SO YOU WANT TO BE A DISCIPLE?
Church Island
August 23, 1998
Mark was no stranger to church politics. His little Jewish Jesus movement community was undergoing severe stress. The Romans threw his Christian brothers and sisters to the lions; mainstream Judaism made them unwelcome in the Synagogue and Jerusalem itself lay in ruins.
Some of Mark's churchmates wondered if this chaos wasn't really their opportunity. Was the wreckage of Jerusalem really the harbinger of a new regime where Christ would rule? Were they living amid an apocalyptic moment ushering in a new political and economic order? Was the world really at their feet? If so, now they could really exercise their Christianity. They could really be Christians with muscle!
So, feeling smug, a little complacent and richly deserving, Marks friends began to carve out their turf. You can hear them now if you listen carefully. "Say, I've got what it takes to be Mayor of Jerusalem; I'll back you for Bishop of Philippi." You're lobbying for a Monsignorship in Athens? I'm perfectly situated to serve as Rector of the Church in Antioch." And on it goes, church members jockeying for position, status, recognition: searching for places to throw their weight around, eager to take charge of something or other. And from their new positions of power, they'd make sure the realm of heaven would be truly revealed and they'd be in the catbird seat.
But Mark himself is not so sure. So in a polemic aimed at these scavengers for position he tells the story we read a moment or two ago about Jesus confronting his disciples with an entirely different understanding of who they are and how they serve. While those clowns beat their chests and claim their territory, Jesus sets in their midst a "scruffy, bedraggled, runny nosed kid. " It's a child in a culture disdaining children; no doubt a little girl who holds no status at all - Jesus sets her amid this pathetic power hungry little crowd and says, "Do you want to be a Christian? Are you serious about it? Well, discover your true identity in this child. Where is her status? Can you find her privilege? Show me her credentials. Do you see a Bishop? A Mayor? A CEO? A Ph.D.; a Sr. Minister, a Rector type here? Do you see a Sr. Vice President? A Board member at the club; a committee chair, a bid deal, a little deal a mediocre deal? Hardly. She is weak, defenseless, vulnerable. Discipleship and this child are cut from the same cloth."
Friends, can you see what Mark is doing? Do you see his line of argument? With that child he strips the Christian life of rank. By using that little girl, a person devoid of any worldly status, he says discipleship is a gift to all of us - not just to ministers and religious professionals and church officers and good people or those who can say the creed sing the hymns, or have got their names on the church list of committees, the plaque over the organ, the citation under this stained glass window or are even official church members. That sniveling child amid those social climbing disciples subverts every claim to status, challenges the pretensions of ever church hierarchy - whether it be at my bailiwick in Boston, the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire, the New Hampshire Conference of the United Church of Christ or anywhere else, Jesus reverses social values; he turns our hard earned, carefully molded identities upside down.
After all, we know what really counts in this world, don't we? Who gets the respect? What makes the grade? Who receives the deference? Sometimes those of us who live in New England, like those status seeking disciples can be equally sensitive to our places in the pecking order and need reminders the world is larger than the lore associated with John Winthrop, Abigail Adams, Governor Wentworth or Harriet Beecher Stowe. It was Rabbi Stephen Wise who told of once sitting next to a gentleman proud of his ancient New England extraction. "One of may ancestors," said the gentleman smugly - - "One of my ancestors signed the declaration of Independence."
Indeed, replied Rabbi Wise, without a hitch "And one of mine signed the Ten Commandments." Touché, New England.
We see the same old game, time and again, "I'm a doctor, you know. I chair the department." "I'm an educator, you know, the Associate Dean of the School" "I belong to this elite club; the influential one with all the top brass." "I've got a degree from Ivy-U; it rests at the top of the standings in US New and World Report." "I'm one of the first families of wherever; I'm entitled to this recognition, I deserve this authority." "I'm a preacher. I've got the most prominent, and largest, if not the richest church in town." Jesus well knows the nature of our arguments. "I deserve the free pass . . . I'm entitled to the front row. I claim the special parking space, the single room. I merit the title 'Honorable.' I've been ordained and you can call me 'Reverend.'"
"Oh! Come off it," says our Lord. And setting that child in our midst he smashes our self serving, precious human distinctions forever. He even wipes out the designation,
"Christian." To follow Christ we immerse ourselves -
without claim - in the common life of humanity. We draw no lines, move across all barriers. We are human begins graced and loved by God; we're men and women living without borders, ourselves gracing and loving this troubled and
needy world.
II
But that's just the half of it. Our Christian identity not only mirrors that child; our vocation serves her. When Jesus reaches over and hoists that little gift into his arms he shows us not only who we are, but what we are to do. We share not only her barrier free existence; we are called to receive her who is rejected; to accept her who is beyond the pale; to embrace her before she can offer us anything; to make available hospitality with no quid pro quo; to affirm her dignity who has none but only that of being a child of God and person for whom Christ died.
How shall we do it? How shall we serve her? In solidarity; in togetherness; in community; shoulder to shoulder. No distinction, no claim to being a special case, using our talents, our gifts, our insights in mutual support.
What would such service look like? How would we recognize it? Well, not long ago someone stuck into my mailbox a little chestnut illustrating the nature and quality of our discipleship in a world where a lot of us end up clamoring for our turf. It's called "The Pit" and it goes like this:
A man fell into a pit and he couldn't get himself out.
A subjective person came along and said, "I feel for you down there."
An objective person came along and said, "It's logical that someone would fall down there."
A Congregationalist came along and said, "We're meeting next Thursday night at 7:30 p.m. at the church to work out a process to get him out of the pit."
A Pharisee came along and said, "Only bad people fall into the pit."
A mathematician calculated how he fell into the pit and speed of his decline.
A fundamentalist said, "You deserve that pit."
Confucius said, "If you listened to me you would not be in the pit."
Buddha said, "Your pit is only a state of mind."
A realist said, "That's a pit."
A scientist calculated the pressure necessary, pounds and square inches, to get him out of the pit.
A geologist told him to appreciate and study the rock strata.
An evolutionist said, "You are a rejected mutant destined to be removed from the evolutionary cycle, in other words he is going to die in the pit so he can't produce any more pit-falling offspring."
The county inspector asked, "Do you have a permit to dig the pit?"
A professor gave him a lecture on the elementary principles of the pit.
A self pitying person said, "You haven't seen anything until you've seen my pit.,"
An optimist said, "Things could be worse."
A pessimist said, "Things are going to get worse.
Jesus saw the man in the pit, took him by the hand, and lifted him out.
Of course! Jesus saw the man in the pit, took him by the hand and lifted him out. That's discipleship. That's faithfulness. That captures our mission and our ministry. No peremptory claims to special rights, no bargains for honor, no quid pro quos for tributes, no deals for recognition, higher office or power slots. It may mean commitment to communities whose public responsibilities take the poor, the outsider, the weakest, the children of our country and world seriously, working in every way for private and public policies designed to provide sure footing and an open future. It may mean personal ministry to one another, to someone vacationing with you in this beautiful place, to a member of you congregation back home, to someone in your hometown in need of your compassion and solidarity. Sustain a ministry like that and we prove to the world we know what Jesus means when he reaches for that market-place child, sets her on his lap, shrugs and says simply, "So you want to be a disciple? Whoever receives this little one receives me." God grant it may be so.
Let us pray: Grant, O God, our discipleship may be faithful to you high, persistent and merciful calling. Amen
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