Sermon for Oct. 17, 2021
Mark 10:35-45
This is one of those Gospel readings that
make more sense if you know what’s come just before it. In this case, Jesus has just told his friends,
for the third time, what’s waiting for him in Jerusalem at the hands of the
religious leaders: “[T]hey will condemn
him to death; then they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill
him.” There’s no subtlety to the message. But, Jesus says, after three days, “he will
rise again” (8:34).
Apparently, James and John only heard the
last part of that – the rising-again part – because, in the next breath, they
ask Jesus for positions of supreme honor once he’s come into his glory. Jesus can’t believe it. “Really?
That’s what you took away from what I said?” Listen, he tells them: Power and glory are
not where this road is heading. Not even
Jesus is angling for accolades. In fact,
he’s been doing everything he can so show his friends that the heart of God
gives itself away. The way things work
in our world, the “great ones” act like tyrants, conflating power with
self-interest (10:42). The reign and rule
of God goes the other way. “[W]hoever wishes
to be great among you must be your servant,” Jesus says, “and whoever wishes to
be first among you must be slave of all” (10:44) For, as we heard from St. Francis a few weeks
ago, the way of Christ is not to be served but to serve.
If we look into our own hearts, some of us
may find ourselves there with James and John, following Jesus for the glory it
promises – maybe heavenly glory, maybe the glory of recognition and praise for
our good works in the here and now. If that’s
what your self-examination reveals, you may need a little foot-washing therapy,
the chance to serve someone with no one watching and offer it to God, as a
token of a changed heart.
But my guess is that most of us err on the
other side. Many of us do a fair amount
of serving, in the public and private facets of our lives. Maybe you take care of kids. Maybe you care for a spouse or a family member. Maybe you pray for people who need healing;
or maybe you serve in worship; or maybe you call people on their
birthdays. Maybe you serve the community
in a free clinic, or a food pantry, or a boardroom. You’re not seeking glory or even accolades;
in fact, attention is the last thing you want. You’re just trying to do what Jesus asks.
For servants like these, I think the past
20 months have been especially tough. COVID
hasn’t been easy for anyone; but for those wired to give of themselves, the
pandemic has meant sacrifice on top of service. We were asked to keep our distance from each
other. We’re asked to wear masks to
protect others. For some of us, our work
takes us out on the front lines and put us at risk. In a community like the church, there are
fewer people around in person, so the people who are already busy end up
getting asked to do “one more thing.” Pretty
quickly, it can become one thing too many.
Then there’s the stress of living in a time
when civility and respect seem like quaint memories from a bygone age. Disrespect knows no political or cultural
boundaries, but I was struck by a story a parishioner told me last week. He was out walking, and a runner came toward
him wearing a t-shirt proclaiming, “If you’re a Republican, you’re an idiot.” Even the most open-hearted among us might find
it challenging to love neighbors like that.
And still, Jesus comes to us in today’s
reading and tells us that, in his kingdom, we find greatness in humility and blessing
in service. Really, Lord? You want me to love one more jerk? You want me to take on one more thing?
Today, we’re beginning our annual season
of stewardship. And frankly, in a time
of divisiveness and pandemic, the call to stewardship could be a tough
sell. After all, for many of us, when we
hear the word “stewardship,” and certainly when we hear “pledge campaign,” we
hear the word “give.” And maybe we’re
worn a bit too slick to hear that well.
But I want to give you three reasons not to tune out just yet.
The first reason is captured in the theme
of this year’s stewardship season – “Pass the Peace.” We’re highlighting ways that
members of this church family step outside themselves to serve others and share
God’s love. It happens in church
ministries and in day-to-day life. We pass the peace when we pray for each other. We pass the peace when we make a joyful noise
unto the Lord. We pass the peace when we
serve someone a snack after church. We
pass the peace when we shop with a family at Banneker Elementary. We pass the peace when we serve hungry people
downtown. We pass the peace when we pray
for healing in our city or sponsor a refugee family. We pass the peace when we listen and learn
from someone with whom we disagree.
And I hope you’ll share how you do
it. This stewardship season, we’re
asking you to share photos or videos representing how you pass God’s peace to
others. You can post them on social media,
or send them to us by email, or send them by text – see the bulletin for more information
about how to do that – and then we’ll share examples with you as the
stewardship season goes on. Plus, as
part of the pledge campaign this year, we’ll be inviting you to make a pledge
of just one way you’ll pass God’s peace in the coming year.
Why are we doing this? Because passing the peace is how we help God’s
kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven.
It’s how we heal this world God asks us to love. It’s how we live no longer for ourselves alone
but for him who died for us and rose again (2 Cor 5:15; BCP 379)
Here's the second reason not to tune out this
call to pass the peace: It’s really not
about doing more. It’s about presenting
what you do – even a single act – as a thank offering to God – as an act of
prayer. Like I said, for most of us,
serving is not a foreign concept. But we
may not have much experience with sanctifying our service in prayer. When you hear the church asking you to serve,
it may seem like the message is that the more you do, the more stars you’ll
earn in your heavenly crown. I had a
seminary professor who warned about church becoming “the helping Olympics,” where
we give gold medals to the superstars of altruism. But we don’t earn our way into eternal life; instead,
that’s God’s gift to us when we give our hearts to God. So, instead of asking you to do one more
thing, I’m asking you to consecrate what you do. Raise up even one act for others as a gift
you’ll offer to the One who’s given you everything you have. Don’t worry about doing more. Make what you do sacred.
And here’s the third reason to take
seriously this call to pass the peace: The
person you’ll bless most through your sacred service is yourself. The way God has designed us, our spiritual
DNA comes with a counterintuitive bit of wiring that brings us the greatest joy
when we give ourselves away. When we
follow Jesus’ call and pass the peace to others, the love we give returns to us
tenfold.
But don’t just take it from me. Over the next six Sundays, you’ll hear
members of our parish family tell their own stories of how they’ve been blessed
by serving others. First up is parishioner Bruce Long – and I hope you’ll keep
coming back for more.
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