father explains they’ve been coming on him since childhood and describes the horror of it all and the added danger when a seizure struck while the boy was near a body of water or a cooking fire. The father ends his answer with a plea:

“…you are able to do anything for us,

have pity on us and help us.”

Jesus said to him,

“If you are able!---

All things can be done for the one who believes.

Immediately the father of the child cried out,
‘I believe; help my unbelief.’[iv]

            Long story short, Jesus calls the spirit out, the boy goes limp, observers conclude that he is dead, but Jesus takes him by the hand and he stands up.  Puzzled, the disciples ask why they had not been able to help the boy. Jesus says “This kind can come out only through prayer.”  The disciples, and we who hear the tale told, are left scratching our heads.  If there was a prayer, Mark failed to mention it or record its content.  Unless he is talking about the prayer lifted up by the boy’s father, one of the most honest prayers we will ever hear…or take upon our lips:

“I believe; help my unbelief!”

            When asked his favorite verse from the Bible, one of the college chaplains I hung around with answered, “I believe; help my unbelief.” I think it was because those words capture a truth we don’t often admit to. I’m skeptical of anyone who says their faith has never wavered, that their belief system has never been shaken.

It is reassuring that Jesus responded to the father’s honest words. It is comforting to realize God doesn’t expect us to have it all together all the time. It is helpful to know, that in those moments when something in life has thrown us for a loop or someone we love to the ground, there is an acceptable prayer to offer:

“I believe; help my unbelief.”

            It is from the foot of the mountain after the boy has been restored to health, that Jesus and his disciples make their way to Galilee and to the next bit of instruction. Leaving the crowds behind once more the teacher gets to work, telling them for the second time what lies ahead:

“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.”[v]

            Even though they had heard this before, they didn’t get it.  It was a lot to take in.  It didn’t make sense that he had to die.  Even more baffling was the bit about rising again after three days.  Mark tells us two things at this point:

“…they didn’t understand what he was saying
and were afraid to ask him.”[vi]

            Jill Duffield cuts the disciples some slack as she reflects on the moment. She asks: “How many times have we been afraid to ask – even when we knew we didn’t under-stand? How often has our fear of revealing our ignorance prevented us from a revelation, from a new way of seeing, from a deepened relationship? We know the saying ‘There are no stupid questions,’ and yet we do not ever want to appear stupid. It takes courage to raise our hand, stop the lecture, risk the annoyance of the teacher, face the eye rolls of our fellow students and say: ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’[vii]

            Maybe the disciples were afraid to ask such a question because they remembered what happened the last time he spoke about this.  When Peter objected, Jesus called him Satan.  Look-ing stupid is one thing, making Jesus mad is another.  So they decided to keep their mouths shut.

            Sort of.  The journey toward Jerusalem is paused when they come to Capernaum, which had been their headquarters in Galilee from the beginning. Behind closed doors, perhaps in Peter’s house where they had gathered before, Jesus asks what they have been talking about as they followed along behind him.

            For the second time, they choose to remain silent. You can imagine them looking down at their dusty sandals, avoiding eye contact at all costs. Retired professor Harry Adams explains, and then brings the story into our living space:

            “This time the disciples seem to have been silent because they are ashamed to answer. ‘But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest,”[viii] (writes Mark) It is hard to imagine that the disciples had so little understanding of what Jesus had been saying to them that they would be arguing about which of them was the greatest. It is hard to imagine that, at least, until we realize how often we would be silent if Jesus were to confront us and ask us what we have been talking and fretting about. Some of us spend a lot of time worrying about our status, trying to get the symbols of prestige, and seeking to maneuver so that we get the acclaim.” Says Adams: “Many of us would fall silent if we were asked to explain how what we are doing and saying accords with the way of life Jesus sets before us.”[ix]

            That’s when Jesus called another family meeting. When Mark tells us “he sat down,” and “called the twelve,” it is a signal not to be missed.  In their culture, when a rabbi or a teacher declared class in session, he sat down to speak and called his students to gather around. Educator and activist Ched Myers notes that, the message we are meant to hear is clear and simple: “Pay attention to the teaching that follows.”[x]

            Jesus offers two sayings. The first turns each disciple’s wish to be the greatest on its head:

“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all
and servant of all.”[xi]

          The second saying explains the first, using a child as an illustration.

“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name

welcomes me,

and whoever welcomes me

welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”[xii]

            That first saying challenges so much of what we hear about greatness. Conventional wisdom encourages us to strive to be the lead dog pulling the sled because the view of all  the others is the same and none too pleasant. We are told that being number one means everyone else ought to serve us, march to our drumbeat, dance to our tune, fulfill our desires and demands. 

