The little ones: Sept 28, 2024

 Year B, Pentecost 19                                                 Mark 9:38-50                                                                             

                There is nothing like a recommendation to cut a limb off to really start your morning right.   ^‘”If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off…if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off… if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell…”  I think most of us can accept that Jesus doesn’t actually want us to remove limbs and other parts of our bodies.  Speaking hyperbolically was a common form of rhetoric at the time and still is in many ways. However, that doesn’t mean we ignore what Jesus said or dismiss it. Jesus was trying to shock people. He thought this was important enough that he need to scare people into listening.

            Right before he recommended removing limbs, he said, “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea.”  Millstones are big.  At the time, they would have weighed over 3,000 pounds.   This is another example of hyperbole because there is no way someone could put that around their neck and then somehow be thrown into the sea.  But you get the picture. Jesus was saying that it would be better to die than put a stumbling block in front of one of these little ones.              

            Who are the little ones that Jesus is talking about? It’s a good time to consider the context. Right before our text for today, Jesus caught the disciples arguing about who was greatest.  He had just told them he was going to suffer and die. Instead of asking him questions to gain understanding, they simply distracted themselves by arguing about who was better.  Jesus responded by saying, “Whoever wants to be first of all must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a child in his arms and said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me…” 

            How did the disciples respond…they once again got competitive because someone else was casting out demons in Jesus’ name and this person wasn’t one of the chosen 12.  They wanted Jesus to reprimand that person who was doing good in his name.  Of course Jesus refused and tried to bring them back to what was literally sitting in front of them---a child.  Remember, that was what Jesus was talking about before they changed the subject.  He brought them back from competition, toward a vulnerable child. When he said little ones, he might have been talking about children, or people who might be new to the faith, or people who were vulnerable in some way.  Jesus was always trying to protect and care for the ones who were often ignored.

It might seem odd to us now that Jesus would be especially concerned about children. Everyone loves seeing cute children, especially if they are well behaved and quiet.  The way we treat children in our culture or social circles today is not how all people perceive or treat children.  We are accustomed to seeing our children doted on and loved.  We expect them to have family looking after them.  We are fortunate if that is what we are accustomed to witnessing, but it is certainly not the norm.  It is really only in modern history that children had rights, let alone the exalted place they currently hold in our culture. 

            In the time that Jesus was living in, children were the least of these.  They had no rights.  The mortality rate was high and people could not assume their child would live to be an adult.  Women had lots of children to ensure that at least some would live to carry on the family name and tradition.  Today, if there was a food scarcity, the children would be fed first. In Jesus’, they would have been fed last, if fed at all.  Not only were they not highly regarded, they were a nuisance.  They had to be taken care and could not contribute much to the family.  Therefore when Jesus told his disciples, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me…” ---That would have been shocking.  It was not sweet and sentimental.  It was shocking because Jesus was saying that welcoming this child was the same as welcoming him. 

            Notice that Jesus warns them about putting a stumbling block in front of the little ones who believe in him. From this description, we can see he’s focusing on believers, Christians. He is talking to the disciples who will be the ones teaching and leading these new believers when he is gone. This doesn’t mean that Jesus never talked about the importance of caring for all people---he did.  But right here, in this conversation with his disciples, he’s focusing on those who believe in him.

            Who are the little ones today? Obviously, actual children would still be included as “little ones.”  They have more rights than they once had, but are still incredibly vulnerable.  We have seen that in these horrific school shootings. But what about people who are simply new to the faith…or people who have left the faith because they have been deeply wounded by the misuse of Christianity? We need look no further than our LGBTQ+ community to see people who have been incredibly wounded by Christians—especially Christians in leadership. 

Now, you might say, well that’s not us.  That’s those other Christians. Sometimes, but the Episcopal Church has not always been as welcoming as we are now and there are still many Episcopal Churches where the LGBTQ+ community is not welcome.  We have also wounded the African American community with our complicity in slavery and then segregation and frankly, too many things to name.   These “little ones” are everywhere and they still need support rather than stumbling blocks.      

            While this language that Jesus uses is violent and unsettling, it shows us how much Jesus cared about the “little ones” then and now.  He wanted his disciples, the leaders of his future church to look out for those who needed protecting.  And we have failed Jesus again and again in protecting these little ones.  I could give you more examples, but you get the idea. 

