Pentecost 18, 2024-B: Open, expectant, and certain

 Proper 20 Lectionary: Jeremiah 11:18-20; Psalm 54 ; James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37 

En el nombre del Dios: creador, redentor y santificador. Amen. 

In the name of God: Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Amen.

If God is love and creator of all that is, then who or what in all of creation is not of God? How then, do we understand the ills of the world: pain, sickness, loneliness, hunger, poverty, abuse, oppression, war, betrayal? Are those of God too? The platitude, “everything happens for a reason” is neither helpful nor faithful.

We don’t know why some things happen because we can’t see the plan of God in its fullness. There are times bad things happen - sometimes, but not always - because someone acted outside of the divine plan of love. The consequence of their action has nothing to do with God, at least until God’s redemption has interceded – and we can never see that coming. It almost always happens in a way and at a time we just can’t imagine.

This is what the disciples are struggling to comprehend as Jesus teaches them in our gospel today. The timing of this lesson from Jesus is important. Jesus and the disciples are back in Capernaum, Jesus’s hometown.

Jesus has completed the last of his healing ministry and is now focusing on preparing the disciples for his entry into Jerusalem where he will be betrayed, abused, and ultimately killed. This is the second of three times Jesus tells his disciples about the path that lies ahead of them.

Jesus said, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands – a wrong thing - and they will kill him – a terrible thing - and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” Wait – what? Mark tells us they didn’t understand what Jesus was saying and they were afraid to ask him about it.

Jesus is teaching the disciples to wait in faith and keep themselves open, expectant, and certain of God’s loving plan even when terrible or wrong things start to happen. The last time Jesus taught this lesson, you’ll remember that Peter didn’t want to hear it. ‘No Lord. May that never happen.’ Jesus pushed back at Peter saying, “Get behind me Satan.” ‘Don’t distract me, don’t tempt me away from the path of redeeming love being laid by God.

How can this path be of God? The disciples simply can’t see how Jesus’ betrayal and death can be part of God’s plan of love. This question comes from a worldly point of view.

In our lives, as time unfolds in the earthly realm, the heavenly perspective often eludes us. At the same time, we are steeped in the values of the world and they become ours. Despite our best efforts, we are lured into living as if hierarchy is a given, as if arrogance is really confidence, and selfish schemes are just good business, as if hoarding money and possessions is a greatness to celebrate, along with the power and influence they afford the hoarder.

This is what distracted the disciples as they traveled back to their hometown. They were arguing about who among them was the greatest. Being great from a worldly perspective is a human desire, not a heavenly one, so as Jesus’ earthly story begins to draw toward its conclusion, he teaches the disciples one of the most important lessons he has to give them.

When they settled in for the night, Jesus asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” They were busted and they knew it. But Jesus, as patient and loving as ever, sat down and called the disciples to him. When a rabbi does that, it means class is in session.

‘Do you want to be great?’ Jesus asked. Then he turned all their expectations upside down – again. Jesus had a way of doing this. The greatest, he said, are not first, but last. The greatest must be servant of all.

To demonstrate his point, Jesus took a little child, and holding that child in a loving embrace, he explained that to the world, this child is helpless, powerless, has little to offer, and no clout whatsoever. But to heaven, this child is the face of redemption because: whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me, welcomes not just me but also the one who sent me.

In other words, when we connect with the helpless, the powerless, the weak, the poor, and the excluded, we connect with God. They are the means by which we are made co-creators of love and partners in the continuing work of redemption. And the consequences of our actions echo through time and place, like a pebble that is dropped into still water. As one of my favorite singer-songwriters, Dar Williams, said: “Every time you opt into kindness/ make one connection/ [that] used to divide us/ it echoes all over the world.” (“Echoes” by Dar Williams, My Better Self album)

The symbolism Jesus employed in this demonstration is powerful. A child is open, trusting, and relies on her parent to know how to take care of what she needs and to be ready to do it. A child offers his love freely. He knows he’s part of a family and isn’t expected to ‘go it alone.’ A child knows they don’t know everything and trusts that their adults know a lot more than they do – important things, things necessary for their survival and contentment. So, they trust their adults to guide them, to keep them safe, and bring them home, even when the path before them looks terrible, dangerous, and impossible to pass.

As followers of Christ, you and I are walking on a path of redeeming love that is laid out for us - moment by moment - by God. This path often takes unexpected turns but, we are in the hands of God who always leads us home. We can’t get lost.

A tell-tale sign that we have taken ourselves off the path of love is that conflicts and disputes arise. When that happens, the only faithful response is to “submit to God” as James says in his letter, to draw near to God who will draw near to us and restore our wisdom, our peace, and our feet on the path of love.

Another sign of being off the path of love is anxiety. As we prayed in our Collect, “Grant us, Lord, not to be anxious about earthly things, but to love and hold fast to those things that are eternal; and what is eternal and eternally true for us is Jesus, who calls us to serve in his name.

What I love about this gospel story is the way Jesus acted so gently with his disciples who didn’t get it, were afraid to ask about it, and were about to have to deal with it without him. I’m sure he knew how hard it was for his followers to shift from their expectation of Messiah to Jesus’ embodiment of it; from their life-long goal of taking the seat of power to Jesus’ command to be last of all.

It’s hard to shift from the habits of our thinking, especially when the world affirms them so strongly. We won’t always get it right or quickly, but Jesus will stick with us, gently showing us the way to go because he trusts us to go forward as faithfully as we can, moment to moment. He trusts us to be his hands and hearts in the world today, serving and healing in his name. It is our privilege and our responsibility to do so.

I close with the prayer written by the founder of Centering Prayer, Trappist monk, Thomas Merton. Let us pray. 

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does, in fact, please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, I will trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen.