The King Who Topples Tyrants

Anyone who has been a longtime reader of this blog, and I don't think there are that many of you out there anymore, will likely recognize some of what's here. For the first time in my priestly career, I am doing a "rerun" of the sermon I preached on this text six years ago when I was a seminarian at St. Monica and St. James Capitol Hill in Washington, DC. 

The president was the same man currently occupying the Oval Office. And, sadly, the words I chose six years ago are still very relevant...possibly even more so...than they were in 2019.

I made a few adjustments, added a slightly new beginning, but this is that same sermon. How sad...yet fortunate since I've been down with a nasty head cold...that it remained "fresh." 

See what you think.

Text: Luke 23:33-43

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The Church has been calling this last Sunday after Pentecost “Christ the King Sunday” since the early part of the 20^th century.

Pope Pius XI introduced this idea at the end of World War I…as a counter to growing secularism…and the turmoil in post-war Europe.

The idea being that while governments rise and fall…Christ’s reign is forever.

Yet nothing about this situation described in our Gospel seems fitting for a king.

Let’s consider this scene for a moment.

The man Jesus hangs bloodied and bruised between two criminals.

“Leaders” are shouting at him. And in their taunting, they are calling into question his healing works and undermining faith in his teachings: 

“You saved others; save yourself!” 

Soldiers are also getting in on the act.

They’re making fun of him and laughing as they take articles of his clothing like they are party favors at this execution.

And then there are “the people” who stand by watching.

We don’t know who they are.

We aren’t given details about them.

We can imagine that if they are fellow Jews living in this Roman-occupied state… they might be angry…feeling dejected and hopeless in the face of tyranny…and quite probably afraid. That was the purpose of crucifixion: to instill fear into the hearts of anyone who might dare to stand up to the authority.

Terrorizing people who are powerless is a favorite tactic of bullies and authoritarians.

It’s the way to keep people anxious…uneasy…compliant…and silent. 

What kind of a King dies in such a horrible way…stripped down….his arms outstretched and pinned high above his chest and his head bloodied?

How can a king be hung up on hard wood like a common criminal?

For those who claim earthly power, both then and now, 

Jesus is a joke. 

Encouraging an ethic of love, 

loving the stranger as your neighbor, 

forgiving the wayward one who comes home and says, “I’m a screw up and am not worthy,” 

healing people struggling with all kinds of demons; 

that’s not how a powerful person lives their life.

By earthly standards…such caring and compassionate behavior shows weakness and vulnerability.

Jesus is the embodiment of a person full of empathy…an emotion that some today deride as “toxic.”

But then isn’t it interesting that even though there are three people being crucified, only Jesus draws out the ire of the powerful. 

There is something about Jesus that makes them so bitter that they make a spectacle of his death.

Something about him has a strange pull on them.

He seems to be such a threat to their comfort at the top that they feel they must not only inflict punishment and shame on him; they have to kill him to prove to themselves and others that they are the strong ones here.

Perhaps deep inside their hearts they are also afraid. 

Maybe they sense that he is stronger than them and his strength might expose their own weakness. 

That is the paradox of being a bully, isn’t it?

It’s because they are weak…that the bullies and tyrants of the world act out in destructive ways to mask their own vulnerability. 

It’s why they feel the need to attack and mock others.

In this whole scene there is only one person who sees through all the horror and the mayhem and can fix upon the truth of Jesus. 

And it’s not a soldier. 

Not a leader. 

It’s one of the criminals, another rejected member of society. 

In his own dying moments, this condemned convict looks to Jesus, and in his suffering, he pleads: “Jesus remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

This man knows that Jesus is innocent.

And in his request to be remembered into Jesus’ kingdom he is signaling to us that he has seen below the skin level of Jesus and is perceiving something more.

He is seeing God made incarnate in the flesh.

This man understands that this one…hanging next to him…and experiencing the same torture…is the one who came into the world to 

“preach the gospel to the poor, 

heal the brokenhearted, 

free the captives, 

give sight to the blind, 

and liberate the oppressed.” 