            I am not saying that I love this language that Jesus uses, but it does show us how fervently he cared for God’s children—the vulnerable, the oppressed, those on the margins who have been kept out intentionally or by our inattention.  It’s a privilege to serve a God who cares for the least of these, who makes them a priority over and over again.  Jesus was warning against putting up stumbling  blocks, but I think we can do more than  just not trip people.  We can be companions for these little ones.  We can’t just say “all are welcome.”  That is not enough. Instead, we need to find concrete ways to welcome those who Jesus would consider the “little ones.”  Because in welcoming them, we are welcoming Jesus.

 

The Church We Need: Feb. 14, 2021

Last Sunday of Epiphany, Year B                            2 Kings 2:1-12                                                                           

           One of the many ways that this pandemic has affected us is that it has robbed us of the rituals surrounding transitions: graduations, marriages, baptisms, and funerals—to name a few.  The transitions have still happened, but we have not been able to mark them in the same way.  There have been online graduations, zoom weddings, small baptisms celebrated outside, and graveside services, but it’s not what most of us are accustomed to. I am sure the ultra-introverted among us are relieved to avoid some of these things, but it’s hard to imagine that anyone would want to miss all of these things.

While we associate joy with events like marriage and graduation.  They are still emotionally charged.  Without the tradition, without the people to acknowledge and celebrate that transition, it’s hard to really process it.  We all know change is hard.  We have had far too much change and not nearly enough ways to honor or acknowledge those changes.  And of course, there has been a tremendous amount of death, and too few ways to grieve.  Death and mourning is hard enough…not being surrounded by family, not having a funeral or even a burial is a burden no one should have to bear. 

            Both the Old Testament reading and the Gospel reading are stories of transition and transformation. We usually focus on the Gospel readings for this Sunday, but this year, it was the Old Testament reading that spoke to me.  It is a familiar one in some ways.  We have all heard the story of Elijah being taken up to heaven in fiery  chariot.  It’s evocative and kind of exciting, but I found that was pretty much all I remembered about the story and that is one of the least important parts.

            This is a story of two great prophets: Elijah and his successor Elisha.  We know from the very beginning that God is about to take Elijah into heaven.  Elijah knew it.  Elisha knew it.  Even the band of prophets who were with them knew it.  Despite that, Elisha was still having a hard time accepting Elijah’s departure, and who can blame him—he was about to lose his mentor and friend?   Over the course of our reading, Elijah was going on a rather elaborate and circuitous journey.  He was kind of walking in a circle, but it was a very deliberate circle where he stopped at historic and symbolic places. 

On three different occasions, he asked Elisha to stay and not follow him.  On every one of those occasions, Elisha responded, “As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” It’s not clear why Elijah discouraged Elisha from following him.  What is clear is that Elisha was not letting go.  As long as Elijah was living, he would be by his side.  On the one hand it’s a beautiful tribute to his love for Elijah, but it also seems like he was having a hard time letting go.  It’s almost as if he thought, if I never leave him alone, maybe he will have to stay.  I think many of us can resonate with that experience—knowing it’s time to say goodbye but doing everything in our power to delay it. 

            Finally Elijah asked Elisha if there is anything he can do for him before he is taken.  Elisha asked for a double share of his spirit.  The double share is a reference to what the oldest son would receive upon the death of his father.  The oldest son would receive a double share of the inheritance.  Elisha didn’t want money or land.  He wanted Elijah’s spirit.  Elijah was a great prophet, one of the greatest leaders and miracle workers of the Bible, but he was humble enough to know that this spirit was not his to give. It was God’s spirit that allowed him to accomplish the things he had accomplished.  So Elijah told Elisha, that if Elisha saw him taken into heaven, then he would know he had it.

            Thankfully, Elisha did witness the awe inspiring event, one that would never be repeated.  Witnessing that gave him two important things. It gave him God’s spirit which Elijah had carried.  It also gave him the opportunity to witness a transition that few of us see.  It gave him the kind of closure that we all crave but rarely receive. That didn’t mean he wasn’t sad or overcome with grief.  He was.  But he was also emboldened to take something on that would require tremendous strength, courage and faith.

            It wasn’t just Elijah’s transition that Elisha witnessed, it was his own. This event also marked a transition for all of Israel. They were moving into a new phase with a new and different leader.   Soon after Elisha tore his garments in two and grieved, he picked up the mantle that Elijah had left.  In doing so, he acknowledged God’s spirit in him.  Before, he was holding on to Elijah and the past.  But now, he could carry on what Elijah had started.

