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Pentecost XVI, Proper 20(B)
September 20, 2009 Proverbs 31:10-31; Psalm 1; James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37 Let us pray. God of creation, you have entrusted us with the care of your creation. Help us take our responsibility seriously, as we seek ways to ensure a more equitable distribution of resources and see that all your children have safe water to drink, food to eat and clean air to breathe. Lord, in your mercy, we ask that you hear our prayer. Amen. Most people assume that dancers, singers, actors and artists all want one thing: Fame. For those of you who remember it, the 1980 Oscar-winning movie Fame followed a group of talented students through four years at the New York City High School for the Performing Arts. This coming Friday, a new version of this film is being released starring Debbie Allen, Kelsey Grammer and Bebe Neuwirth. You might remember that Debbie Allen played a dance instructor in the original movie, but now, after almost 30 years, she has been cast as the school’s principal. For those of you who are not familiar with the story line, at this performing arts high school, the competitive environment is incredibly hot, and each student’s talents, passions and determination are put to the test. In addition, the students face all the other struggles that all high school students face – schoolwork, friendships, romances and the rocky road of self-discovery. This film’s drama lies in its depiction of teenagers growing up as they discover whether they have the talent and discipline to become true stars. One of the many songs from the movie includes these lyrics: I sing the body electric; I celebrate the me yet to come, I toast to my own reunion when I become one with the sun. And I’ll look back on Venus, I’ll look back on Mars, and I’ll burn with the fire of 10 million stars; That’s the dream of each of these young people: To become one with the sun, to burn brightly in the heavens, to become a star. Some achieve this goal, of course, and go on to great artistic success. But most blow up, burn out or just fade away. “Everybody else here is colorful or eccentric or charismatic,” laments one student, “and I’m perfectly normal.” Being normal isn’t necessarily an advantage when your goal is to achieve fame. You have to possess enormous talent and a burning desire to become one with the sun. Jesus encounters this same longing for glory when, according to Mark’s 9th chapter, he is passing through the region of Galilee with his disciples. He doesn’t feel it himself, but he sees it in his followers. Jesus is avoiding the spotlight in a way that would be unthinkable to the students of the New York City High School of Performing Arts; or I suspect Martha’s Vineyard Regional High School, or the Grace Church Confirmation Class for that matter. Instead of seeking attention, Jesus lies low, using his undercover time to teach his disciples that “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again” (Mark 9:31). The disciples don’t get it. They don’t understand what Jesus is saying, and they’re afraid to ask him (v. 32). This talk of betrayal and death and rising again doesn’t fit their idea of a good career plan. It is important for us to remember that this chapter of Mark begins with the transfiguration event, that glorious mountaintop experience in which Jesus is revealed to be the Son of God. Mark tells us that Jesus’ clothes become “dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them” (v. 3), and in Matthew’s version, the gospel writer adds that “his face shone like the sun” (17:2). He enters into a conversation with Elijah and Moses, the two superstars of the Old Testament, and God’s voice booms out of a cloud, “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!” (Mark 9:4-7). You will recall that Peter, James and John are shocked, terrified and totally impressed by this display of divine power, and if they had been able to offer a musical tribute, they probably would’ve united their voices in: I sing the body electric; I celebrate the new year to come, I toast to my own reunion when I become one with the sun. When Jesus and the disciples come down the mountain together, they run into an adoring crowd, one that is “immediately overcome with awe” (v. 15). Then Jesus strongly rebukes an unclean spirit that’s possessing a boy, and the spirit leaves the boy, “crying out and convulsing him terribly.” The boy seems dead at first, but Jesus lifts him up, and he is able to stand (vv. 26-27). Showing his demon-defeating power as the Beloved Son of God, Jesus appears to be a rising star, one who will burn with the fire of 10 million stars. At least that’s what the disciples and most of those who witness this event think. But Jesus has another idea. “The Son of Man is to be betrayed … killed ... [and] rise again,” he says (v. 31). He predicts that his fire will be snuffed out completely before it is rekindled by God. The disciples continue to follow Jesus along the road to the town of Capernaum, and when they reach their destination, he asks them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” They are silent because they had been sparring with one another about who was the greatest. They had been singing another song from the movie Fame: I’m gonna live forever, I’m gonna learn how to fly — High! I feel it comin’ together, People will see me and cry — Fame! I’m gonna make it to heaven, Light up the sky like a flame — Fame! I’m gonna live forever, Baby, remember my name! The disciples know that there is something deeply wrong with this approach, something out of whack, something opposed to the agenda of a Messiah who keeps quiet about his accomplishments (vv. 33-34). So they stand around in the house in Capernaum, looking at their feet in shame. That’s right: shame, not fame. Then Jesus sits down in his teacher’s seat, calls the 12 disciples, and says to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” To be first you must be last, he insists; to be a star you must be a servant (v. 35). And to illustrate this countercultural career advice more clearly, Jesus takes a little child in his arms and says, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me” (vv. 36-37). The jaws of the disciples really hit the floor at this point, because in the first century a child is a nonperson, a nonentity, a nobody. There is no reason for a little child to be close to a great teacher such as Jesus, or in the middle of a group of men. Children are to stay with the women and keep themselves out of the way, until they grow up and can start exercising some adult responsibilities. But Jesus is saying, “When you welcome a nobody, you welcome me. And when you welcome me, you welcome God. So if you want to be first in the kingdom of God, then you had better get used to being a child-welcoming servant of all people.” Jesus is telling them that this is what it means to be One with the Son of God. By the same token, Jesus is calling us to turn our usual attitudes toward greatness and honor and fame completely upside down. Our normal perspective is to look at life from the top down, giving our greatest attention to the people who have competed with one another and come out on top. We do this with dancers, singers, actors and artists, as well as with politicians, business leaders and students. We are drawn to their fame and are impressed by their talents and accomplishments. But Jesus is saying, “No — change your perspective.” Instead, he says that we are to do just the opposite, to look at life from the bottom up and give your greatest attention to the people who have no fame. Focus on children, on single mothers, on cab drivers, on dishwashers, on chambermaids, on the working poor, on the homeless. “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me,” says Jesus, “and whoever welcomes me”, welcomes God. Our challenge is not to burn with the fire of 10 million stars. Instead, it is to act in such a way that we are One with the Son of God. We do this whenever we treat people with the dignity they deserve, as people who are made in God’s image. In California, there is an annual March for Human Dignity, which includes an underwear drive for the homeless. Hundreds of volunteers collect thousands of pairs of underwear and socks for people served by the Los Angeles Mission. “While many may look at this as something to joke about, we take it very seriously,” says mission chairperson Herb Smith. “To us, and to our guests, respect is a very important subject. When we treat people with dignity, they begin the process of retaining their self-respect, and over time, that can result in recovery and self-sufficiency.” The gift of a clean pair of underwear can help a homeless person regain a sense of self-respect. It can be an important step in recovery and self-sufficiency. It’s a small but significant one – one that treats the people on our streets with the dignity they deserve. To serve a homeless person is to serve Jesus, and to welcome such a brother or sister is to welcome the God who sent Jesus into the world. This bottom-up approach to greatness will never earn us fame or put us in the spotlight, but it will move us ever closer to the light of God’s eternal kingdom. And remember: When the curtain rises in that kingdom, we will all be surprised by whom we see on stage: the faithful servants of this world, people who served God and neighbor without ever drawing attention to themselves. And who knows, maybe there will be a place for us on that stage as well. As the song goes: In time, and in time, we will all be stars. Amen. |
