Who is the greatest?

Audio version here

James 3.13-4.3, 7-8a, Mark 9.30-37

“What were you arguing about on the way?” asks Jesus of his disciples. An awkward silence follows… No one answers.

 

But it turns out that Jesus already knows, and maybe that’s no surprise, because, in a sense, every argument is really about who is the greatest, as theirs has been. It almost defines the difference between a discussion and an argument. In a discussion we may have different views, but we’re open to listen to and learn from each other. It becomes an argument when we feel we just want to win, whether we’re right or wrong.

 

There’s an old folktale told about two villages which stood on opposite sides of a long valley. One day a stranger appeared, going who knows where, who knows why, walking down the length of the valley. He was wearing a coat which was blue on the right side, and red on the left. Later on, one of the people from one village was talking to a villager from the other. “Did you see that chap in the fine blue coat walking down the valley earlier? “, “Blue coat? What do you mean, ‘blue coat’? His coat was red – I saw it with my own eyes.” Neither of them would back down. Each insisted they were right, and pretty soon the squabble had spread to the rest of the people in the villages. One village insisted the coat was blue, the other swore blind it was red, even though most of them hadn’t even seen the stranger. Eventually the argument turned to fighting, and the fighting turned to war, and within months the villages had destroyed each other. Nothing was left but smoking ruins.  Soon afterwards, wherever it was the stranger had been going, for whatever reason, he appeared again, going back the way he had come, along the length of the valley in the other direction, still wearing his coat of blue and red, but this time of course, the red side was facing the village that had insisted the coat was blue, and the blue side was facing the village that had sworn it was red. But no one was around to see it anymore.

 

I don’t know where that powerful, sad little tale originated, but I recognise the dynamics in it. The problem with arguments is that they’re rarely about what they say they’re about. What difference did it make whether the coat was red or blue? None. All that mattered was who won, who came out on top, who got the upper hand – who was the greatest in other words. .

 

It was the same with Jesus’ disciples. He’d been talking about the coming kingdom of God, and they assumed it would just be a bigger, better version of the kingdoms they were familiar with – King Jesus on the throne, with a charmed circle of courtiers around him, his right and left hand men, sharing in the power and privilege. The courts they knew about – of King Herod or the Roman Emperors – were places where people constantly had to jostle for favour and influence, manipulate and manoeuvre, to keep their place. Losing it could mean losing everything, even your life. They couldn’t imagine that the kingdom of God would be any different.

 

Jesus had tried to tell them that it wouldn’t be like that. He’d tried to tell them that very soon the only people on his right and left hand would be a pair of thieves and their thrones would be crosses. But his warnings of betrayal, arrest and death sound like failure and weakness and how can they be part of God’s plan? He tries to tell them that greatness in his kingdom will be defined by service not by power and glory, but they don’t want to hear it. How can a powerless servant be great?.

 

Jesus’ response to their confusion is simply to sit down, and summon a little child to his side, a child who happened to be wandering in or around his house in Capernaum – we don’t know whose child it was. And that’s the point. He chose an anonymous toddler, vulnerable, helpless, needy, with nothing to give.

 

“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name”, he says, “welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

 

Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome – four times Jesus uses that word in this one sentence. But what does welcome have to do with the disciples’ squabble about greatness? Why does Jesus think welcome is so crucial? If it doesn’t seem obvious to you, you’re not alone. I had to ponder long and hard too. I thought about what it felt like to welcome someone else, especially someone needy like a small child. And it occurred to me that if we’re going to welcome someone, into our homes, our hearts, our lives, we need to feel confident first that we have the space and the resources to do so. We don’t invite someone to lunch if we think we haven’t even got enough food for ourselves. We think twice about asking someone how they are if we feel we might not have the time or the emotional energy to listen to the answer. Welcoming people means opening ourselves up to the risk that they might demand something of us, that they might change or challenge us. We won’t want to do that if we’re feeling insecure about ourselves, unsure that there are enough resources to go around. Instead, we put up the barriers, pull up the drawbridge, or come out fighting to defend what we have. We can see this at work in our personal lives, in our families and communities, and on a national and international level.

