Jesus love the children. Who are the children? September 20, 2015

Year B, Pentecost 17                                                                     
Mark 9:30-37                                                                                     
 

            One of my favorite images of Jesus is a picture that I have had hanging on my wall since I was a child.  I do not remember a time when that image of Christ was not in my head.  In the picture Jesus is seated with children all around him.  He is smiling and the children are smiling. When I look at that picture I imagine children swarming to Jesus as he leans down to speak with one.  He plays with them and talks to them.  There are several stories of Jesus with children and today’s Gospel is one of them.  It reminds me of the popular children’s song. 

Jesus loves the little children.

All the children of the world

Red, brown, yellow, Black and white

They are precious in His sight.

Jesus loves the little children of the world

            There is no wonder why Jesus loves the children.  Most people like children, especially when they can return them to their parents when they get cranky.  Jesus takes it a step further in the Gospel.  It’s not just about loving the children, it’s about welcoming the children. He said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”  Jesus loves the little children.  When we hear these words, we probably think of the children who we know…children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.  And it is no wonder why Jesus welcomes them.  We are reminded that we too should welcome the little children.   Most churches are pretty good about that.   

But that is not what this Gospel is actually about.  Children today are treated differently than they were in Jesus’ day.  In our culture children are important. People orient their lives around their children.  Parents say that their children are the most important part of their lives.  But this was not so in Jesus’ day.  Children were ignored.  Sure, most parents loved their children, but children had no rights. They were expendable.  There was a letter found from this time period from a Roman soldier to his pregnant wife.  He wrote, “If you have a girl, take her outside and leave her.” Children were expendable.

Jesus was saying something new in this Gospel, something very countercultural.  By welcoming children, he was welcoming those who were expendable.  Not only that, he was telling his disciples that by welcoming those who were expendable, they were welcoming him.  This was in response to an argument that the disciples were having.  After Jesus had once again shared with them that he would be crucified and then resurrected, he heard them arguing in hushed tones.  They were arguing about who was greater. It seems like madness, doesn’t it? Who does that? But it’s not that hard to imagine.  Most of us probably don’t have those kind of arguments out loud, but we have them inside.  In our heart we wonder why we are not as good as that person…or why if we are as good as that person…why we are not treated any better. 

I can just hear Peter and John saying, “Well we were the ones he brought on top of the mountain and got to see Moses and Elijah.  Clearly he likes us better.” Then maybe another disciple would counter with, “Oh really Peter….who was the one he just called Satan?  Whose is favorite now… satan?”  I find it easy to imagine this conversation because that is what I would have been saying.  It is what many of us would say or think, because we have a tendency to compare ourselves to one another especially when we are anxious or afraid.  The disciples let their fears and their insecurities take over.  Arguing about who was better was easier than coming to terms with the fact that Jesus would suffer and die.

Jesus asked what they were arguing about, but he did not wait to hear the answer.  He knew because he knew his disciples.  He knew that it was and is human nature to argue about petty things because it is easier than discussing weightier matters, like the death of their friend and the danger that might pose for them.  He knew.  Jesus also knew that giving them a lecture would not make a difference.  So he sat down and he called a child to him.  And he said (not in so many words, but it was understood): “This is who matters.  This is what matters.  It’s not your fears and insecurities.  It’s not your petty arguments.  It is the least of these who matter.  It is the children who no one else cares about.  It is the child who is left on a rock to die. That is who matters to me.  That is who we are called to welcome.”

Thank goodness our world is not like that anymore.  Thank goodness we welcome children and love them.  Surely Jesus would be proud.  Or would he…Just a few weeks ago, the refugee crisis became very real for people when a small child was found dead on the coast of Turkey.   Images of that dead child went viral.  There was video footage of someone carrying the limp body out of the water.  It was heartbreaking.  The media went crazy.  Why weren’t we doing more?  We knew that these rickety boats in dangerous waters were full of families and those families had children! Didn’t we know that?  And we did. It’s true. It took a dead child washed up on a beach to wake us up.  There were articles casting blame.  People debated who was and who was not doing enough. It’s human nature, when we should be talking and trying to work together, we bicker.  Unlike the disciples, we don’t talk about who is greater. We talk about who is worse. 

