Extreme Superlatives

16th Sunday after Pentecost

Mark 9:30-37

There is no question in our minds that Jesus takes us at our worst, and constantly challenges us to be our best. We then live out our earthly existence somewhere in between, constantly testing the limits of those two extreme boundaries, but most often conceding to middle ground.

The poets in our scripture lessons for today suggest the possibility of perfection on the part of both men and women in our midst – the “Proverbs 31” woman, and the “Psalm 1” man. None of us achieve these lofty goals, and yet they remain goals, nonetheless. James calls us to wisdom, challenging our human endeavors at earthly accomplishments when our goals are too self-focused and when our methods are devoid of gentleness and mercy. We have heard all of these scriptures read for us this morning, in a way that perhaps helps us to understand the futility we feel as we strive toward those things Jesus hopes for us, and we hope for ourselves

We sound a little like His disciples.

When we read Mark’s gospel, especially these middle chapters, we get a glimpse of a less sanitized Jesus than you and I are used to seeing. He confronts with regularity. He often stands somewhat aloof, “passing by” as Mark puts it from time to time. A few weeks ago, Mark told us that He was “intending to pass by” the disciples as they were drowning in their boat. Or, two weeks ago, we see Jesus enter the house of the woman whose daughter had an unclean spirit – Jesus entered, Mark tells us, “and did not want anyone to know He was there.” Today we hear that He is simply “passing through” Galilee. The way Mark describes Jesus, He is somewhat aloof, and often detached from the various situations He encounters along the way.

And then Mark tells us that He is watching. Several references in these middle chapters picture Jesus standing back and watching the disciples as they attempt to figure out just Who He is and what He wants from them – their “role” in this little mini-drama. As we arrive at v. 30, Jesus and the disciples are arriving in Galilee, or more accurately, passing through Galilee (again, not wanting anyone to know about it). He begins to teach them concerning the immediate future – saying that “The Son of Man is to be delivered into the hands of men, and they will kill Him; and when He has been killed, He will rise three days later.” Mark goes on to say that the disciples “didn’t understand,” and were “afraid to ask Him about it.”

Well, I guess!! We’re rather with them at this point – we don’t understand. We don’t understand Jesus’ actions, and we don’t understand much of His message. We’re confused. We feel somewhat isolated and perhaps even a little abandoned.

Just like the disciples . . . And then we notice in today’s scriptures that Jesus is watching them. They arrive in Capernaum, which most scholars think was Peter’s home town, and perhaps Jesus’ adopted home town. And when they do arrive, after they’ve unpacked and finally sit down in the house to prop their feet up for a little while, Jesus pops the question – “What were you boys arguing about back on the road?” He’s been watching. He’s always watching us.

Mark says that they were silent. Well, I guess so. They’d been arguing about who was the greatest among them. Muhammad Ali hadn’t come along yet, and they were evidently confused about this point, not to mention the concept as a whole. Who was the greatest among them!! What a question to ask!!

There’s so much we don’t know. We don’t know who the “they” was at this point. Was it all the disciples, or was it just Peter, James and John, who had recently accompanied Jesus up the mountain where they watched as Jesus, Moses and Elijah were gloriously transfigured in front of their very eyes. That must have been quite a sight, not to mention something of an ego trip for the “big three.” We don’t know exactly who was involved in the “argument,” and we don’t know the extent of their argument. We don’t know if Jesus was irritated by their suppositional questioning. And we don’t know the tenor in His voice as He asked the question.

We do know that these boys were obsessed with power and position. And even this little exchange didn’t faze them, because in the next chapter – Chapter 10 – the sons of Zebedee came to Jesus asking that He grant them the privilege of sitting on their right and left “when He came into His kingdom.” He told them they didn’t know what they were asking.

Neither do we, when we strive for these extreme superlatives.

