16th Sunday after Pentecost September 20, 2009 “The Greatest of These” Reverend Michael D. Powell Mark 9:33-35

Last week I concluded my sermon by quoting Paul’s great Hymn of Love: “Faith, hope, love abide these three, but the greatest of these is love.” (1 Corinthians 13:13) To love one another even as we have been loved is the only commandment Jesus ever gave his disciples, and this morning we’re looking at how that love is incarnated in acts of discipleship. Here’s the context. Jesus has been walking along the road to Capernaum with his disciples. The way I imagine it, the disciples are talking among themselves. They’re talking about who is going to be the greatest, and at this point they’re not talking about love. Obviously, they just don’t get it yet. The way I imagine the scene, the disciples are walking and talking, and Jesus is taking a little prayer break, lagging a little behind, or perhaps striding ahead. He catches a word or a phrase now and then, so he gets the drift of what they’re talking about and later, when they arrive in Capernaum he asks, “Now, just what exactly was it you guys were discussing along the road?”

Let’s listen in. Here’s Peter: “Hey guys, remember that I was one of the first to be chosen by Jesus, and I did step out of the boat and walk for a few steps on the water. Besides, I was the only one who got it right when he asked who we thought he was. Remember? I said that he was the Christ. When Jesus comes into his glory I’m sure to be his right hand man.”

But then there’s Andrew: “Come on, Peter, it was me who introduced you to Jesus. And aren’t you conveniently forgetting that ‘Get behind me Satan’ statement when Jesus scolded you for not understanding his mission? That doesn’t sound like “Greatest Disciple” stuff to me.

Imagine Matthew’s words: “It’s obvious that Kingdom building takes organizational and managerial skills. Don’t forget I was a tax collector. Jesus chose me because of my education and experience.”

Then the brothers, James and John weigh in: “We’re the ones he chose to take up the mountain when he was transfigured. He named us Boanerges, “Sons of Thunder” for our enthusiasm. And then John adds, with just a bit of pride: “And don’t forget that I’m the Beloved Disciple. That sounds like a number one position to me.”

Even Judas has a good argument: “We all know religion is a business and that it takes money to make money. Jesus chose me as treasurer of this group. I must be number one.”

Finally Jesus asks, “Guys, what were you talking about back there?” There’s an immediate sense of being busted. It’s so obvious they still don’t understand the nature of true discipleship. No one had said a thing about faith, hope, or loving others as they’ve been loved. So Jesus says it again, only he says it a little differently this time. “If anyone wants to be first, they must be the servant of all.”

This is another of those hard sayings of Jesus; words that don’t really fit into our notions about what it takes it make it in the world. They’re as hard for us to hear and understand today as they were for those first disciples. What does it mean to really love one another as we have been loved, to be a servant?

Well, for one thing, it’s not necessarily glorious work. Fred Craddock, one of the most outstanding preachers of our time, illustrates the fantasy of a disciple. “To give my life for Christ appears glorious: To pour myself out for others – to pay the ultimate price of martyrdom. I’ll do it. I’m ready, Lord, to go out in a blaze of glory.” He goes on to illustrate it graphically: “We think giving our all to the Lord is like taking a $1000 bill and laying it on the table. ‘Here’s my life, Lord. I’m giving it all.’ But the reality for most of us is that he sends us to the bank and has us cash in the $1000 for quarters. We go through life putting out 25 cents here and 50 cents there. Listen to the neighbor kids’ troubles instead of saying ‘Get lost.’ Go to a committee meeting. Give a cup of water to a shaky old man in a nursing home. You get the point. Usually giving our life in love to Christ isn’t glorious. It’s done in all those little acts of love, 25 cents at a time. It would be easy to go out in a blaze of glory; it’s harder to live the Christian life little by little over the long haul.”

In his book, Celebration of Discipline, Richard Foster makes a distinction between true servanthood and what he calls self-righteous acts of service. His point is that we can engage in acts of service and still not be practicing the discipline of true servanthood. Here are some distinctions between the two.

Acts of service come through human effort, often expending great amounts of energy calculating how the service is rendered, and keeping track of who gets the credit on some imagined ecclesiastical scoreboard. A homey little example might be the husband who vacuums the rug, but leaves the vacuum out so that his wife will be sure to notice. The work has been done, but isn’t it nice to get the credit, the recognition, the appreciation? Of course it is! That’s only human. But Foster takes it a step farther. He’s talking about being detached from the need for recognition, for getting credit. He goes on to say that true service comes from a love relationship, whether it’s with your spouse or with God. We just do what needs to be done and are not concerned with recognition or credit, because God doesn’t necessarily call us to be successful. The point is not success or credit, the point is that we’re called to be faithful. What a tremendous release to surrender control, trusting that we just do our best, and the results are in God’s hands. Our goal not to become great, it’s to take on the nature of Christ, who came to be a servant to all.

I’ll close with a wonderful example that really worked for me; maybe it will resonate for you as well. Leonard Bernstein, the conductor was once asked, “What’s the hardest instrument to play?” Without a twinge of hesitation, he replied, “Second fiddle. I can always get plenty of violists. But to find one who plays second fiddle with as much enthusiasm, or second French horn, or second flute, now that’s a problem. And yet if no one plays second fiddle, we have no harmony.”

Thanks be to God for the love that has been shared with us. Thank God for the opportunity to be of service and for the energy to do what needs to be done, no matter whether it’s recognized or not. May we love others even as we have been loved. And to God goes the glory. Amen.