It is ironic.  2000 years ago a dead child would not have gotten anyone’s attention.  Today it does…but dead adults don’t seem to get our attention.  Today, anyone can be expendable. If Jesus lived today and found his disciples arguing about who is greater—I wonder who he would call to sit among them.  Who are the expendable ones in our midst? Who are those who we do not notice until they end up on our beaches?  There are many…so many.  That picture hanging on my wall of Jesus with the cute children would look different if it had those who were expendable today. 

It’s time to stop arguing and grand standing.  It does not matter who is greater.  It does not matter who is right.  All that matters is who is the least of these.  All that matters is what we can do to welcome them, to love them as Jesus loves them.  Jesus loves the little children….all the children of the world.  What we must remember is that we are all God’s children, no matter the age, no matter the color or creed.  We are all God’s children.  None of us are expendable. 

When we Die, We Rise: September 13, 2015

Year B, Pentecost 16                                                         
Mark 8:27-38                                                                         

            A couple of years ago, I remember seeing various media outlets proclaiming that Christmas was under attack.  They referenced things like nativity scenes being removed from public places and people feeling the need to say, “Happy Holidays!” instead of Merry Christmas.  I see the point. Stores are open on Christmas and fewer and fewer people have the luxury of taking that day off.  Many churches no longer have services on Christmas Day because so few people attend on Christmas Day. As a priest, I do not relish looking through Christmas cards to find that less than half of them have any explicit Christian message.  But to say it is under attack seems a bit of an exaggeration especially when you consider that Christians in other parts of the world are being beheaded for their faith.  They are being physically attacked.  Christianity is under attack in our world.  Christians in countries like Syria, Iraq, Libya, North Korea and the Sudan…those Christians are under attack.   In parts of Iraq Christians are given three options.  They can renounce their faith in Jesus Christ, pay a large tax or be killed.   No one in America gets killed for saying Merry Christmas.

            The readings for today are not easy readings.  They don’t go along well with Dixieland music, nor the positive emotion that we are trying to start the program year with.  Proverbs reprimands us for being foolish and not listening to wisdom.  James reminds us of how destructive our words can be.  In Mark, Jesus says, “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.”  I have seen a lot of Bible quotations on bumper stickers, greeting cards, signs, etc, but I am pretty sure that I have never seen that one. 

It’s not even one of those quotes that softens when contextualized.  Jesus said these words after he explained to the disciples that he would have to suffer and die.  When Peter challenged him on this, Jesus decided that they needed a little more teaching.  While they had acknowledged Jesus to be the Christ, they didn’t really understand.  That might be why Jesus told them not to tell anyone.  They still did not get it and Jesus did not want them sharing things that they did not understand.  It wasn’t just that they did not understand, they willfully misunderstood.  They were ready to proclaim Jesus as the Christ, but not the kind of Christ who suffered and died.  That was not the messiah they agreed to follow. They still had much to learn and in some ways, they didn’t comprehend it until Jesus died and was resurrected. 

            When it became clear to Jesus that they could not accept the truth that he would have to suffer and die, he provided them with very clear directions to become a disciple.  It is three phases: Deny yourself. Take up your cross.  Follow me.  It was after those instructions when he told them, “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.”  Deny yourself.  Take up your cross.  Follow me.  They were already following him, but they hadn’t quite gotten on board with the first two phases.  Jesus knew that.  He also knew that until they were ready for the first two phases, they would not truly be able to follow them.  We know the ending of Mark, we know that they did not follow him to his death. They did not help him carry the cross.  They were not there when he died.  They had abandoned him.

            We cannot blame them for that.  We know now what they did not know,  the end of the story.  We know that Jesus’ death was not the end.  We know that Jesus conquered death and was resurrected.  They did not know that.  They thought the story was over. So they did not follow him to the cross.  But after they witnessed the resurrection, it all clicked. They understood and they denied themselves, picked up the cross and followed him.  Most of the disciples were killed because of it, but not before they spread Jesus’ message far and wide, not before they built the Christian Church.