Truth of the matter is – when we feel isolated and abandoned, and after we get past our momentary depressions, we start to look for ways in which we might distinguish ourselves. We start to ask really dumb questions, like “Who is the greatest in the kingdom,” and “May we sit on your right side and your left side when you come into your kingdom.” We start to listen to the voices of prominence in our lives – our parents, who tell us that we are wonderful and we can be anything we want to be – or our own voices – which tell us that we are deserving of positions of power and prominence in the kingdom of God – that we have served God with exemplary behavior and consistency – and that we are deserving of all the extreme superlatives which can possibly be ushered upon us. We start to believe that we deserve more than the others around us, and we start to believe that we are actually better than those around us – you know, people for whom Jesus died. And we fold our arms and point fingers at those poor, unfortunate souls. Or we huddle in public and private corners with anyone we can convince to join our social politic, and we castigate those sisters and brothers – for whom Christ died – we castigate them and condemn them from our lofty positions of prominence and power – so that we might continue to elevate ourselves to the levels of extreme superlatives we have lavished upon ourselves.

Charles Cousar says that “strikingly, the disciples are not reprimanded for what seems like a ridiculous argument, but the whole notion of ‘greatness’ is redefined.”[1] You and I can breathe something of a sigh of relief that Jesus doesn’t give us what we deserve when we act like this – rather, Jesus redefines the conversation for us with as much grace as candor.

He redefined these extreme superlatives. He gave us new superlatives, for which to strive. Cousar says, “New categories are proposed for determining success and failure, winning and losing, achievement and unfulfillment. We begin to get an inkling of what setting our minds on divine thought really implies – not purely spiritual meditations, but attention to the least in such a radical way that we become the least.”[2] Jesus did this for us in such a memorable way -

He found a child.

Mark says, “He found a child, put her in their midst, and then took her into His arms.” I like that picture. Except for the extremely cynical among us, most of us love to gather a child into our arms. Pick up a baby and pull it to your chest. Bounce a toddler on your knee. Pick up a five year old, who is starting to get to old and big to pick up any more. There is something magical about those moments. There is something so very human about those moments. We all love them.

Jesus brought this little child into their midst, and in doing so, introduced us to new superlatives. Meekness. Vulnerability. Transparency. Graciousness. Ideas and concepts which find their genesis in children, who are, in most societies, the very least of us all, when they should be the very most important of us all.

In teaching this class out at NOC, we dealt with a chapter on poverty. It used to be that the elderly were the largest group in poverty in this country. But with the investment Social Security has produced in our country, poverty among the elderly has declined significantly. Do you know who has replaced them – as the fastest growing segment of society when it comes to the issues of poverty? Children. Children are the segment of society in which poverty is growing fastest.

Children are the least among us, when they should be the very most important among us. Seems it’s always been that way.

Jesus used the most vulnerable among us as an example of greatness in the kingdom. He wasn’t referencing the “child’s naiveté or innocence or trustfulness”[3] here – no, He was making a point about this “child’s lowly status.”[4] Jesus found the smallest, lowliest, weakest, most vulnerable and transparent person He could find standing around that afternoon, and said to the disciples and to us, “This is how you come into the kingdom. You come like this child. And when you’re looking for positions of prominence and importance in the kingdom, you look for someone like this child to welcome into the kingdom. And when you finally learn how to welcome someone like this child, then you’ve learned how to welcome me, and if you can welcome me, you’ve finally found your way to God.”

And isn’t that why we’re here this morning. To find our way to God??

A friend of mine in town here this week said to me, “One of the strangest things about your church is that you have so many people of excellent and noble character as members.” I know what she was trying to say – she was attempting to offer a compliment to our congregation.

I pray that we are not known so much for our achievements, and our prominence in this community, and our individual and corporate excellencies – as we are for our humility, our meekness, our gentleness, and our graciousness. I pray that when people speak of us, that they notice that we love – especially the least among us – like Jesus did – and that we care more for others – more than we care for ourselves. I hope that’s what they say about us.

As we all make our way to God . . .

Richard W. Dunn, Ph.D.

[1] Brueggemann, Cousar, Gaventa, Newsome, Texts for Preaching, Year B, p. 520.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Ibid.