 

James is spot on in the first reading today. “Where do conflicts and disputes come from?”  he asks. “Do they not come from cravings…within you?” In other words, from our fear that there isn’t enough to go around, that there’s a need for security and love in us which might not be met.

 

James doesn’t just analyse the problem, though. He also suggests the solution. It’s rooted in our attitude to God. “You do not have” he says, “because you do not ask….Draw near to God and he will draw near to you.” Most of us will only ask for things if we believe that the person we’re asking has what we need, and cares about us enough to give it to us. It’s the same with God. It’s only when we’ve understood that he really does love us, and that his welcome to us is unconditional and indestructible that we can feel secure in him, able to be ourselves, needs and all. It’s only when we realise that God has unlimited space in his heart to welcome us into, that we can welcome others. We don’t need to compete for his attention, putting others down or driving them away. There is no danger of the well running dry, if the  well is God.

 

Jesus tells many stories about the limitlessness of God’s resources. He’s like a sower who has so much seed that he can afford to scatter it everywhere, even if some of it falls on the path, or among the thorns or rocks. He’s like a shepherd who doesn’t need to think twice about searching for one lost sheep, or do a cost/benefit analysis to find out whether he can justify the risk and trouble. He’s like a father who welcomes back the son who’s wasted his inheritance, without stopping to think that he might do the same all over again with anything else he gives him. There’s no shortage or scarcity in God, so we don’t need to worry about whether we are the greatest in his eyes. We don’t need to compete for his favour. We don’t need to strive for worldly possessions or power or fame to make ourselves feel worthwhile, because we are infinitely worthwhile to him. There’s nothing we can do to earn his love, or to lose it. There is no less for us if he gives it to others too. We don’t need to push others out so there is room for us. Like that small child Jesus takes in his arms, we don’t have to prove our usefulness to him to ensure that we’re safe in his affection.

 

Living in the light of that knowledge transforms our relationship with God, giving us a security which nothing can shake, not even death, but that, in its turn, can also transform our relationship with one another, enabling us to lay down our weapons, make space to listen to each other and, perhaps, find the peace which the whole world needs.

Amen  

Who is the greatest?

Audio version here

James 3.13-4.3, 7-8a, Mark 9.30-37

“What were you arguing about on the way?” asks Jesus of his disciples. An awkward silence follows… No one answers.

 

But it turns out that Jesus already knows, and maybe that’s no surprise, because, in a sense, every argument is really about who is the greatest, as theirs has been. It almost defines the difference between a discussion and an argument. In a discussion we may have different views, but we’re open to listen to and learn from each other. It becomes an argument when we feel we just want to win, whether we’re right or wrong.

 

There’s an old folktale told about two villages which stood on opposite sides of a long valley. One day a stranger appeared, going who knows where, who knows why, walking down the length of the valley. He was wearing a coat which was blue on the right side, and red on the left. Later on, one of the people from one village was talking to a villager from the other. “Did you see that chap in the fine blue coat walking down the valley earlier? “, “Blue coat? What do you mean, ‘blue coat’? His coat was red – I saw it with my own eyes.” Neither of them would back down. Each insisted they were right, and pretty soon the squabble had spread to the rest of the people in the villages. One village insisted the coat was blue, the other swore blind it was red, even though most of them hadn’t even seen the stranger. Eventually the argument turned to fighting, and the fighting turned to war, and within months the villages had destroyed each other. Nothing was left but smoking ruins.  Soon afterwards, wherever it was the stranger had been going, for whatever reason, he appeared again, going back the way he had come, along the length of the valley in the other direction, still wearing his coat of blue and red, but this time of course, the red side was facing the village that had insisted the coat was blue, and the blue side was facing the village that had sworn it was red. But no one was around to see it anymore.