It takes one who is among the broken…one who has been brought low himself…to know the divinity of Christ shining through that bruised and battered skin.

It is one without earthly power who can perceive the real power hanging in agony with him.  

Here again we see the wonderful and un-worldly way that God’s grace works.

Because it is not the prestigious and powerful or the bullies and tyrants who recognize Jesus.

It’s the one who’s been banished to die.

The one who might otherwise have been intimidated into silence.

The one who…realizing that he has done wrong…begs Jesus: remember me.

Remember me when you come into your kingdom. 

What this man sees in Jesus is what so many who have ever found themselves on the margins of society throughout history have seen in the Christ. 

This is the king who can maintain compassion in the face of violent opposition. 

A king who can resist anger and can keep loving all the way to the end. 

A king being unjustly crucified by a corrupt system and yet can still maintain dignity enough to promise Paradise to the repentant criminal. 

If social media had existed in the First Century…Jesus would have been vilified by all those hiding behind their avatars.

Because he is type of king whose power of love and true righteous justice intimidates and topples the bullies who feed on fear and hatred. 

We proclaim Christ as King because…in his dying and then his rising again… Jesus makes a pledge to one on the lowest rung of society that he will restore and liberate him from his worst self…and deliver him from his separation from God. 

If Jesus can say this to a criminal…how much more so do his words apply to us?

How much more is he bringing us into his mission to face the injustices of our time which keep people in poverty…keep them captive to their fears and addictions…and press down upon those who yearn to breathe free?

This promise of being “re-membered” into God’s kingdom is renewed each time we come to this Eucharistic table and receive the body and blood of Christ.

We are being renewed and reinvigorated with a life force…grounded in love…to resist the powers of this world that want to break us.

When we take in Christ we are being given the strength to meet the needs of our community in the mission of God to love those who are lost…alone…or afraid. 

It is through us and our resilience to live into that love that we wear the crowns of our royal priesthood.

And it is in this way…working through us… that Christ reigns as a true king on earth as in heaven. 

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

 

"My Kingdom Is Not From This World" A Sermon for the Last Sunday After Pentecost

 If you have been following this blog with the texts of my sermons, I would hope that you have figured out that while I am a Christian, I do not support the Christian Nationalist agenda that is mobilizing to take control of our government. I do not support the posting of the Ten Commandments in classrooms. I do not support mandate that teachers trained in math or science take on the additional role of being a pastor. I do not want public schools to take the place of the church in any way, shape, or form.  If you want your child to learn about Jesus and to become familiar with the Holy Trinity of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit...please...PLEASE...bring them and yourself to church. We would LOVE to see you on Sunday morning! 

This sermon for "Christ the King" Sunday was my anti-Christian Nationalist sermon in its most explicit sense. There is simply no basis for anyone to ever claim the Jesus of the Bible as one who ever wanted to have a 'nation'; hence all these efforts to use the power of the state to indoctrinate children into the Christian faith run totally counter to what should be our practice as Christians. Our role is not to dominate, but to serve. And through our service, we show the love of God as manifest in Jesus. 

When I preached this sermon at St. Barnabas, not a single person said "Amen." How about you? 

Text: John 18:33-37

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All hail the power of Jesus’s name…O King Divine!

Crown him with many crowns!

Because… on this last Sunday of the eternally long season of  “After Pentecost”…we celebrate Jesus Christ as the King of kings…the Lord of Lords…the most mighty of the mighty….

He’s the top dog!

The big Kahuna!

But…

….he never lifted a weapon.

….never called for bloodshed.

….never proclaimed himself “mighty” or a “king” in that strong man sort of way.

Jesus was never into that type of power.

So as kings go…he’s a really strange one!

That’s why he completely confounds Pontius Pilate.

The brutal and pompous Roman Governor had just arrived in Jerusalem.

