Psalm 54
Wisdom 1:16-2:1(6-11)12-22
James 3:16-4:6
Mark 9:30-37
18 September 1994
One of the many remarkable things about the men who wrote the gospels is their ability to remember, and their willingness to report, unflattering things about themselves. Today's lesson begins with the disciples hearing Jesus say the most important thing he can say: that he is to be betrayed, arrested, killed and resurrected. Mark, probably relying on Peter's testimony, tersely relates: they do not understand and they are afraid to ask what he means. At first it's odd that Mark says they don't understand. This is the third time they've heard him predict the Son of Man's death and resurrection. By now they've been with Jesus long enough to have figured out that he uses the enigmatic term "Son of Man" to refer to himself, so they probably realize he is talking about things that are going to happen to him. To say one is to be betrayed, killed and arrested is straightforward. These are common enough phenomena. They understand what those things mean, even though they may well wonder how Jesus thinks they're going to happen to him, or why he believes they will happen to him. Earlier in this chapter, the second time Jesus refers to his impending death and resurrection, Mark writes that it's the idea of rising from the dead that they don't grasp. So it's reasonable to think that this is what they still don't understand. Whether there is a resurrection of the dead, and if so what it might amount to, was a popular topic for theological debate in the first century. Disagreement about it divided the Pharisees from the Saducees. I can imagine the disciples, like so many others in the centuries after the event, trying to find some reasonable interpretation, some edifying spiritual truth, symbolized in these words about the resurrection of Jesus, their minds stumbling over the simple, appalling prospect of a risen Jesus.
Still, it's hard not to suspect something else is going on here; that it's not merely a matter of not understanding Jesus' words about rising again, but of their not wanting to understand his words about his approaching humiliation and death. Perhaps they half understand but what they begin to understand is something they do not want to hear. Mark records that they are afraid to ask Jesus what, exactly, he's talking about. In part, they may be afraid because of the harsh words that came out of their attempt to discuss this matter with their master earlier. That, they remember, is when Jesus told Peter to get out of his way because he was doing Satan's work by objecting to Jesus' claim that he was going to be killed. And in part they may be afraid that he really means what he seems to mean, that he is heading toward something dark and tragic, not great and glorious.
The episode in today's text occurs not long after Jesus first breaks the news that he will be rejected by the leaders of Israel, put to death by them, and then rise again. (This is at the end of chapter 8.) There Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. A strong word: rebukes are for those who do bad or foolish things. I think the disciples find Jesus' talk of his suffering embarrassing and dangerous, as simply not the sort of thing one in his position ought to be saying. That's why, I think, part of Jesus' response is his warning to those who are "ashamed of the Son of Man." The disciples have a vision of Jesus' mission. This wild talk of weakness, humiliation and death is totally out of place in it, not mitigated by the puzzling references to some sort of 'rising again.' They are following Jesus out of a conviction that he is the long-awaited Messiah, indeed they have given up everything for this dream -- they are always ready to remind Jesus about that -- and they have gone through a lot for the sake of the messianic kingdom they think they hear Jesus preaching.
His disciples' attitude must have deeply disappointed Jesus and hurt him. After all this time living and working intimately with him they still have no clue as to what he is about. They are as much in the dark as the crowds that have pursued and harassed Jesus all over Galilee. Those volatile crowds hungered for a messiah, a charismatic figure, a man specially chosen and anointed by God to be a powerful, glorious king. Like David of old, he would destroy the people's oppressors and make them again proud to be God's favored people. The unruly crowds that follow Jesus are never far from forcing kingship upon him and igniting a bloody peasant revolt against the religious establishment up in Jerusalem and their backers, the Roman puppet government. This is why, again and again in this gospel, Jesus, moved by love and pity, heals someone but then commands him not to let anyone know about it. And this is why, when the demons he separates from their victims spontaneously cry out "what have you to do with us, Son of God?" he is quick to silence them. Jesus does not deny that he is the Messiah, or the Son of God, but he insists that he not be called this in public. The last thing Jesus wants is for the crowd to proclaim him Messiah and try to make him their king. He loves them too much to give them the hollow redemption they want. He does, finally, permit himself be so addressed: he lets the high priest know he is the messiah, precisely when doing so is sure to enrage the priest's religious sensibilities and incite his condemnation at the hands of Israel's religious authorities. And he does let Pilate, the representative of imperial Rome, call him King of the Jews, because in doing so he helps guarantee his crucifixion. He lets himself be called by these titles just when doing so insures he will not be treated as messiah or king. The episode Mark puts next in his story shows the disciples tenaciously holding on to their hopes for a Davidic messianic kingdom. They seem to have forgotten Jesus' disturbing words about rejection and death. As they walk they are anticipating their places in God's approaching reign. They are discussing what positions they will have when Jesus comes into his own. They are like campaign workers whose candidate is far ahead in the polls as the election nears. They naturally see themselves as getting important, powerful jobs in the new administration. It's only right: Jesus, no more than king David, can't rule alone. He needs lieutenants, administrators. Who could be as qualified? It's rather awkward when Jesus overhears these discussions, but it's hard not to think about the exciting possibilities. Besides, someone has to think about these practical matters and plan ahead for that glorious day when Jesus rules in God's kingdom.
These are busy, important men. They're in the entourage of a man admired, revered, practically even worshipped, by delirious crowds. They're close to a man of marvelous powers, some of which he has shared with them. They're the inner circle who receive the secret teaching that the crowds don't get. They're envied and respected, involved in world-shaking events, in the vanguard of God's wonderful redemption of his people. The last thing on their minds is dropping everything and paying attention to the needs of some small child. Great things are in the air: how could they stop their vital work on God's behalf to concern themselves with what is small, noisy, dirty and badly-behaved? This,after all, is work for servants and women. And yet, there Jesus is, taking a child into his arms, saying: "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me."
Later in the book Mark describes Jesus as teaching that one must become like a little child to enter the kingdom of God, but that's not what he says here. In this passage Jesus is trying to get through to his dear muddled friends. They think they are accepting him, but in reality they are ready only to welcome a messiah who brings a kingdom that celebrates wealth and strength, not one that lifts up the poor and weak; a kingdom that seeks judgment and vindication, not one that grants forgiveness; a kingdom that is based on power, glory, and security, not a kingdom of love, humility and trust. Jesus' kingdom is not, as he later (in John's gospel) tells Pilate, of this world. He is the messiah, but the meaning of this is not bound to human illusions. Welcoming this king is not like welcoming a king; it's like welcoming a child. In our culture, we romanticize childhood, sentimentally picturing children as sweet and good and valuable, cherished in theory, if not always in fact. We have to forget that to feel the force of what Jesus is doing here. Children occupy the bottom of society. They have no status, no power; they're completely dependent and helpless. Caring for them is demanding, thankless and unrewarding; it's not a task for those who hope to make something of themselves in this world. Yet, to be be like Jesus is to be the sort of person who is ready to make room and time not for a king, but a mere child; it is to come in last, to do the dirty work of everyone else. Until this readiness has been born in our hearts, we haven't really understood what Jesus says and does. Jesus is telling those of us who want to be his disciples that he suffers and dies on our behalf, and that all power and glory lie on the other side of the cross, and that they are the power and glory of God's love and grace.