            One of the things I love about southern Virginia and particularly Hampton is that the church is supported.  It’s true, not nearly as many people come to church today as they did 30 years ago.  Business are open on Sundays.  There are sports that conflict with Sunday morning.  But…we can still pray in public.  When I was asked to pray for the pirate festival, I asked for some clarification as that was one of the big gaps in my seminary education…pirate prayers.   I asked if it was ok if I include Jesus in my prayers.  The response was, “of course.”  This would not be true in most places.  In fact, I don’t think most pirate festivals begin with prayer at all.  In addition, the churches here are still included in community events.  The public schools actively reach out to faith communities to be part of the schools.  There are many communities that are not like this.  In other communities, churches are no longer part of the prevailing culture.  People don’t necessarily deride church goers, but they don’t encourage it either.  While I love the fact that this community is still open to faith, that comfort also creates complacency.  We don’t know what it is to suffer for our faith and because of that we get irritated when we are in any way inconvenienced because of our faith.  Suffering and being inconvenienced are two very different things.

            In February the world was stunned when 21 Coptic Christians were killed on video.  They died proclaiming Jesus.  I wonder…I really wonder if I would have the strength to do that.  The actual definition of martyr is a witness.  It is someone who witnesses their faith.  We don’t have to die to be martyrs…very few in America do.  Yet we still fall short of what it is to be disciples and witnesses.  Every time we let something take priority over God, every time we put self over God, we fall short.   Every time we let go of an opportunity to share the love of Christ, we fall short.  I know I do.  I do every day. But there is good news in all of this.  Our faith is a faith that allows for…no demands new beginnings.  When we fall, we get up.  When we sin, we confess and we are reconciled.  When die, we rise.  We owe it to Jesus, but also to those Christians who cannot speak up, who cannot attend a church, who cannot look upon the cross—we owe it to them to speak, to be witnesses. 

            In the beginning of this sermon I lamented the fact that these readings didn’t really go with upbeat Dixieland.  But I decided to do some research on the song “When the Saints go Marching in” which is what this band will conclude with.

In New Orleans, the song is traditionally used as a funeral march at jazz funerals. When the band walks with the funeral procession on the way to the cemetery, the tune is actually dirge like.  But after committing the body to the ground (ashes to ashes, dust to dust), the band switches to the upbeat Dixieland style.[1]  This is very true to our faith.   Funerals are both a time of sorrow and a time of rejoicing.  As Christians when we fall, we get up.  When we sin, we confess and we are reconciled.  When die, we rise.  We celebrate that resurrection at funerals.  As long as we live our life following Jesus Christ, the dirge will never have the last word, or the last note.  Jesus Christ conquered death to ensure that the last word will always be Alleluia. 

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[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/When_the_Saints_Go_Marching_In

Be Opened: September 6, 2015

Year B, Pentecost 15                                                                         
James 2: 1-17 & Mark 7:24-37                                                           

 

            In 2003, the Bishop of Rhode Island took a sabbatical.  She decided to leave her home for a month; but she didn’t go far.  She went to the streets.  She became homeless for one month.  She said that because of her privileged position in life, she had lost touch.  She wanted to get to know people in a different way.  She only told her staff.   No one else knew where she was or what she was doing, nor did anyone recognize her despite the fact that she saw clergy of her diocese and even visited different Episcopal churches in that month.  When asked about her visits to Episcopal Churches she said that there were “Moments full of grace, and moments of deep disappointment.”[1]  The moments of grace were when people welcomed her and invited her to coffee hour and shared food without expecting payment.  The example she used as a moment of deep disappointment was when she was in a church that would not allow her to join them for breakfast because she did not have the $3 that they required.  I imagine that they had treated her much differently when she made her official Bishop’s visit. 

            Our second reading for today is from the Book of James.  James is an interesting book and we will be hearing parts of it for the next several weeks.  Unlike the letters of Paul, it is not addressed to a specific person or community.   However, he clearly had some experiences in a community or several communities that he found rather troublesome.  He spoke of a time when two people entered a worship space.  One was poor with dirty clothes.  The other was clearly well off.  The rich person was shown to a choice seat and the poor person was told to stand or even to sit at their feet.  James then challenged the community to consider whether this was the way that they showed love for their neighbor.  Hadn’t Jesus loved the poor?  Hadn’t Jesus consistently shown compassion for the people who were on the fringes of society? 

            We do not have to look very far for the answer to that question.  There are a multitude of examples in the Gospels of Jesus’ treatment of the poor.  He fed them.  He healed them.  He encouraged others to do the same.  He spoke passionately about the need to care for the poor.  Jesus lived among the poor because he was born to a poor family.  God chose a poor girl to be the mother of his child.  He could have chosen anyone, the daughter of an emperor, a high priest, a wealthy land owner.  But he chose someone who was poor and marginalized. 