He and his army were there for the Passover celebration to make sure those uppity Jews didn’t get any strange ideas about challenging the Empire.

In this Gospel exchange…Pilate is suspicious of Jesus.

 

He seems to have heard a rumor that there was this

Interloper…some weird itinerant rabbi doing amazing deeds among the people.

Some were saying this new guy was a “king.”

Kings…in the minds of the ancient world…weren’t like a King Charles in England…who is just a constitutional figurehead.

A king in the days of the Roman Empire would have much more authority.

They could amass armies and invade territories and pillage and plunder.

Given that there was a lot of discontent among the Jews…and the Zealots were looking for a means to overthrow the Roman Empire…anyone claiming to be a “king” was seen as an insurrectionist.

Pilate was probably expecting this “King of the Jews” to be a more brash and brazen character.

But the Jesus who appears before Pilate doesn’t come in fighting or shouting.

He’s in a simple tunic …not even carrying a stick let alone a sword.

His only weapon is his words. And his words were love.

We might hear the scoffing and incredulous tone in Pilate’s voice:

“Are you…hmmmm….(air quotes) the King of the…ugh…Jews?”

Unphased…and unwavering…Jesus does what a good rabbi does. He responds with a question.

“Do you yourself know this about me or did you get it from somebody else?”

Now Pilate is not only puzzled…but Jesus has just insulted his prejudice.

You see: Pilate despises the Jews…and Jesus just suggested that by asking if he’s the King of the Jews…Pilate must be a Jew himself…looking to address his king.

Pilate angrily dismisses this ridiculous idea that HE is a Jew.

But he’s still operating out of this mindset that a “king” must be some kind of a strong man.

And yet…here’s this non-combative guy playing mind games with him.

He demands to know what’s this really all about?

Why have the Roman sycophants of Judaism turned Jesus over to him?

And that’s when Jesus really messes with Pilate.

“My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over…”

“My kingdom is not from this world.

I am not the leader of any nation.

I am not an authority riding on horseback…or wrapping myself in any flag of any kind.

I do not need nor do I seek power over anyone.”

This is the revolutionary vision of Jesus…the totally countercultural way in which Jesus asserts his kingship.

It’s what we’ve been hearing every week from Mark…which then gets picked up by Matthew and Luke…and each one of them adding a little more to the story here…fleshing out this scene over there.

It’s the Jesus of John’s Gospel…the Jesus who is the Word made into mortal flesh to live…teach…heal…and die as one of us.

Every time the people tried to make Jesus a king in the way it was understood in the First Century…Jesus would somehow manage to dodge the crowd and make his escape.

When he was famished and out in the wilderness and Satan kept whispering in his ear that if he would just give up on God and worship this Tempter of his soul instead…he could be king.

Not just of one country.

He could have the whole world be a single Jesus Nation!

And Jesus said no to it all.

“My kingdom. Is not. From. This. World.”

It’s one of the most curious things about the Christian faith.

Those of us who follow Jesus…have met and come to know God through the life…ministry…death…and resurrection of Jesus…are aligning ourselves not with dominance…and some bullying political power source.

We are following a compassionate man.

A king who rules not from a throne…but from the cross.

We see in this one we call our Savior:  a man who sits down with those who others see as the expendables…and the unimportant of society.

This king was born on the road…in a stable full of animals… to human parents living under an occupation.

From the very start of his earthly life…Jesus’s kingship was to live and move and have a kinship with the vulnerable of creation.

This is not very king-like…even by our standards here in the 21^st Century.

Conventional wisdom of the rest of the world counts the life of this Jesus as weak.

So then what do we make of this idea of the poor and weak…and the willing-to-suffer Jesus being our “king of kings”?

Why is our king not a warrior?

It’s a really tough and sobering question for the church…which was only made more difficult when the Emperor Constantine in the 4^th Century had his big “a-ha” moment…and converted to Christianity and decided that the worldly kingdom of the Roman Empire was now also the kingdom of God.