            If I had more time to go through all the symbols within this story, you would see that it is steeped in ritual, tradition and community.  God knows those are important things to have.  Change must happen, but God gives us tools to navigate these endless changes.  As the church, we try to provide those same tools, in the form of traditions and ritual.  And the secular world does it as well, not as much or as often as the church, but they do.  We have been deprived of these rituals and traditions over the last year.  Even those of us who have been fortunate enough to remain healthy and keep our jobs and/or retirement accounts—feel the loss of all that we have missed.  And we need to acknowledge that loss and honor it.  But it will take time and sadly, we aren’t even at the end of the tunnel yet.  We are closer.  We can see it. But we can’t yet hold on tight enough to pull ourselves out. 

            As a church, we should start considering how we can help people through the transitions to come while also acknowledging all that has been lost.  We are a church steeped in tradition and ritual.  My friends, The Episcopal Church is made for this.  The world needs the church even more than it did before the pandemic started.  This week, we have one of our most beloved traditions—Ash Wednesday.  Normally, it seems an odd thing to do, put ashes on our foreheads and acknowledge our mortality.  “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” 

This year it almost seems cruel to remind people of that.  Haven’t we seen enough reminders of our mortality over the last year? We have, but that’s not all Ash Wednesday is about. In putting the sign of the cross on our forehead, we also acknowledge that we are God’s beloved children who have been given the gift of eternal life.  We are dust, but we are so much more.  In our rush to get back to “normal” life, let’s not forget to honor all that has transpired.  We will need God’s strength and spirit as we come out of our quarantined lives---as we break out of these cocoons we have built.  Because there will be times we will want to crawl  back into those cocoons, because we have found safety there.  We can’t.  We have to grow from this experience or we will never recover.   So let’s go back to those rituals and traditions that have allowed us to experience life fully in the context of our church community.  But let’s share what we have with the world so we can help more people.  We might just need the double share of God’s spirit so we can change what needs to be change, challenge what needs to be challenged and love those beloved children of God who need our love. 

The Challenge Facing the Church: Feb. 25, 2018

Year B, Lent 2                                                    
Mark 8:31-38                                                

            I hear a lot about the church of the 1950’s and 60’s. The church was full and everyone attended every Sunday.  Church mattered.  Businesses were closed.  Nothing else was happening on Sundays.  You came to church because that was the place to be.  If you were a community leader, a government official, a business owner, anyone in leadership, you went to church. If you did not, you were judged accordingly.  Church attendance hit an unprecedented high in the 1950’s.  Some people have called that period the 3^rd Great Awakening. 

Since then church membership has been on a steady decline.  Steady might not be the right word---it was on a gradual decline and has plummeted in the last 20 years. Sometimes, I wish that I had been born decades earlier and could have served in a church that prospered with little effort.  There was no need for evangelism or marketing.  You opened the door and people came in (of course, I would not have been able to be ordained as they did not start ordaining women until the end of the 1970s—but that’s not the point.)  It seems odd to be nostalgic for a time I did not live in; yet I find myself longing for that experience of the 1950’s church. 

            A lot of people who remember the church of the 1950s and 1960s assume that it was always like that. The reality is that the church and the Christian faith have gone through many periods of growth and decline.  After both the American Revolution and the Civil War, the Episcopal Church was near collapse.  Even St. John’s barely survived those difficult times.   While there have been tumultuous times in the last 300 years, it was probably the first 300 years of the Christian Church that were the most challenging.  Being a Christian was a dangerous thing to be as Christians were openly persecuted. They were tortured or killed for admitting their faith. 

            It should not come as a surprise that the Christian faith struggled to gain a foothold for several centuries. Our God died on a cross.  He was killed by the people who were in power. Who wants to join a faith community that worships the losing side, the guy who was killed?  Today, the cross is not shameful, nor is a crucified Messiah.  Now the cross is a symbol of our faith, a faith that has survived and thrived for over 2000 years.  However, for the first 200 years of the church the cross was not a welcome symbol.  There was shame associated with that kind of death. Jesus was not the only person crucified.  Criminals were crucified by the thousands in that time. 

            If it was difficult to accept a crucified Messiah after his death and resurrection, imagine what it must have been for the disciples to hear Jesus talk about his impending death.  The disciples had come to know Jesus in a specific way.  They had seen all the miracles he performed, the people he had healed, the huge crowds who had followed him. They had seen him preach to masses and beat even the greatest theologians and church leaders in arguments. While not all agreed with him, all recognized his power and authority. 