 

I don’t know where that powerful, sad little tale originated, but I recognise the dynamics in it. The problem with arguments is that they’re rarely about what they say they’re about. What difference did it make whether the coat was red or blue? None. All that mattered was who won, who came out on top, who got the upper hand – who was the greatest in other words. .

 

It was the same with Jesus’ disciples. He’d been talking about the coming kingdom of God, and they assumed it would just be a bigger, better version of the kingdoms they were familiar with – King Jesus on the throne, with a charmed circle of courtiers around him, his right and left hand men, sharing in the power and privilege. The courts they knew about – of King Herod or the Roman Emperors – were places where people constantly had to jostle for favour and influence, manipulate and manoeuvre, to keep their place. Losing it could mean losing everything, even your life. They couldn’t imagine that the kingdom of God would be any different.

 

Jesus had tried to tell them that it wouldn’t be like that. He’d tried to tell them that very soon the only people on his right and left hand would be a pair of thieves and their thrones would be crosses. But his warnings of betrayal, arrest and death sound like failure and weakness and how can they be part of God’s plan? He tries to tell them that greatness in his kingdom will be defined by service not by power and glory, but they don’t want to hear it. How can a powerless servant be great?.

 

Jesus’ response to their confusion is simply to sit down, and summon a little child to his side, a child who happened to be wandering in or around his house in Capernaum – we don’t know whose child it was. And that’s the point. He chose an anonymous toddler, vulnerable, helpless, needy, with nothing to give.

 

“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name”, he says, “welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

 

Welcome, welcome, welcome, welcome – four times Jesus uses that word in this one sentence. But what does welcome have to do with the disciples’ squabble about greatness? Why does Jesus think welcome is so crucial? If it doesn’t seem obvious to you, you’re not alone. I had to ponder long and hard too. I thought about what it felt like to welcome someone else, especially someone needy like a small child. And it occurred to me that if we’re going to welcome someone, into our homes, our hearts, our lives, we need to feel confident first that we have the space and the resources to do so. We don’t invite someone to lunch if we think we haven’t even got enough food for ourselves. We think twice about asking someone how they are if we feel we might not have the time or the emotional energy to listen to the answer. Welcoming people means opening ourselves up to the risk that they might demand something of us, that they might change or challenge us. We won’t want to do that if we’re feeling insecure about ourselves, unsure that there are enough resources to go around. Instead, we put up the barriers, pull up the drawbridge, or come out fighting to defend what we have. We can see this at work in our personal lives, in our families and communities, and on a national and international level.

 

James is spot on in the first reading today. “Where do conflicts and disputes come from?”  he asks. “Do they not come from cravings…within you?” In other words, from our fear that there isn’t enough to go around, that there’s a need for security and love in us which might not be met.

 

James doesn’t just analyse the problem, though. He also suggests the solution. It’s rooted in our attitude to God. “You do not have” he says, “because you do not ask….Draw near to God and he will draw near to you.” Most of us will only ask for things if we believe that the person we’re asking has what we need, and cares about us enough to give it to us. It’s the same with God. It’s only when we’ve understood that he really does love us, and that his welcome to us is unconditional and indestructible that we can feel secure in him, able to be ourselves, needs and all. It’s only when we realise that God has unlimited space in his heart to welcome us into, that we can welcome others. We don’t need to compete for his attention, putting others down or driving them away. There is no danger of the well running dry, if the  well is God.