The Church has gone through ups and downs and schisms and break ups…as generations upon generations call for it to remember as the old hymn says that it’s true “one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord.” (Hymn #525)

And the kingdom of Jesus is not of this world.

The citizenship we hold in this kingdom as ones aligned with Jesus calls us to a different land…and bigger understanding.

We are ask to see beyond borders and barriers.

It’s not about any one nation;

it’s about being called into a relationship that lifts our hearts and minds…our bodies and souls…to a place where there is no longer “us” and “them.”

The kingdom of Jesus is a spiritual and mental shift to put aside all our earthly aspirations to dominate another.

Our citizenship in this kingdom is about transformation…and learning once and for all that we are all siblings…adopted children of God…created for the purposes of helping each other…caring for the disenfranchised among us…rejoicing with one another in good times…while holding space and being present to each other in our moments of pain and doubt.

In African culture…this is called Ubuntu…a recognition of the humanity of another person.

The late Nelson Mandela used Ubuntu as the philosophical practice to help move South Africa beyond its sinful past of apartheid.

It speaks to the idea of human kindness…mutual caring…and connection that builds up a community.

That takes an intentional effort to make it happen.

It takes each person having the willingness to do the work of living and growing into our faith by seeking “peace and justice for all people and respecting the dignity of every human being.” (BCP, 305)

Being at someone’s hospital bedside…taking food and clothing donations to the shelter…preparing meals for people: all of these are examples of the way we put our faith into action…and build and strengthen ourselves and each other. Demonstrate what it means to follow a king of Love.

Growing up into the people of God…standing taller on the side of Love…even in the face of those bullies who call our compassion “foolish” or “weak” in fact makes us stronger…and better citizens of the kingdom of Jesus.

Because to those who are the marginalized…our weakness looks bold and bright and amazing against a backdrop of anger…fear and hatred.

The more visible we are as the followers of a Jesus who served rather than sought to be served…the more we conform our lives to his ways…the more we will be a helper to those seeking love and acceptance.

Earth will become just a little bit more like heaven.

And there will be much rejoicing in the kingdom of Jesus.

In the name of our One Holy and Undivided Trinity.

 

Things Cast Down Being Made New: A Sermon for Proper 28B at Christ the King, Valdosta

 Christ the King Episcopal Church needs prayers. 

They are in the midst of lots of transitions. Their founding rector, the Rev. Stan White, died last year right before Christmas at the time when churches were still navigating how to do their services in the middle of a viral pandemic of catastrophic proportions. The person brought in to steady the ship is my supervising priest and one-time spiritual director, the Rev. Galen Mirate. She was raised up from that congregation and has known them for at least two decades. In the time that she has been with CtK this year, she has steered them through the rough waters of letting go of their old building and moving into another downtown space. She's also had to break the bad news to them that their annual audit uncovered the need for them to tighten up their processes and procedures. 

The Sunday she shared that news I was the scheduled preacher. 

Today, she laid on the assembly at their new dual services of 10am and 2pm the fact that, on December 31st, she is going to say "Good-bye" to them. She has accepted the call to be the Rector of St. Paul's Albany. Albany is not that far, by Georgia standards, from Valdosta. But it is also not CtK. 

And, again, I was the scheduled preacher for the days this news was being delivered to the people. 

Mind you, there is also still a world in which the defense lawyer for the killers of Ahmaud Arbery in Brunswick, GA, apparently complained about "too many black preachers" being in the courtroom (Arbery was the young black man chased and then gunned down by three white men back in February). So there's just lots of stuff swirling in the air. 

And I was called on to preach. And the text was the start of the "little apocalypse" speech from Mark 13...in this case vv 1-8. 