            Jesus begs to differ.  True greatness is not what the world at the time of Jesus thought it was, nor
is it now. Sinatra sang about being “king of the hill, A number one, the top of the heap,”[xiii] and that’s the kind of song the Roman Emperor thought said it all. Jesus sings a different song, lived different lyrics. The greatness Jesus places before us is not measured by the size of one’s house, the price of one’s car, or the ability to boss people around. The greatness Jesus teaches is shown in how low we will go in the very best way.

            The saying about welcoming a child is meant to drive that point home.  In order for us to grasp how shocking it was for Jesus to suggest welcoming a child had anything to do with greatness, we must leave behind our culture’s elevation of the child as a symbol of innocence and limit-less potential. Ched Myers tells us where children stood:

            “Children represented the bottom of the social and economic scale in terms of status and rights in the ancient Mediterranean world.”[xiv] William Placher amplifies the point: “The distinctive thing about children was their lack of any rights. A father could put a newborn outside to starve to death if he had wanted a boy and got a girl or if a baby seemed weak or handicapped. Children existed for the benefit of their parents—really their fathers.”[xv]

            In contrast, the Letter of James states that “Religion that is pure and undefiled by God…is to care for orphans and widows in their distress.” Turns out James was on the same page as Jesus…for a child, orphan or first born and future inheritor of the father’s fortunes, were as low as you could get. They were the most vulnerable and the least valued.

            Lest we confuse this passage with things Jesus said elsewhere, this is not the place where he urges disciples to be childlike in their ability to trust.  Here he is advocating a radical level of care.

            New Testament professor Sharon Ringe sharpens the Point when she writes: “This passage, then, is far from a saccharine scene in which Jesus cuddles sweet little children and welcomes them to Sun-day School. Instead, it is a powerful and even shocking depiction of the paradoxical values of God’s will and reign, which confront the dominant values of human societies and assign worth and importance to every person.”[xvi]

            William Placher sums it up well, with a challenge to us all this morning. He said:    “Welcoming children means helping the most vulnerable. Jesus is thus not urging childishness in any form on his disciples but telling them to stop competing about who will make the top and make sure they care for those on the bottom.”[xvii]

            Today, among those at the bottom, the most vulnerable in need of care, are Haitian immigrants living in Springfield, Ohio.  In the face of threats generated by claims proven false of eating cats and dogs, the churches of Springfield have followed the teachings of Jesus in standing up for their newest neighbors. The Presbyterian News Service reports that “The Rev. Jody Noble, pastor of Covenant Presbyterian Church in Springfield…has taken on…organizing and offering a press conference featuring her colleagues in ministry” to speak out in defense of their maligned neighbors. “…After two years of serving Covenant, Noble has baptized children of the Haitian families attending the church, who are present in worship nearly every Sunday. ‘If they’re not here, I get a text to say they are work-ing,’ Noble said. ‘They are beautiful people.’  She added, ‘To a person, employers will tell you that Haitian migrants “are fabulous to employ. They show up on time with good attitudes.” Covenant Presbyterians have cared for Haitian families with rides to church, car seats, bedding, food and other household items.” Reflecting on the recent need to speak out on their behalf Noble said: “This is how we responded, and this is how you can be ready for psycho-logical terrorism if it comes to your community.”[xviii]

            What Jesus said to the disciples about being servants of all, he says to us.  He calls us to serve those on the bottom, no matter what those at the top try to tell us about them.

 

[i] Mark 9. 30-31a
[ii] Mark 8. 34b-35
[iii] Mark 9. 7c
[iv] Mark 9. 14-24
[v] Mark 9. 31
[vi] Mark 9.32
[vii] Jill Duffield, The Presbyterian Outlook, “Looking into the Lectionary – Are you afraid to ask? Tuesday, Sept. 18, 2018.
[viii] Mark 9. 34
[ix] Harry B. Adams, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 4, Pastoral Perspective, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 94
[x] Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man, (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1988), p. 260
[xi] Mark 9. 35
[xii] Mark 9. 37
[xiii] a phrase from the song, “New York, New York.”
[xiv] ibid, Myers, p. 260-1
[xv] William C. Placher, Mark – Belief – A Theological Commentary on the Bible, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 134-5
[xvi] Sharon H. Ringe, Feasting on the Word, Year B, Volume 4, Exegetical Perspective, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 97
[xvii] ibid., Placher p. 135
[xviii] Mike Ferguson, “Covenant Presbyterian Church in Springfield, Ohio ministers to its community, including its

Haitian siblings.” Presbyterian News Service, September 19, 2024