 

Jesus tells many stories about the limitlessness of God’s resources. He’s like a sower who has so much seed that he can afford to scatter it everywhere, even if some of it falls on the path, or among the thorns or rocks. He’s like a shepherd who doesn’t need to think twice about searching for one lost sheep, or do a cost/benefit analysis to find out whether he can justify the risk and trouble. He’s like a father who welcomes back the son who’s wasted his inheritance, without stopping to think that he might do the same all over again with anything else he gives him. There’s no shortage or scarcity in God, so we don’t need to worry about whether we are the greatest in his eyes. We don’t need to compete for his favour. We don’t need to strive for worldly possessions or power or fame to make ourselves feel worthwhile, because we are infinitely worthwhile to him. There’s nothing we can do to earn his love, or to lose it. There is no less for us if he gives it to others too. We don’t need to push others out so there is room for us. Like that small child Jesus takes in his arms, we don’t have to prove our usefulness to him to ensure that we’re safe in his affection.

 

Living in the light of that knowledge transforms our relationship with God, giving us a security which nothing can shake, not even death, but that, in its turn, can also transform our relationship with one another, enabling us to lay down our weapons, make space to listen to each other and, perhaps, find the peace which the whole world needs.

Amen  

'Who do you say that I am?'

 Mark 8. 27-38, Isaiah 50.4-9

Those of us able to attend Keith Blackburn’s funeral recently heard his son Simon speak of his life and the not inconsiderable achievements.

To many of us Keith was our priest at this church for many years and that is how we knew him and related to him.  Within this role many will have had personal experiences that helped them know him better. Whether developing and articulating their faith through to the many rituals of life in  church. 

Those present at his funeral knew him as grandfather, father, friend, priest, colleague and in other ways.

Sadly, I’m currently working with others to prepare the funeral service of a much loved friend and it’s a reflection of his huge popularity that so many want to make a personal contribution. If we asked the question ‘who do people say I am of him’, his wife would say ‘the love of her life’, others a trusted and valued friend since school days (a real friend with lived out shared experiences not some person off facebook), others my buddy to watch Arsenal FC over the decades, going all the way back to when they used to win major trophies, my son his Godfather, and I could go on.

So far I have 6 people wanting to speak, a similar number wanting to act as pall bearers and many others preparing personal tributes.

I find it interesting to think of people not so much for the context in which we know them, the labels they acquire in society as lawyer, mum, politician, organiser or whatever but by considering what is really at their core, fairness, loyalty, compassion, courage, love.

I hope that it’s helpful to start thinking about our relationships and experiences of those who are important in our lives as we begin reflecting on how we know Jesus. 

The point is that there is a danger of seeing Christ as a far off, heavenly figure and if we do this our relationship with him is all the poorer for it, real friends aren’t afraid to get involved in every aspect of our lives, good and bad.

You may have friends that divide opinion, cause speculation and gossip or even some who just leave others confused as they try to fathom what ‘makes them tick.’

It seems to be similar with Jesus, his disciples have been asked who he is, what is his agenda, some suggesting that he’s a revolutionary, some even accusing him of being demon possessed.

Yet when Jesus asks the disciples ‘who do people say I am’ they seem to answer him with traditional British politeness suggesting only religious figures. Perhaps this comes back to the point about how our true friends reflect something about ourselves and the disciples don’t want others to judge them as people who choose the wrong company.

If their answers are diplomatic at this stage Jesus suddenly makes this all incredibly personal, ‘what about you, who do you say I am?’

You can sense the disciples brains whirring as they consider how to answer, do they risk looking stupid in front of the others? 

It doesn’t say it anywhere but I bet there was an awkward silence before Peter plucked up the courage to say who he hoped and believed Jesus to be and how he identified himself in all this as he blurts out ‘You are the Messiah’.

Peter was confessing Jesus to be the Christ, the Messiah, the anointed one, and the one promised by the prophets of old.

Having pushed the disciples for an answer, having received acknowledgment from Peter it’s almost as if Jesus Immediately rows back on the rhetoric, intimating a sort of OK don’t shout about it, before launching into an explanation of the suffering that the Messiah must endure.

Oh dear, this wasn’t the kind of Messiah Peter was thinking of, rejection by religious leaders, suffering and death, what is messianic about that, and where does it leave Peter who saw himself as a leading figure who would be important once Jesus came to power?