Shortly before our reading for today, Jesus asked the disciples who people thought he was.  The disciples answered that some thought that he was one of the prophets, or John the Baptizer come back to life, or even Elijah, the great Hebrew prophet who had died and was expected to return right before the arrival of the Messiah.  So far, no one was right. Then he asked who they thought he was.  They knew him best.  If anyone knew, they should know. Peter spoke up and said, “You are the Messiah.” Finally, they were getting it.  These disciples finally saw Jesus for who he truly was. 

            Immediately after this revelation, Jesus started sharing that he would have to undergo great suffering, be rejected, be killed and then rise again.  Perhaps he thought that they were ready to hear this now that they understood who he was.  But how could knowing he was the Messiah possibly prepare them for this?  Messiahs are not rejected by humans and they certainly don’t suffer.  They definitely don’t get killed. It’s madness. Peter rebuked him.  We don’t know exactly what he said when he rebuked him, but it was probably something like, “Don’t talk like that!  Chin up.  You are the Messiah. You are not going to suffer and die.”  Peter probably thought he was being supportive.

            Jesus did not like what Peter had to say because he called him Satan and told him to get behind him. He then said, “For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”  If I had been Peter, this would have confused me a little.  If anyone was focusing on human things, it was Jesus.  Humans are rejected.  Humans suffer.  Humans are killed. Messiahs shouldn’t experience those human things.  It would seem that Jesus had some funny ideas on what it was to be a Messiah.

Then Jesus made it worse because he told the disciples and the assembled crowd that they too would have to suffer if they wanted to be his followers. Not only will Jesus have to carry the cross, but all his followers will have to take up their cross.  I bet Jesus did not gain any followers that day.  The disciples stuck around, partially because they were convinced he wasn’t serious about this whole suffering thing. He had to explain it to them two more times and they acted confused each time, as if this was the first time they were hearing it.

            Who can blame them?  Not only did it not make sense, it was an incredibly difficult teaching. The cross was a form of torture.  None of these men had easy lives. They were Jews living under Roman occupation.  While Jesus was popular with many, the religious authorities did not like him. The disciples knew this and this must have made them a little anxious.  They knew what it was to suffer.  But death on a cross? Where is the victory?  Where is the triumph?

            As people who know what it is to celebrate Easter, we know what the victory is.  We know that Jesus conquered death.  But we also know that most of the disciples were killed eventually, some is rather horrific ways. There are still people being killed today just for being Christians.  And on a much less violent note, we in the Episcopal Church know what it is to be part of a church that is not considered successful, not in human terms. 

            I entered seminary in 2001. In those first 5 years of the millennium, church attendance and membership moved from a gradual decline to a nosedive.  When I decided to pursue ordination in 2004, someone asked me, “Why would you want to be ordained when the church is dying? It’s a sinking ship.”  At the time, I thought that was ridiculous.  The church would turn around.  This was just a blip. But it has not turned around (and I am hoping this great decline has no direct correlation with the fact that I was ordained near the beginning of it!)

Before we all get too depressed, I would like to suggest something. Instead of worrying about the decline and bemoaning the loss of the status of the church, perhaps we can look at it from another perspective. Like the disciples, Jesus asks us not merely to look at the human things, but the divine as well.  It is human to suffer and die.  We can all agree on that. According to Jesus, it is divine to suffer and die.  But it is also divine to rise again. 

It is not easy to be the church in today’s world.  We have to work harder and to some extent we have to suffer a little as well.  However, if we believe this is God’s church, then suffering and death is only part of the story.  The final part is resurrection.  It is new life.  We assume that if the church is suffering it’s because something is wrong.  Perhaps we can see it as part of what it is to be a disciple; and instead of looking at it as suffering, we could look at it as living into a challenge. That is not just true for the church but for every individual life.  Everyone faces challenges in life---some more than others.  We don’t give up when we face challenges, we find ways to rise again.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus told Peter, “Now I say to you that you are Peter (which means 'rock'), and upon this rock I will build my church, and all the powers of hell will not conquer it.”  Despite Peter’s faults, Jesus called him the rock. The church was built on a flawed human and that gives me hope, because Jesus knew he was flawed and he still chose him to be the rock.  Even though the church was built on a flawed human, this church, our church was built by Jesus.  The powers of hell will not conquer it.