Our Gospel reading for today does not explicitly talk about the poor, but certainly the marginalized.  First we hear of a woman who came to Jesus begging him to cure her daughter.  If a woman was approaching a man on her own in this time period, it was because she did not have a man to speak for her.  And if she did not have a man, it was unlikely that she had resources.  It was not impossible, but unlikely.  She was almost surely poor. The other person in today’s story was a deaf man.  In this time period people who had any kind of disability were outsiders.  Often it was assumed that they had sinned or their parents had sinned and that was why they were disabled.   So this man was most likely also among the marginalized. 

            Yet consider how Jesus cared for these people.  I have preached many sermons about the Syrophoenician woman and there are many theories about why Jesus initially refused her.  But the important point for today is that he heard her. He heard her desperation and her pain and he cured her daughter.  He didn’t even have to go to visit the daughter. He healed her in a moment. The second story is different.  He was face to face with the man who needed healing.  The man was deaf and had a speech impediment.  Jesus took the man aside, put his fingers in his ears, spat, touched his tongue, looked to heaven and then said, “Ephphatha.”  The first couple of times I read this I was struck by how different these two healings were.  The first was at a distance without even a word.  The second seemed to be so much more involved. There was spitting and hands in ears and a special word.  It seemed so elaborate for Jesus when you know he could have cured him just by thinking it.    

            Let us not forget that Jesus knows us.  Like the Good Shepherd knows the sheep, Jesus knows us. He knows what we need and how we need it. This man was deaf.  Jesus knew that for this to be a true healing of heart, body and mind, the man would need to see what Jesus was doing.  Jesus healed him in a way that he knew that he would understand.  That required that Jesus touch the ears that were not functioning and the tongue that was not responding.  Jesus wanted the man to know what was happening so that when his ears were suddenly functioning, he would understand it. He would be able to process it.  Miracles are well and good, but Jesus was more than a miracle worker who was interested in showing off his powers and moving on.  He wanted people to know that he loved them and he loved them in their joy and their pain, for their gifts and their needs.  That is how he continues to love us.

            In one of the interviews, the Bishop was asked if Episcopalians deserve our reputation for being the frozen chosen.  She responded, “We're not frozen. But for some reason we choose to see whom we want to see.”[2]  I don’t think the reason for our partial vision is that difficult to understand.  We’re not cold.  The people in this church care.  They care deeply.  I have heard it when people have approached me asking how they can help so and so.  I have seen it when people spend hours in the kitchen getting ready for our summer lunch program.  I have seen it in donations people make to the discretionary account that is specifically for the poor and needy.  I have seen it in more way that I can share now.  But at some point, we get overwhelmed and we acquire some degree of blindness or deafness for self-preservation.  Or we simply grow weary of trying to help and not seeing any change or any improvement.  I don’t know the answer.  I really don’t. 

But I think our readings for the day give us a starting place.  We can start by simply welcoming the people in our midst.  We have all kinds of people visit St. John’s.  But how do we treat them?  It’s easy to welcome the young family with the adorable child.  It’s easy to welcome the person who knows the same people we know.  But what about the homeless or just the people who look a little beat up by life?  Do we make sure that they are welcome?  Do we smile and look them in the eye instead of averting their gaze?  That is a place where we can begin. 

While Jesus knows us all, we don’t know everyone who walks into our assembly.   When we don’t know someone, we make judgments, often solely based on how they look.  That is human nature.  It’s going to happen and we can’t beat ourselves up over that.  But after that initial judgment, we can try to consciously move past that judgment.  We can remind ourselves that there is one thing we know about this person. Jesus loves them, just as much as he loves us.  Jesus loves them and he wants us to see them and to hear them, just as he sees and listens to each one of us.  We are all blind and deaf in some way.  There is a cure and that cure starts with a word.  After Jesus spat and stuck his fingers in the man’s ears, touched his tongue and looked toward heaven, he said, “Ephphatha.”  Be opened.  He did not say that for the deaf man.  He said it for us.  Open your heart, open your mind, open your eyes and open your ears.  Be opened.

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[1] http://archive.episcopalchurch.org/3577_19835_ENG_HTM.htm

[2] http://archive.episcopalchurch.org/3577_19835_ENG_HTM.htm