If this wasn’t bad enough Peter is embarrassed further when Jesus explains to the crowd how they must take up their cross and follow him. They knew the cross to be a place where criminals were punished and degraded so clearly following Christ wasn’t a soft option. As a friend of mine always says when he hears some grim proposal, ‘mmm you’re not selling it much!’ 

What we don’t hear from Mark’s account is how many people left that day, deciding that this was too much for them. 

As Jesus reveals more and more about his identity and destiny so those who choose to stick with him start to understand  who they are. This is important because for us as individuals and the for the various communities we form as we learn to support and encourage each other with a common purpose.

I guess if we discovered that a friend was thinking what can I get from this relationship, perhaps I can bask in the glow when they succeed, get some favours when they hold power, we wouldn’t consider them a friend at all. What about real relationships that seek nothing, which are prepared to support and accompany those at times of suffering, this is the mark of true friendship, of love and this is the way of Christ.

              

Jesus had already rejected offers of worldly power when he faced temptation in the desert and makes his point strongly, warning against the prioritisation of such things over a faith that is prepared to make sacrifices and value the love of God above all else. 

We heard beautiful words from the Prophet Isaiah, worth reflecting upon and seeking out for ourselves, a picture of what God offers us ‘ He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught’.

Perhaps it would help us to recall these words as we awaken each day, even if we feel low or have worries, if our ears, hearts and minds are open to seeing God in all things, the potential of learning from him greatly increases. God is the great communicator, able to ‘sustain the weary with a word.’

I read Jane Williams said that, ‘In Jesus, God’s spoken word is lived and God’s lived word is spoken, because in God there is never any separation between word and act’.

Like many of us the people of Jesus’ time try to make God’s Word fit comfortably with their lives, their priorities, their sometimes warped values and this is what Jesus came to make clear was simply wrong. ‘Get behind me Satan!’ was language intended to shock and to remind hearers that old priorities need to be left behind if we follow Christ.

When we pull all these things together, our personal experience of life and people, the love for us shown by God in Jesus, his offer of resurrection life and the offer to accompany us day by day we can then attempt to answer the question ‘who do you say I am’ in a personal capacity.

It’s something we can all benefit from doing as it also defines who we are and who we have potential to be.

Amen

Kevin Bright

12th September 2021

'Who do you say that I am?'

 Mark 8. 27-38, Isaiah 50.4-9

Those of us able to attend Keith Blackburn’s funeral recently heard his son Simon speak of his life and the not inconsiderable achievements.

To many of us Keith was our priest at this church for many years and that is how we knew him and related to him.  Within this role many will have had personal experiences that helped them know him better. Whether developing and articulating their faith through to the many rituals of life in  church. 

Those present at his funeral knew him as grandfather, father, friend, priest, colleague and in other ways.

Sadly, I’m currently working with others to prepare the funeral service of a much loved friend and it’s a reflection of his huge popularity that so many want to make a personal contribution. If we asked the question ‘who do people say I am of him’, his wife would say ‘the love of her life’, others a trusted and valued friend since school days (a real friend with lived out shared experiences not some person off facebook), others my buddy to watch Arsenal FC over the decades, going all the way back to when they used to win major trophies, my son his Godfather, and I could go on.

So far I have 6 people wanting to speak, a similar number wanting to act as pall bearers and many others preparing personal tributes.

I find it interesting to think of people not so much for the context in which we know them, the labels they acquire in society as lawyer, mum, politician, organiser or whatever but by considering what is really at their core, fairness, loyalty, compassion, courage, love.

I hope that it’s helpful to start thinking about our relationships and experiences of those who are important in our lives as we begin reflecting on how we know Jesus. 

The point is that there is a danger of seeing Christ as a far off, heavenly figure and if we do this our relationship with him is all the poorer for it, real friends aren’t afraid to get involved in every aspect of our lives, good and bad.

