Pedigree + Humility

Mark 10:35-45
This sermon was meant to be heard more than read.
You can listen to a recording of it here.

Come close that you may see
My pedigree,
All the degrees,
Hanging in frames on my walls
Like phylacteries
On my head.

They prove me worthy
Entitle me to status
Show that I can be your catalyst
For deeper spiritual experience.
I was a college student, a seminarian,
An intern at the American Church
In Berlin.
I graduated top of my class
Bright as a flash of light,
A glint, a gleam, a coruscation,
Making success my holy habitation.

Punch my ticket--
I have arrived.
Years learning my letters
Earning my letters
So I could earn those three letters
R. E. V.
Reverend--
one who should be revered--
Loved, maybe even feared--
I’ve earned your respect
From my years at a desk.
But I’ve got plans beyond the classroom
In the sanctuary and the boardroom,
In the streets and in the dressing room.
The fuse has been lit
Now watch my career go boom.

But I don’t want to be known.
No, shroud me in mystery
An arm’s length between you and me.
I want to be remembered.
A legend
I want a legacy where my
achievements outlive me,
My accomplishments a shrine
To the time
I had on this earth;
Eternal life on the lips of strangers
Of those who live beyond me.
When I’m dead in the dirt.

Greatness. Prestige.
Call it vanity but I believe
That it’s what’s meant for me.
I will not die in obscurity.
I will live on.
And you will remember me.


James walks slow
next to John, his bro
and they dream
On the road with Jesus.

Jesus.

Who John sees as just
A ladder to climb
A status sign.
I know his dream
Because his dream is mine.
To follow Greatness
And so to become great.

And James is enamored
Of a messiah with a hammer,
Maccabees, the slammer
Who brought enemies
To their knees;
Then dropped to his knees
In praise of a god who
Blessed his tribe
And left the rest to die.

Or maybe a messiah with a crown
And jewels studded all down his gown
Who rules with justice--
Just as David,
The one who will reign
In splendor and acclaim--
O this monarch the famous,
The last and the greatest.

James and John
Have drawn
Their conclusions
Of this Jesus.
He’s warrior. He’s king.
And as they walk they sing
About their destiny,
Fish this dead lake for snapper
Or climb the social ladder?
I’ll take the latter.
From fisherman to right-hand-man.

Or left-hand-man.
Let’s not be picky.
Attaining greatness can be tricky
But really, any level of fame will do
For those unwilling to hear the truth.


Because James and John?
They’re deaf. Or distracted.
They heard what Jesus told them
And then redacted
Everything unsettling
Like the cursing, the whipping,
The trial, the spitting;
The long walk to Calvary,
The crucifixion and the agony
And finally
death.

“No don’t say that.
The messiah doesn’t die.
He reigns on high
From the valleys to the sky.
So don’t talk about dying,
That’s unseemly and bemusing,
Disgraceful and more than a little bit
Confusing.

“No, stick to the warring,
With hammers swinging.
Stick to the king
On his throne, kinging.
Stick to Melchizedek,
With holy choirs singing.
Stick with those things,
Jesus, and we’ll stick with you.
Stick to those things
And you simply can’t lose.
You’re the king!
You’re the priest!
You’re the master!
You’re a beast!
Let ‘em see what happens
When you bust out your cage
These Pharisees and Scribes
And Sages will rage,
and we’ll laugh in their faces
“At these fools and—”

STOP.


“Don’t revise what I said,”
Jesus shook his head,
“Can you drink from the cup
To which I am being led?--
No don’t interrupt
You don’t know what’s coming,
You don’t listen when I tell you the upcoming
Trials will be cunning and painful,
devastating and disdainful.
The messiah’s future is not among the wealthy,
It’s not among the powerful or the healthy.
The messiah’s future ends at a tree
With no plea,
And so must yours
if you’re gonna follow me.”

You see, James and John,
They were enamored of power
Distracted by the glory of the hour.
They saw Jesus’ renown--
He couldn’t be cut down!
Could he?

A priest once told me that if we would change
Then our path lies in descent, not in fame.
If we would follow Jesus then we must find contentment
With darkness and failure and relapse and resentment.
Not because those things
Are good or of God,
But because by our sufferings
We learn to trod
The paths of humility.
In experiencing death,
Even a taste or a moment,
We learn that each breath
Is a gift, a bestowment
Of something graceful
And good and merciful.
This life, it is fragile,
A breath on the wind
One day we are clothed
With a ring and a robe
The next we are Job.

The only constant is God.

And God doesn’t live in the clouds or parapets,
In the tabernacle or among the paraments,
Or in immense cathedrals smoked with incense
Or in banks racking up interest.
God’s not in the boardrooms
Or the locker rooms
Or the dressing rooms.
If you seek God among the powerful
The proud or anointed.
You will be disappointed.

God’s house isn’t up, it’s down
Not in the clouds but deep in the ground.
In the dirt, in the mud,
In the scum and the crud.
God lives with the lowly, the broken,
The wholly unholy,
Who don’t know his name,
But seek him by shooting up their veins
Or selling their own bodies for cash
Who sit on the street and take shots from a flask.
God’s deep in the weeds with the
Liars and thieves
The suffering, the lonely
The broken, the lowly.
God’s with us when it’s good,
That’s right,
But we only really know him
In the fight or the blight
or the night that’s so long
It goes on and on.

God’s not in the sky
He’s up on a cross
Or out looking for the lost.
He’s dead in a tomb
Or where there’s no room
For the pregnant mothers
And others
Who suffer and cry.
No God’s not in the sky.
He’s here on the ground.
And if we want God
Then we must go down.​

So come close and you will see
That these phylacteries
Once so dear to me
Are empty of their quality.
The further up I’ve gone
The further I have gone from God.
I don’t regret the letters I have learned,
Only that the letters I have earned
Have turned this golden boy
Into a golden calf, a toy,
A wooden idol, bow down,
If only I could bend down
And see my way is on the ground.

Those three letters R. E. V.
mean nothing to me
If they are a ladder to the sky
Lift me high? No bring me low.
I am no reverend,
Not to be revered,
Maybe loved, but not feared.

I have arrived.
Punch my ticket--
Incarnation is my station.
I will not transcend, no
I will descend.
I have no plans beyond this loam
This world is my home.

I desire only to be known
So that I may know
The God who sees me
Who frees me, who sends me
And receives me,
Who is pleased with me,
knows me more deeply
Then I will ever know me.

Greatness. Prestige.
I call that vanity and I believe
It was never meant for me.
I will die in obscurity.
And that is how it’s meant to be.
Because with God there is no obscurity.
God knows us all intimately.
Your destiny is in the dirt,
But the dirt is holy, you see
Because it was created by a deity
And proclaimed good in its infancy .
So good that God came to me
And you as an infant, he
Became a human being, see
Because human is a good thing to be.

Do not believe the lie
That you must be more than you are.
You are much better by far
When you are exactly who you are.
God created you to be you
But we lie our way to someone new
We struggle and fight our way up to God
Only to find God down here in the sod.
Stop staring at heaven—Yes, he reigns on high,
But rain was meant to fall straight out of the sky.
Instead look to earth, he is standing by your side.
He’s heading for the cross,
So follow in his stride.

Take the path of descent.
I know this world is bent
Let’s not pretend any different.
The world is broken, it is bent
And that’s why God rent
the clouds, to come down
And pitch his tent.
So go down, low down,
Far from the achievements
And successes and appeasements,
Down among the bereavement,
In the night, when the light
Has failed and it’s dark,
Look deep inside yourself.
Christ is there in your heart.

Amen.