James 3:13-4:3,7-8a
Mark 9:30-37
I read a newspaper story about a young man named Oliver who had a secret he was so embarrassed about, so humiliated by, that he went to great lengths for many years to keep it hidden. The secret was that he could not read.
When he was in first grade he was suspended for a week, and when he returned to school he felt utterly lost, way behind. His home life was difficult, and school was hard, and he said nobody ever talked to him about why school even mattered. Oliver continued to struggle and never caught up.
Still, he was promoted from one grade to the next, year after year, until he graduated high school – and still did not know how to read.
He went out into the world, looking for a job that wouldn’t require reading skills. He couldn’t read a restaurant menu or a street sign or a text message, and he was ashamed. He lied in order to hide his secret, but his lies were always eventually discovered and then he was fired.
How difficult it can be for us to admit our weaknesses.
It is a little bit painful for us to watch the disciples trying to hide their ignorance when they didn’t understand what Jesus was saying. This is the second time in Mark’s gospel when Jesus tells his disciples that he will suffer and die. Just last week we heard him doing this, trying to help his disciples understand what they were involved in. When Peter had proclaimed the great revelation that Jesus was the Messiah, Jesus wanted him and the others to really understand what it meant for them to say that about him: that he would be rejected by the religious leaders, that he would suffer and be put to death.
At that time, you may recall, Peter – who was feeling quite proud of himself for getting the right answer – took the opportunity to chide Jesus for being such a downer. Jesus let Peter know in no uncertain terms that he was out of line and way off the mark. Still, it seems as though neither Peter nor any of the others really got it. The lessons would need to continue.
So at some point later on their wanderings through Galilee, Jesus broached the subject with them again. Mark tells us they still didn’t get it. And what’s more, they were afraid to say so.
Judging from the conversation, or rather argument, that ensued, I guess they were a bit afraid of being seen as a loser. Isn’t that how it goes? They probably looked around at the others, trying to get a sense of whether or not they were the only dummy in the room who didn’t understand. We all know it takes a certain amount of courage to be the one person who raises your hand and says, “Teacher, I don’t get it. Please explain it to me.”
It was more than Oliver was able to do for many years while he struggled through school, then struggled to survive in the world without the ability to read. Year after year, he was afraid to ask for help; year after year, no one seemed to notice how much he needed help.
And so I could keep it real simple today, end it here, and just tell you there’s no such thing as a stupid question. Just like every school teacher has said at one time or another, it’s always worth asking questions. And while this is important and true, I believe there was something more going on in Galilee. I believe there is another important message for us to hear today.
A very odd thing that happened after Jesus said these things to them: the disciples began arguing amongst themselves about who was the greatest. And I think to myself, were they delusional? Because not a single one of them, up to this point, is looking great. Time after time, they have failed to understand Jesus. Again and again, they have failed to act in a way that would demonstrate they are growing in their discipleship.
I realize that progress often comes slowly. We improve not by leaps and bounds, but by millimeters – at least that’s the way I have felt about my shoulder during all these months of physical therapy – so I want to give the disciples credit for making some progress. If nothing else, they are sticking with him. They are trying. But are they great? Come on, by what standard is any of them great?
I do have to wonder if this is just a distraction for them, a way of denying the things Jesus is telling them simply because they cannot face the possibility that he is speaking the truth. They cannot face the possibility that the teacher they have decided to follow is headed down a path, not of triumph, but of humility.
They weren’t completely positive about this because they didn’t understand what he was saying. But they were afraid to ask because they sure didn’t want to know.
What if following Jesus really did mean taking up one’s cross? What if following Jesus meant letting go of your dreams of power and success? What if following Jesus meant everything you had been hoping for was actually wrong?
What if your standard for greatness was wrong?
Jesus asked them what they were arguing about and once again they were silent. They didn’t want to tell him, because while there were clearly a lot of things they didn’t understand, they did seem to understand that this argument was kind of dumb. Being caught out like this was as bad as having to admit that you didn’t understand his meaning when he talked about what the Son of Man would go through. Actually, being caught out like this was probably even worse.
But Jesus didn’t even say anything about it. Instead, he called to one of the children in the household. And he took that child and hugged him close. And he looked at his disciples and said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”
To be a disciple of Jesus is to open your arms to those who have the least to offer. To be a disciple of Jesus is to lift up the ones who are weak. And to be a disciple of Jesus is to know that you, too, are weak.
For it is weakness that will lead to his persecution at the hands of the authorities. It is weakness that will lead to his death. But the thing these men have failed to understand is that in this weakness there is real strength. In this weakness there is true greatness.
What they don’t want to know, eventually will know: really knowing Jesus means knowing where true greatness lies and that it is not in the things that the world finds great. Really knowing Jesus means knowing that humility is a spiritual superpower. To really know Jesus means knowing that peace will never come from bringing the fight, but only from bringing the love. As the letter of James says, the wisdom that comes from God is pure, peaceable, willing to yield.
And it is risky to know these things. It is risky to commit your life to following Jesus in the way of peace, gentleness, humility. The world won’t understand it. They will call you sappy, soft – and those are the nice words they will use. The world might think it is actually kind of sad that you never achieved greatness – because the world does not understand what true greatness is.
The risk that you take in following Jesus is that you will really understand who he is and who he is calling you to be: peaceful, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy.
This is the risk the world is waiting for us to take.
