by Susan Peyton
This sermon is based on Mark 9:30-37. An audio version of this sermon is available here.
One of the comforting things about the Gospel stories over the last few weeks, is how human the disciples were. Jesus continually has to explain things, lead them on their journey, and probably wonder if they would ever get what he was saying. Jesus did not pick the wisest men he could find, but rather, the ordinary, the common man. All of us, in fact. And I’ll bet most of us here have been a part of this story from Mark. Not literally what he’s trying to teach them, but rather, the human interaction. Scene one, happens in thousands of Math classrooms every single day of school. Mrs Gross finishes explaining the problems for calculus homework. Asks if there are any questions, and no one responds. Again she says, are you sure there are no questions? Silence. On the way out of class, Susan says to Anne, “I have no clue what she was talking about, so I’ll call you tonight, okay?” And Anne says, “uh oh, I thought you knew what she was talking about.” There may be some good kids in the class, but no one was wise enough, or self confident enough to say, this makes no sense. Something very simple, but many times we don’t want to admit we have no clue. We are too proud, too ashamed, too frustrated to ask the questions. That’s why I love it when I watch children, who simply say, “what is your name?”. Just ask. And just as calculus may be completely foreign to many people, the parables and teachings of Jesus are sometimes ones that take a little longer to peel the layers away. I also hope the disciples finally learned to ask questions, or at least when they set off on their own journeys, they learned to ask directions.
And then there’s the second part of the story. Get to Capernaum, Jesus wouldn’t let them stop in Galilee, so they finally get to their destination. And Jesus looks around at them, and says, “Okay, so what were you arguing about?” And a few of the guys were kind of hiding behind the others, and scuffling their sandals in the dirt. “Um, nothing.” And Jesus sits down and tells the disciples to gather around him. And he says again, “Okay, it sounded like some of you were arguing on the way here, what was that about?” And he finally hears that each one thought they were the greatest. My sister Anne and I loved to play with Mom, and we would alternate between saying she loved me best, or loved Anne best. Even though Mom knew we were just fussing with her, she would always say, I love each of you the same. It was important for us to know that Mom didn’t play favorites. Sometimes one of us might need more help, or tried her patience too much, but she made sure we knew her love was the same for each of us. Likewise, Jesus gets frustrated with the disciples. They were human after all, and would compare themselves. You know, they’d start thinking back to what Jesus had said about each one, and who got to sit next to him at dinner. And then instead of saying who he liked best, Jesus says the first must be last and should wait on everyone else. Don’t you wonder if they then start arguing about who had carried the heaviest bundle, or helped the most with crowd control?
Doug and I have had several occasions to witness everyone trying to be first in the last few days. Doug hadn’t been to Wrigley Field, so we went to Chicago to see a few Cubs’ games. And it started at the airport. Everyone crowding in to be first, the same at the baseball games. We all had tickets with our seat numbers. It isn’t like anyone else will get our seat. Now I will say that Friday they were giving out free Cubs tshirts, so everyone was scrambling to get into the stadium first. But they were giving out 20,000 tshirts and their crowd is usually only 25,000, so most people would get a tshirt!
And at work lately, it seems to be a perverse badge of honor to work the most hours. Really? I’ve caught myself and realized how destructive this thinking is. And how simple minded. You can’t work hard if you are exhausted. Instead I can only compare myself…to me. Am I remembering to look for the insignificant, the lonely, the ones in the corner? Do I have the sense to welcome those who are harder to love? And what if sometimes, I’m the one who is harder to love? James speaks of wisdom, giving it characteristics that resemble other passages about love. Wisdom to know yourself, wisdom to know to ask the question, not worry what others think of you for revealing that you don’t know. Wisdom is pure, peaceable and gentle. And it starts within us.
I’m taking a Dale Carnegie class for work. I had always presumed that Dale Carnegie classes were all about public speaking, so tried to get out of it. That didn’t work. But, I’ve found out two of the other exercises are setting personal goals, and working on stress. Frankly I can use all the help I can get on how to eliminate stress. There are sayings from his book How to win friends and influence people. Two principles really struck me: ‘Don’t criticize, condemn or complain.’ And ‘fill your mind with thoughts of peace, courage, health and hope.’ Both of them speak to being wise, and caring about everyone else in your community. Also, avoiding conflicts by following both of those principles. We also were to focus on one of the principles, so I’ve been trying to stop criticizing, condemning or complaining. It’s not going so well. Perhaps if Doug and I spent a week apart, I’d do a little better on the “no criticizing” part. Why is it so much easier to dwell on the negative instead of the positive? Do we pray for ourselves or for others? For our personal gain, or for the good of all? Do I really need a phone that is smarter than I am? And why do people scream at TVs, computers and cars or tractor trailers on the interstate? It’s hard enough to work with people, what do folks think the TV is going to do, answer you back?
So this week, I will try not to criticize, condemn or complain. I’ll look for the people who are the forgotten. And I’ll try not to be first. Amen.
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