You may have friends that divide opinion, cause speculation and gossip or even some who just leave others confused as they try to fathom what ‘makes them tick.’

It seems to be similar with Jesus, his disciples have been asked who he is, what is his agenda, some suggesting that he’s a revolutionary, some even accusing him of being demon possessed.

Yet when Jesus asks the disciples ‘who do people say I am’ they seem to answer him with traditional British politeness suggesting only religious figures. Perhaps this comes back to the point about how our true friends reflect something about ourselves and the disciples don’t want others to judge them as people who choose the wrong company.

If their answers are diplomatic at this stage Jesus suddenly makes this all incredibly personal, ‘what about you, who do you say I am?’

You can sense the disciples brains whirring as they consider how to answer, do they risk looking stupid in front of the others? 

It doesn’t say it anywhere but I bet there was an awkward silence before Peter plucked up the courage to say who he hoped and believed Jesus to be and how he identified himself in all this as he blurts out ‘You are the Messiah’.

Peter was confessing Jesus to be the Christ, the Messiah, the anointed one, and the one promised by the prophets of old.

Having pushed the disciples for an answer, having received acknowledgment from Peter it’s almost as if Jesus Immediately rows back on the rhetoric, intimating a sort of OK don’t shout about it, before launching into an explanation of the suffering that the Messiah must endure.

Oh dear, this wasn’t the kind of Messiah Peter was thinking of, rejection by religious leaders, suffering and death, what is messianic about that, and where does it leave Peter who saw himself as a leading figure who would be important once Jesus came to power?

If this wasn’t bad enough Peter is embarrassed further when Jesus explains to the crowd how they must take up their cross and follow him. They knew the cross to be a place where criminals were punished and degraded so clearly following Christ wasn’t a soft option. As a friend of mine always says when he hears some grim proposal, ‘mmm you’re not selling it much!’ 

What we don’t hear from Mark’s account is how many people left that day, deciding that this was too much for them. 

As Jesus reveals more and more about his identity and destiny so those who choose to stick with him start to understand  who they are. This is important because for us as individuals and the for the various communities we form as we learn to support and encourage each other with a common purpose.

I guess if we discovered that a friend was thinking what can I get from this relationship, perhaps I can bask in the glow when they succeed, get some favours when they hold power, we wouldn’t consider them a friend at all. What about real relationships that seek nothing, which are prepared to support and accompany those at times of suffering, this is the mark of true friendship, of love and this is the way of Christ.

              

Jesus had already rejected offers of worldly power when he faced temptation in the desert and makes his point strongly, warning against the prioritisation of such things over a faith that is prepared to make sacrifices and value the love of God above all else. 

We heard beautiful words from the Prophet Isaiah, worth reflecting upon and seeking out for ourselves, a picture of what God offers us ‘ He wakens me morning by morning, wakens my ear to listen like one being taught’.

Perhaps it would help us to recall these words as we awaken each day, even if we feel low or have worries, if our ears, hearts and minds are open to seeing God in all things, the potential of learning from him greatly increases. God is the great communicator, able to ‘sustain the weary with a word.’

I read Jane Williams said that, ‘In Jesus, God’s spoken word is lived and God’s lived word is spoken, because in God there is never any separation between word and act’.

Like many of us the people of Jesus’ time try to make God’s Word fit comfortably with their lives, their priorities, their sometimes warped values and this is what Jesus came to make clear was simply wrong. ‘Get behind me Satan!’ was language intended to shock and to remind hearers that old priorities need to be left behind if we follow Christ.

When we pull all these things together, our personal experience of life and people, the love for us shown by God in Jesus, his offer of resurrection life and the offer to accompany us day by day we can then attempt to answer the question ‘who do you say I am’ in a personal capacity.

It’s something we can all benefit from doing as it also defines who we are and who we have potential to be.

Amen

Kevin Bright

12th September 2021