Below is the written form of my sermon. I actually did quite a bit of ad libbing at the start. I have also included the repeat I did of the Collect of the Day at the 10am service. That was my prayer in tribute to the memory of one of my most favorite priests, Fr. Lee Graham of St. John's Tallahassee. Fr. Lee always used these words as his prayer before he preached at the 12:10 Friday services. And he is a priest who endured many challenges in his career, beginning with coming to terms with his own prejudices as a white Southern man from Gainesville who was called to be a priest in Alabama during the early 1960s. The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s campaign for civil rights left an indelible mark on Fr. Lee as he stood up to the white supremacist culture at that time. 

On a Sunday when I was so aware of all that was "out there" in the room, I needed the comfort of this prayer...at least for the morning service. 

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Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for
our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn,
and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever
hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have
given us in our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

 Listening to the start of today’s Gospel…I have to wonder if the disciples are EVER going to “get it.”

It seems as if every time I have preached here…the disciples are saying something that reveals how clueless they are.

Today we hear one of them saying, “Wow, Teacher! What big stones and large buildings!”

And I want to say, “All the better to distract you with, my dear!”

To be sure…the Temple in Jerusalem was apparently quite impressive. The stones were really about the size of a Toyota Prius…and this grand structure…which had already been destroyed once in history…was only half-finished at the time that Mark was writing this Gospel.

This brief exchange about the tearing down of the Temple has often been seen as an analogy about Jesus’ own human body, and how his physical body is about to be brutalized and destroyed in the crucifixion.

But there’s even more going on in this passage. The community who would have first heard this Gospel in First Century Palestine was in midst of a massive upheaval…and civil strife.

Non-Jewish foreigners had started moving into areas set aside for the Jews, which led to ugly clashes between the two groups. And the Jewish community was locked in a bitter struggle with each other over how to deal with their Roman oppressors.

There were several people running around Jerusalem claiming to be the Messiah. And some of those Messiahs were agitating and insisting on taking up arms to overthrow the Empire.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that the culture wars of the First Century sound a little bit like our own, don’t they?

And becoming fixated on the building…it’s size, it’s magnificence…helps to distract from what is the central mission of Jesus, a mission that is going to lead to conflict with the ruling class.

This passage…sometimes called the “little apocalypse”…all sounds pretty doomsday.

Wars, rumors of wars, famine.

Things are falling apart.

The world…as they know it…is about to be rocked by earthquakes (there actually was one that hit in that region of the world).

This great huge temple…the center of their worship…and a place of pilgrimage…is going to be destroyed…again.

And even in the middle of all this chaos…Jesus’ message is not so much, “Don’t worry, be happy,” but more “don’t worry, because something new is coming.”

Maybe it’s because I’m slowly starting to put my mind to planning my ordination service, but the phrase, “things that were cast down are being raised up” has been rattling around in my brain and seems to be fitting for this particular reading…and especially at this time for our congregation.

I mean, here we are, in a building that’s not quite finished.

When folks have asked me if Christ the King has moved into its new building, I happily respond “Yes!”

When they ask what’s it like, I respond cheerfully, “It’s rustic!”

The building can become a fixation, but there is more to the life of this parish than whatever issues might be going on with the construction.

This is a time when we are moving from all things that have been familiar into lots of new…and unchartered waters.

There are two basic lessons of hope that I think might mitigate for all the talk of destruction in this passage.

The first is that Jesus is not one of those “Messiah” figures calling for a war with the Roman Empire.

It’s not that Jesus is down with the oppression. He definitely is not.

But the revolution Jesus is leading is not one fought with swords. He’s looking for the deeper more lasting change of hearts and minds. The new thing he has in mind will not happen by brute force, but by steadfast compassion. And in many ways, that’s a lot more dangerous to those wanting to maintain the status quo. It’s easier for an Empire to squash a rebellion that’s led with clubs and spears than one of the Spirit based in thoughts and ideas.

The other lesson I think we can draw out of this Gospel passage is contained in the last sentence:

“This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.”

When we think about birth pangs…we get a sense of the intensity of sensation a woman experiences in labor…and the fear associated with childbirth. It’s not a given that a woman will survive giving birth. And this is serving as the metaphor for what happens during times of unrest in the world.

