September 21, 2003
Proper 20, Year B
Church of the Holy Communion
The Rev. Gary D. Jones
Gospel: Mark 9:30-37
My first real introduction to church gossip was the year I was ordained, about 18 years ago, at an old Knoxville restaurant called "The Quarterback" - one of those places that had orange and white décor and pictures of volunteer football players and coaches all over the walls. The décor wasn't much, but the food was cheap and it was an old Knoxville hangout where you got to see lots of people.
Cherry and I sat there on this fall evening in our booth with formica table and plastic formed benches, waiting for our pizza, when I heard two ladies sitting behind me talking about the clergy with whom I worked at St. John's Cathedral. And they weren't saying very nice things. In fact, they were very put out, almost disgusted. I tried not to listen, really, but it was hard not to hear every unkind word and personal slight that these two women spoke. I was just thankful that I hadn't been at St. John's long enough for them to talk about me, because the way things were going in the booth behind us, nobody was going to be spared.
I kept hoping they'd leave before us, because if we got up first, they'd see us and realize that they had been overheard. Finally, after we had finished and the ladies behind us had not left, we just decided we'd better bite the bullet and get up from our table. I confess feeling a twinge of sinister satisfaction when the first lady to recognize me instantly turned red, audibly gasped and grabbed her heart. For a split second I thought about saying to these two ladies what Jesus said to his disciples in the Gospel lesson this morning, "So, what have you been talking about tonight?"
It had to have been one of the most embarrassing moments in the disciples' lives. They had been making their way through the Palestinian countryside with Jesus all day long, and during their travels, while Jesus was just up ahead of them, they had fallen into a heated discussion, and it wasn't about the Habitat House they were building. When they entered the house at their destination and were settling in, Jesus asked them matter-of-factly, "So, what have you been talking about today?"
Now, I can imagine how the disciples could have answered. "Well, Lord, we were talking for a while about Peter's mother who has been really sick lately. We agreed we all should keep praying for her, and we were hoping we could cheer Peter up a little. Then we got to talking about Zebedee, you know, James' and John's father. We were hoping he had gotten some of the young men nearby to help him with the family's fishing business, now that James and John have left home.
"And then, Lord, just before we got here today, we got to talking about how grateful we all are. It's hard to explain - we don't understand it all. Sometimes, Lord, your teaching is hard to follow. But still, … we've all felt it. Something we can't really put our finger on. Bartholomew said it was like a joy inside himself that he'd never felt before. And Thomas said that, although we hardly every know where our next meal is going to come from, he just knows that everything is going to be alright - we have left everything; we don't have anything; and yet we feel so full, an abundance of life we've never felt before.
"Anyway, that's what were talking about, Lord. And the more we discussed it with each other, the more encouraged we felt in our faith."
I can imagine this conversation with Jesus, because I've heard conversations like these before - conversations in which people who care about each other and pray together seem to grow in Grace and in the knowledge and love of God, as they share with each other what they sense God is doing in their lives.
But that isn't what happened. Instead, when Jesus asked the disciples what they had been talking about, the disciples got silent. Because they had been talking about who was most important. They were arguing about who was greatest; who was right and who was wrong; who was in and who was out.
And we've all heard that kind of conversation before, too. It's the way grownups deal with their doubts and insecurities, by puffing themselves up and putting others down and insisting that their way is the only way. Jesus had heard it all before, too, which is why he held a small child in his arms and said, "Listen, this is what greatness is all about."
Years ago, an incident of police brutality in Los Angeles precipitated race riots around the country, and community leaders in large cities around the United States scrambled to organize meetings where people could vent and discuss. The hope was that these meetings would let people blow off steam and unite blacks and whites against violence in their own cities.
I was in Charlotte in a downtown church at the time, and I was eager to attend the hastily called meeting in the downtown civic auditorium. The mayor, council members, CEO's of banks and other corporations, community organizers, … many people came at the last minute to this crowded forum where tensions were high - fear and anger were seething just beneath the surface. And since this meeting was at the end of the workday, many of these city leaders had to bring their children from their daycares and after-school programs. It was a huge, tense gathering.
One speaker after another took to the podium on a stage down front. Charlotte had had its own problems with suspected racial profiling by law enforcement officers, so the situation in LA just released some already pent up frustration and anger. I was prepared for all of this to deteriorate rapidly, because some of the speakers seemed nearly out of control, and I was sure some sort of violence could erupt.
And then, there was a scream. The speaker at the podium on stage turned to her left, as we all did, to see what had happened. And there at the side of this large auditorium, in a space where all the chairs had been pushed aside, there were our children: toddlers and grade school kids, black and white, not screaming but squealing. Squealing with delight, as they ran back and forth, playing a game of some sort, piling on top of each other like puppies, and helping each other up again, all with great smiles on their faces and squeals of delight.
It was a miracle. And the speaker on stage at the time allowed that we all were perhaps witnessing those who should lead us. Someone tried to resume the adult tirade; another speaker mounted the stage; but it was clear that the energy on the adult side of the auditorium was gone. This meeting of great importance was over, and the only problem we had at the end of it all was the problem the parents had trying to coax their children away from their games with their newfound friends.
Once in a while, God is still putting children in our midst in hopes that we'll come to our senses.
One of our seven year old daughter's very best friends happens to be a Jew. This distinction, which some adults make much of, is only a mild curiosity for Caroline and her friend. All they know is that they love each other, think about each other all the time, and would do anything in the world for each other.
It would never occur to Caroline or her friend that whether one was Christian, Jewish, Hindu or Buddhist would make a bit of difference in the world. Their seven year old hearts identify only one thing that matters - they love each other.
The innate religion of the child knows only the importance of love. The learned religion of the adult knows the importance of many other things - creeds, espousing correct beliefs, and the importance of being right…. In fact, adult religion can be so passionate in this regard that religious crusades, wars and inquisitions litter the pages of adult history.
Is this why Jesus put a child in their midst after the disciples had been arguing with each other about who was greatest, about who was most important, about who was right and who was wrong, about who was going to be in and who was going to be out? Is this why he put a child in their midst and held that child in his arms?
Like the disciples, we are making our life journeys with many important concerns. And whether we recognize him or not, whether we remember or not, Jesus is our constant companion in our life journey. And at various times in our life, if we listen, we can hear Jesus asking us the very same question he asked the disciples in the Gospel lesson this morning: "What have you been talking about along your journey? What have you been focusing on? What have you been debating? Where has your best time and energy in life been going?"
So I ask myself, what have I been focusing on and talking about along the way? When Jesus asks us this question, will we (like the disciples)… will we become silent, because we are embarrassed about how we've spent our time? Or will we be able to say, with some real joy and gratitude, "Lord, I'm so glad you asked. I can't wait to tell you all about it."