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. Comments are closed.
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