There is the pushing and struggling and stretching open as the world enters into the white-knuckled strain of giving up on old ways, outdated beliefs to make room for what is new. There is resistance to the changes that are coming…just as Jesus’ Love Revolution faced opposition. But when change is a comin’, it comes with abundance and you cannot push it back.

Once the world has moved through the topsy-turvy toil of labor…with all the huffing and puffing and gritting of teeth…new life emerges.

A calm descends.

Breathing is easier.

The tears shed are part relief, part joy, part exhaustion.

Life is now ready to journey on in a new way, and a new path.

And there is great rejoicing!

The difficulties we encounter through all those birth pangs aren’t necessarily forgotten, but they aren’t a punishment.

It’s a period of refinement and preparation for becoming something even better than what had existed before.

Change is not easy, but just as giving birth results in that breathtaking moment of a new life realized into the world…we can’t lose sight of the fact that the things being cast down now are being made into something new. There is good at the other end of this struggle.

The trick is for us not to get discouraged or give up in the midst of all this change.

God is still present.

May we keep hope for the future even when things might feel strange or unfinished and out-of-sorts.

And now let the church say, “Amen.”

 

Leggo the Ego: A Sermon for Christ the King, Proper 24 Year B

 

The weirdest thing about my transitional diaconate has been the bouncing back and forth between two parishes in the same city. It's been hard to keep track of who is who, and to keep in mind what is happening in the life of the two places. I have a much better grasp of St. Barnabas, and that's not saying a lot because it seems like every week, I learn some other details that I had not known before. The one thing I do know about Christ the King is that it is a parish moving into new life in so many ways. Working with a small group of parishioners to craft the Prayers of the People has been enormously helpful as has been having a supervising priest who is generous in sharing with me about life inside this parish still recovering from the death of their founder and only pastor. 

The Gospel of Mark 10:35-45 is the primary text from which this sermon was born...with a little side of Job 38 with God's answers to Job's lamentable lament.

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James and John, the Sons of Thunder. I mean!!

Did you hear what they just said?

Did you hear what these two blessed disciples have asked of Jesus?!

“Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”

“Hmm…kay…What is it you want me to do for you?”

“Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”

I mean!!

Here’s the thing: this request comes after Jesus has…one more time…told them what’s about to happen to him.

I know we didn’t read this part of the Gospel today, but I want you to hear what immediately precedes James and John’s burning desire to be on the right and the left of Jesus:

Here’s Mark’s gospel…chapter 10…verses 32-34

They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.’

OK…so that’s what they just heard. And now they make this request?

Jesus just said:  

“There’s a showdown coming. The bullies are going to give me over to the Empire, and the tyrants of the Empire are going to put me through hell, kill me, and then I will rise again.

And you want to be where?!”

(And for those of us who know how this story goes…we know that the ones who literally will hang on Jesus’ left and right at Calvary are the condemned criminals…the outcasts…the powerless of society).

This is the third time Jesus has told the disciples in Mark’s Gospel what is going to happen when they finally reach Jerusalem.

And still… these two sons of Zebedee don’t seem to be hearing what Jesus is saying. He has been trying to tell them “I’m not the kind of leader who wants political power. I am not going to march you into battle with swords and spears. I’m leading a different type of revolution.”

He’s not into domination. He’s into service to others.

“Whoever wishes to be first must serve all.”

One time when I went to Atlanta with my wife, she was attending a conference of some kind and I was tagging along for the fun of a short holiday…I decided to go visit Ebenezer Baptist Church where the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his family had served.

It was a weekday mid-morning, so there weren’t other people around. In the sanctuary of the church, they had a recording of Dr. King’s sermon, which he called “the Drum Major Instinct”, playing on repeat.

I took a seat in one of the pews and listened as his voice boomed in the space. Some parts of the recording had shown the wear and tear that happens to reel-to-reel tape and so there were some garbled moments and skips. But it was his voice and his preaching. And the scripture text was this same one we heard this morning from Mark’s Gospel.

