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.
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