Proper 20B  |  Mark 9:30-37

Jesus predicts his coming death a second time. And the response here is completely different than the first time.

Last week, we read about how Jesus was asking his followers what people are saying about him—who they think he is. Then he asks who the disciples say he is. This is actually a pretty tricky question—and interrogates, not what they believe exactly, but what they speak—which can be completely different. And I know you all know how.

So Jesus asks this, Peter steps up and says “The Messiah” and like that, feels like he’s at the head of the class. So when Jesus says that he’s heading to Jerusalem where his critics will arrest him and send him off to be executed, Peter steps up again to say, Not gonna happen, teach! I’ll be there to stop them! Which is the wrong answer, isn’t it?

Why? Two reasons. One: it is getting in the way of God’s work. Two: it is trying to control God in the same way empires do. This is not how we roll.

So it seems natural that when Jesus brings up the idea of dying a second time, none of these disciples, including Peter, is going to stick his foot in his mouth, right? They learned their lesson, didn’t they?

Well…not exactly. It isn’t that they are keeping their mouths shut because of Peter last time. They’ve all been putting their feet in their mouths.

This story is pretty straightforward. 

A second Passion Prediction. This time it is followed up by silence because the disciples were too busy arguing about which of them was at the head of the class. Who among them is first, best, at the top of the pyramid, king of the hill.

Everyone here who has followed along should see the problem! The first shall be last and the last should be first means their arguing is actually revealing which of them is the worst and least empowered in the Kin-dom.

So there is a kind of evident quality to this story. We should know intuitively that the disciples are behaving badly and why.

But I want us to connect that to the wider context. And why these disciples who really should know better are themselves so confused by the moment. Because, not only is that less evident here, but that is something we can see in our world, can’t we? People who should get the problem don’t.

Chapter Eight is the hingepoint.

That’s when Jesus turns his face to Jerusalem and moves his attention from showing the disciples how to embody the dream of God in their world to embodying the dream of God in the midst of persecution. Because Jesus is heading to confront Rome’s control over the Temple system in Jerusalem and the disciples are witnesses to this.

And right before this hingepoint, Jesus expanded his vision beyond the Hebrew people to include those outside of the faith and those compelled to come to him in faith. So when Jesus gives the disciples this midterm exam, he’s inviting them to share how they see this moment, this work, this dream as it expands and grows.

This isn’t just a matter of who Jesus is like the answer to a test question. It is who he is in community, the world, among people who are discovering the good news for the very first time.

And when we confront the idea of the Messiah, which is a word for a ruler, conqueror, and king because that is the only way people have conceptualized liberation, they struggle to understand that Jesus is attempting the impossible: to liberate the people without conquering, controlling, or dominating others. That the idea of a Messiah is ill-fitting on the shoulders of Jesus when conquering, controlling, and dominating is what the people desire.

He will be dominated. And he will liberate the people.

This is what the disciples continue to misunderstand. What we so often continue to misunderstand. Especially when we expect the church to dominate, forcing our ways upon others. Or when we accept the pattern of the world, which continues to believe that liberation comes through violence. Rather than be a freedom from violence.

Chapter nine exposes the problem.

A week passes between last week’s gospel story and this week’s. And what happens in this time is that Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up a mountain on the Sabbath. And it is there that Jesus’s appearance is changed, he is transfigured. Moses and Elijah come to him and the voice of God speaks to the three disciples, imploring them to listen to Jesus.

Then they descend the mountain in silence. (I love that juxtaposition.)

Then what happens? A man comes to Jesus to exorcize the demon oppressing his son. He asks Jesus because the disciples weren’t able to do that when he was gone.

They could’ve done that in chapter six. Why not now? They ask Jesus that question. They don’t understand what the problem is. And Jesus offers a vague dismissal, saying

“This kind can come out only through prayer.”

I suspect Jesus isn’t speaking of “thoughts and prayers” nor is he implying the disciples didn’t (or don’t) pray. I think it highlights the head problem of the disciples—that they are now in their heads. They are thinking about what they are to do—and are struggling with why it suddenly isn’t working.

Let us not get too distracted by the why here, however. The point is that they have lost ability. Something has stymied them. And it seems to be on them rather than God. 

And their response to this moment is to argue which of them is the greatest. Like athletes trash talking when every one of them is screwing up.

The Way Out

In the midst of all of this inability, confusion, and strange posturing—which, let’s be honest, sounds a lot like the way of the world rather than the Dream of God, doesn’t it?—Jesus draws everyone’s attention to a child. The lowest member of Hebrew society, a person who is ostensibly considered property, famously seen and not heard. He takes a child in his arms and says 

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

Welcoming this child is welcoming Jesus, which is welcoming God.

All of these disciples are talking about how awesome they are, and Jesus says this child is above them all. This child is the one who matters to God far more than any disciple and how they treat her is how they treat God.

This is incredibly convicting to people of every generation. Because we treat our children like the next generation, not our greatest generation now. And this isn’t just about how we use space in our building, or how we order our liturgy, but how we, all of us, tend to put ourselves first and strive for our own greatness. We try to be the best we can be. Jesus says the weakest and the least empowered are the greatest among us.

This is why the disciples can’t heal the child, why their prayers aren’t working any more than our prayers to end gun violence. Because we aren’t putting ourselves in the proper order.

Last week, Peter got out of position, moving from behind Jesus to in front of him. Here, Jesus again focuses on the position of the disciples. Because these great disciples need to make some room at the front of the line for some new faces.

It seems to me then, that the way we see ourselves is our ongoing source of confusion. For all people. The grace in our hearts (or the lack there of) is our great stumbling block. And Jesus shows us that the answer is in our midst.

The lessons from chapter six still stand.

Nothing about what Jesus teaches has changed—it is the context, the increasing fear of death, for ourselves and our institutions, that has us thinking that something has changed. But not in the eyes of Jesus. Not for us. Or for our work.

In chapter six, Jesus sent the disciples out in pairs to preach repentance and to heal people. Not for themselves, but for the poor in this world because they are the greatest in heaven. To visit children and those in need. Outcasts and sinners. Those we’re told to fear or reject. Our work continues to be about bringing Good News to people who need it.

May we commit ourselves to pursuing God’s vision of greatness: to love those the world will not love, empower those with no power, caring for those who are loved only by God. May our hearts be filled with grace and joy at such profound opportunities to care for others. And may we know the joy of such a delightful and faith-filled journey into the heart of our community.