King described that the phenomenon at play with James and John is the same Drum Major Instinct…that need to be at the front of the parade…that has plagued all of us forever and a day.

So while we may want to scoff at these sons of Zebedee, if we were really honest with ourselves, we are just as likely to succumb to this need of our ego.

The ego expresses need when we see the advertisement that tells us how our lives will be so much better with this or that product.

Our ego is what drives us to want to be better than somebody else. It’s the ego that leads to the need to dominate other people.

On a much bigger scale…it’s what keeps the nations battling to be the top dog.

It’s all part of that Drum Major Instinct.

But King also pointed out that Jesus didn’t condemn that instinct. Rather Jesus praises that instinct…if it is reordered and redirected toward service.

The mark of true greatness is not about us having the nicest house and living in the best part of town.

True greatness is rewarded and recognized in the way we strive for justice for the disinherited…

the way we feed the hungry…

the way we treat people struggling to make ends meet.

That’s what Jesus wanted James and John to understand.

“Follow me into being a revolutionary for peace and love and justice and your greatness will be seen in the eyes of those who are seeking kindness and equity.”

That is the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves.

I’ve been talking as if James and John were just arrogant fools who didn’t get the message the first time

or the second

or third time about what it means to be on Jesus’ left and right in glory.

But what if they did understand it?

What if their request is born out of a place of realizing that he’s serious about the confrontation he is about to have with the Empire in Jerusalem?

What if James and John aren’t making their request out of arrogance, but out of fear or need for security?

This is something a commentator raised and I think it’s an interesting thought and so much of it depends on how we read this story.

Again…if we look at what’s in that short section before this exchange with James and John…we read that Jesus and the disciples are “on the road heading to Jerusalem” and Jesus is “walking ahead of them and they were amazed…and those who followed were afraid.” (Mark 10:32b) 

If James and John are followers and are afraid, what is that fear?

Are they wanting to flank Jesus, maybe be his loyal protectors against viciousness and cruelty in Jerusalem? Provide Jesus security and in turn secure themselves?

I’ve seen this behavior before.

There are people who feel God is in danger and they must defend God against whatever perceived attack might be happening against the Almighty.

But I hope we have seen in the reading from Job, God is quite capable of handling all complaints and anger and vitriol any one of us might spew at God at any point in time.

I have enough confidence that my Creator is a lot bigger and stronger and infinitely more patient, powerful, and wise than me and as Proverbs says, there’s nothing new under the sun, so God can take care of God’s self.

But fear and that need for security is a big motivator for us. And just like arrogance…it can deceive us into taking actions and making decisions that ultimately keep us from fully living into our baptism to follow Jesus.

Fear of others is what leads to gated communities.

Fear of others is what keeps us from providing public transportation.

Fear is what keeps us in these polarized places of us and them.

Fear is what picks up a gun to settle an argument. 

But fear is the opposite of faith. And the one phrase that gets repeated over and over in scripture, in both the Old and New Testaments: “Do. Not. Be. Afraid.”

Once more…Jesus tells John and James and us: true greatness is not to be found by sealing ourselves off from one another. True greatness comes in seeing each other and serving each other as children of One God.

As Dr. King noted in his sermon…the best part about this type of servanthood is that doesn’t require special training, or extra schooling.

And I will add one does not need to be ordained.

Ordained leaders can be icons that you look to for an example of service. But we are all called by Jesus to serve each other and our community with a heart full of grace and a souls fueled by love.

As we prepare to enter our new church home downtown what does service look like for Christ the King Episcopal Church?

What are the needs we can meet?

Who are the disinherited we can invite in?

How can we live into our Baptismal Covenant as we ‘strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being?’ (BCP, 305).

May we resist the temptation of arrogance or fear as we seek out and serve those looking for loving-kindness.

And let the church say…

Amen.