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S. Pentecost 18.24 Mark 9:30-37

“But they kept silent, for on the way they had argued with one another about who was the greatest.”

Uh-huh. Sure glad that never happens in the church anymore! I’m being facetious, let the reader understand. It happens a lot—not so much among the laity, I think, as with the clergy, all the time, which is why pastors’ conferences are so much fun. We see in the Gospels that the arguments about greatness are nearly always among the apostles. And this one in our Gospel today is far from the last one, nor the least contentious…

At the Last Supper(!) in Luke 22, right after Jesus gives them his body and blood to eat and drink for Christ’s sake!—at the most solemn moment, on that most holy, somber of nights, the very next thing Luke reports is that an argument breaks out (!) among the 12, about which of them was the greatest. And what Jesus says to his argumentative apostles there in Luke is helpful, I think, in figuring out the cryptic last sentence of our Gospel today about receiving children and receiving Jesus.

Jesus concludes the apostolic argument by saying, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them and those in authority over them are called ‘benefactors’. But not so with you. Rather, let the greatest among you become as the youngest, and the leader as one who serves. For who is greater, the one reclining at table or the one serving? Is it not the one who reclines at table? But I am among you as the serving one.”

The usual takeaway from that saying seems to be—taking a page out of Moses’ playbook, the (self-proclaimed?) most humble man who ever lived—to start arguing about who is the most humble, who has the biggest “servant-heart”. Just so you know, you cannot attend a pastors’ conference in our Synod without hearing the term “servant-heart”, fairly often. Just repeating it, right now, makes my stomach a little flippy.

I’m not above the fray, either. The draft of my book, “Humility and How I Achieved It” is fairly lengthy and far from finished. I mean, I see no reason why Moses should wear the crown. Someone has to be the most humble, right? Why not me? though, obviously, I’ll have a harder time getting there than most—with so little to be humble about, but the difficulty is what’ll make the achievement so great, and what will surely make the book, if I can finish it, a best-seller. 😉

Still in facetious mode, BTW… 😉

I probably shouldn’t point this out, but instead of (as we would expect) rebuking them sharply for arguing about greatness, desiring to be great, going for the glory, instead of telling them to stop it!—all this thinking about themselves, and to just become people-persons, for Christ’s sake! Jesus does not discourage their quest for greatness, but instead gives very detailed instructions on how to achieve true greatness, using himself as the exemplar.

Huh! That seems a little strange, right? Winston Churchill was once asked to say one nice thing about a particular political opponent Churchill habitually mocked and ridiculed. He paused. Thought deeply for a while, and then, the light coming on in his twinkly eyes, says: “He is a humble man, with much to be humble about.” I have the strong impression Jesus would vote for Churchill over his “humble” opponent!

Seriously, now—my first takeaway from this Gospel is that we should not abandon the quest for GREATNESS, nor should we shy away from long, hard reflection about ourselves. C.S. Lewis said one of his best friends (almost certainly Tolkien) was selfish, but not self-centered. That is, he thought long and hard about how to be the best self he could be, but never talked of himself, but of a hundred other, more amusing things, because his thoughts were centered on God and how to become godly, himself—which made him a delightful companion.

Read C.S. Lewis’ fine little sermon “The Weight of Glory” if you haven’t already.

My second takeaway is that the quest for greatness (as well as the quest for humility 😉 are far from opposed, yet are paradoxical. We reach the True West by sailing East. Seeking humility often results in greatness and vice versa. Get one and the other follows as as happy accident.

Which leads to my third takeaway: it’s always an accident—greatness, or humility (or faith, love, or goodness for that matter!). If you try for it, you’ll always fail. Remember what Yoda says about trying! When you’re not trying—when you’re absorbed by Someone Else who drives thoughts of achieving greatness yourself out of your head, the unsought gift lands in your lap as a happy accident.

The path to Heaven isn’t straight. It twists, turns, runs along the bias.

So, Jesus says: if you want to be great, be the youngest (childish? child-like?) be as the serving one. Jesus is at the Last Supper as the serving one. Paul tells the pastors of the Ephesian churches in Acts 20 to remember the words of the Lord Jesus who said (nowhere reported in the Gospels, BTW, but only here, by Paul, to the Ephesians pastors) “It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

Few sayings get more mangled by modern interpreters! Few notice Jesus isn’t saying this to everyone. NO! He’s saying it to the pastors only. As pastors, shepherds of the flock, it is more blessed for us, as pastors, to give than to receive. But we can only give what we have first received from Jesus as sheep, ourselves, sinners needing saving, ourselves. Only the open hand of faith can receive the gifts bestowed by Word and Sacrament that make knights of faith of the non-rejecting recipient—which make great by humiliating us, by sharing Jesus’ cross, and suffering, and dying, first.

So, might it actually be good, right, and salutary—the apostles’ continual arguing about greatness? Maybe arguing is just how they let Jesus know that they care? Maybe… since Jesus’ greatness is in the humiliation of the CROSS, this is the only Way, for us, as well? As Rilke said of Jacob, defeated by the Angel: “victories are not inviting to him. His gain is to be profoundly vanquished by ever greater things.”

That line’s helpful, unpacking Jesus’ cryptic saying: “when you receive one such child in my name, you receive me.” 30 years of fatherhood have provided me plenty of… profound vanquishing. You love them so much, yet, so often, show it so poorly, and yet; the love that binds you together anyway is the greatest happiest accident… 😉

Far from rebuking our quest for greatness—Jesus, after the Supper, tells his argumentative apostles: “you are those who have stayed with me in my trials and I assign to you, as my Father assigned to me, a Kingdom, that you may eat and drink at my table in my Kingdom and sit on thrones judging the 12 tribes of Israel.”

That Table’s set, here, before you. Eat and drink the broken body, shed blood of Jesus. Sharing his sufferings, you share his love. Simply… glorious; and Peace, surpassing all understanding, will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus. Amen.