I’ve always thought of myself as a disciple. I’m here every Sunday and contribute as much as I can, even when money is tight. I love our Lord, pray to him often. I’m involved in my parish and I do what I can to give of myself and help others.  I’ve worked hard all of my life and earned everything I have. Success has often been in my grasp and I take great pride in my accomplishments. Security has always been important to me, and to be honest, at times I’ve been sly and hard. I’m a reputable person and I have standing in the community. People look up to me and bring me their problems—it makes me feel important, and, to be honest, I like being the center of attention. I’ve made great sacrifices along the way—I often worked until 7 or 8 pm hoping that all the extra hours would mean more money and better promotions. My wife and children barely saw me, but it was the price I was willing to pay. I gauged my life in terms of success. 

The disciples were like that. Success was on their minds; they saw a great future with Jesus. They were convinced that bigger and better things were in store for them. They were preoccupied with position and power expecting that Jesus would restore Jerusalem to its glory days of old as a military hero and great leader. But instead of talking about greatness, Jesus wants to discuss the most serious thing in his life, his betrayal, suffering, and death—“I will be handed over to men and they will kill me.”  They didn’t understand or maybe they just didn’t want to understand. Who would want to ask a question about that message? It wasn’t the first time that they had turned a deaf ear to him on this subject—they didn’t get it then and they aren’t getting it now. They wanted to talk about who’ll get the top cabinet posts and who’ll be the department managers in Jesus’ administration and he wants to talk about being servants.  They’re worried about winning; about rank and privilege, and he’s talking about being last. The communication gap could not have been greater—to Jesus, this had to be heartbreaking.   

So he took a little child, placed that child among them and said, “This kingdom you’re all seeking, the place you expect me to take you, well if you want to get there you have to be the last of all.” Jesus had a thing for children. They were special to him. He loved to take them in his arms and bless them. He knew how to hold the babies, gently supporting their wobbly necks. Even the toddlers didn’t bother him. He loved it when they’d climb up his back and hug him from behind. He’d often had several in his lap and they’d tug at his whiskers. And all the while there was this big smile and look of delight on his face. Children brought out the best in him just as they bring out the best in us. Whenever we’re with them, we get down on our knees at their level, our eyes meet, their hands explore our faces, our voices change, we sing, laugh, and smile. And for a few wonderful moments, we step out of our world and play in theirs.  

So Jesus tells his disciples, “You see this child . . . who needs to be fed, clothed, washed, taught, and loved . . . the kingdom of heaven belongs to him. You want to know who’s the greatest, look here—thirty-six inches tall, needing everything and giving nothing. Just look here. Welcome this child and welcome all like him—those without status, influence or income; those who struggle to make it through a day; those who are not important; those who can never pay you back. Welcome them and you welcome me.”           

Welcome the little child, be last, be servant. If that’s what being a disciple is really all about, maybe that price is too high. Does Jesus really expect that I’ll give up what I’ve spent a lifetime getting? It’s not like I can let go of my reputation, my status, and portfolio. I can’t undo what’s already been done . . . and I really don’t want to. The message is as threatening today as it ever was and maybe I don’t want to get it. 

 

Who is this child that Jesus was talking about? Who do I need to receive? Who are the poor, the weak, the last in line in my life? Some of us have scarce resources and soft or weak voices and others have deep pockets and wield impressive influence. Each of us has to wrestle with this question on our own and for each of us the answer is different—“What am I doing; is it enough?” As much as I may think I’m doing, maybe there’s someone I’m overlooking; maybe there’s something I’m not doing.  

When I find myself standing just outside the kingdom, when God asks me to show him signs of my discipleship; when He asks me to show him my elbows, knees, and shoulders, will I have the calluses, the scars and the bruises to prove it? Is it then that I’ll finally get it; is it then I’ll understand what Jesus was talking about when he said, “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and servant of all.”  

 

References:

 

Bergant, Dianne and Richard Fragomeni. Preaching the New Lectionary, Year B.

         Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1999.

Buetow, Harold A. All Things Made New, Cycle B. Staten Island: Alba House, 1996.

First Impressions http://www.preacherexchange.com/

Taylor, Barbara Brown. Bread of Angels. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 1997.

Wallace, James A., Robert Waznak, and Guerric DeBona. Lift Up Your Hearts, Homilies and
         Reflections for the “B” Cycle. New York: Paulist Press, 2006.