Within our reach. October 24, 2021. The Rev. David M. Stoddart

 Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10;46-52

My wife Lori Ann loves to make Ukrainian eggs, and she’s been working on some recently. And that has brought to mind one of my favorite scenes from our annual Easter egg hunts here at COOS. That event has evolved over the years, but it used to be that the whole campus was divided into different age groups. In the section reserved for the oldest kids, the eggs would be seriously hidden — we would still be finding them months later. But the best section was the one right outside the church doors, which was reserved for toddlers. Those eggs weren’t hidden at all: they weren’t under rocks or behind trees, they were just there lying on the grass. And every year, some of the youngest children wouldn’t get it. Their parents would be pointing at the eggs, saying, “Look, look, get the egg!” But the children would look up at the tree or play with their baskets. Meanwhile, the eggs were right there in front of them, just waiting to be picked up. I loved watching it, and I guess it has stayed in my mind as a kind of parable, one which perhaps applies to our lessons today.

One of those lessons, from the letter to the Hebrews, is a remarkable depiction of Jesus as our great high priest. In ancient Israel, it was the role of the high priest to stand as an advocate for all the people before God and to intercede for them. But while those high priests were of course  limited and fallible, Jesus is not. He is the perfect priest, and so, Hebrews says, he is able for all time to save those who approach God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them. Let that phrase linger in your minds for a moment: he always lives to make intercession for them. And them includes us. I don’t know how best to envision that intercession: I don’t think it would be Jesus kneeling in some kind of heavenly pew. What it certainly means, though, is that Christ takes all our human needs and concerns — the hopes, fears, sorrows, and joys of each one of us — and brings them right into the heart of God. And in doing so Jesus always, always seeks what is best for us because Jesus is always, always on our side. We see that illustrated throughout the Gospels and we see it illustrated today. Jesus is walking into Jericho, surrounded by a large crowd. We can imagine it is a noisy and boisterous scene. And a blind beggar named Bartimaeus hears it and calls out to Jesus for help. People around him tell him to shut up and leave Jesus alone, but the man won’t be quiet. And when Jesus himself hears him, the Gospel says, he stood still and said, “Call him here.” He stood still; there is no brief chat while he keeps on walking, no multitasking, no squeezing him in quickly between his other appointments. Jesus stops everything he is doing and gives this man his full attention.

Hebrews is right: Jesus always lives to make intercession for us, each and every one of us. He never grows tired of doing it and he never stops. People sometimes ask, “What would Jesus do?” but in light of this reading, we might also ask, “How would Jesus pray?” And since Jesus is continually interceding for us, what exactly is he asking for on our behalf? When I offer intercessory prayer for myself or for others, I generally know what I want and what I am asking for, but I wonder if that is what Jesus wants and what Jesus is asking for. And since, clearly, our prayers are not all answered as we desire, this seems like a really important question. What does Jesus tirelessly seek for us?

Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus did work for healing and the relief of suffering, but, obviously, Jesus did not eliminate all pain from human existence. So while we rightly pray for healing and work for the relief of suffering ourselves, I question if that is how Jesus primarily intercedes for us. In the heart of the Holy Trinity, in that “place” where Jesus lives to intercede for us, I somehow doubt that Jesus asks the Father to spare me from all sickness, struggle, and suffering in this life. I wish he did, but in my heart of hearts, I wish for something even more than that. I believe the great intercession Jesus makes for me and for every human being is that we realize, we know, our indissoluble union with God and experience the love, joy, peace, and abundant life that goes with it. Abide in me as I abide in you, Jesus teaches us, abide in my love. More than anything else, that is what he wants for us. Everything else flows from that.

And if that is always Jesus’ prayer and always God’s desire for us, then it is always available to us. Which leads me back to those toddlers at the Easter egg hunt, ignoring the eggs that are lying right there within their reach. Many of us, if not all of us, frequently forget that the Holy Spirit lives in us and that, with Christ, we are one with God. Certainly I do. But as distracted as I can be from that great reality, whenever I stop and re-collect myself, that reality is always there. It is the very source of our life. It never goes away. We can ignore it or reject it for a week, a year, a decade, but it is always right there within our reach. And God doesn’t punish us for forgetting it or neglecting it. Whenever we consciously turn to God and seek to renew that deep union we share with God, God rejoices. We may feel a strong upsurge of joy or peace when we do so or we may experience it as a movement of blind faith. It may heal a sickness or relieve a worry; it may just give us strength to bear the burdens of the day. But God will not fail us. Our bond with God is eternal. Even when we take our last breath, God will be there.

And you don’t need to take my word for it. See for yourself: the egg is lying right there — pick it up. Take some moments during your busy days to stop and remember that the Spirit of God lives in you. Spend time in prayer whether you feel like it or not. In periods of struggle or pain, ask yourself, “What does Jesus want for me right now? How is Jesus interceding for me right now?” Discover or rediscover what it means to trust that Christ always lives to make intercession for us. Because he does — and he always will.

 

 

When we seek to serve others. October 17, 2021. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

 

Mark 10:35-45

Salespeople like to say that everyone’s favorite radio station is WIIFM (pronounced Whiff- em). In case you don’t know it, WIIFM is an acronym that stands for “What’s In It For Me?” The assumption that salespeople make, and most other people for that matter, is that people are always motivated to act in their own best self-interest.

We see WIIFM at play in our gospel reading this morning. As the story opens, Jesus is making his way to Jerusalem all the while telling his disciples that torment and death await him there. But this is hard to hear. So in a tone deaf response the brother disciples, James and John speak up. “Teacher,” they say, “we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” Now, that’s bold - and rather offensive and totally full of WIIFM. Yet Jesus responds with patience and even some curiosity, “What is it you want me to do for you?” he asks. Without hesitation the brothers reply, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” Basically, it’s a power grab. They are seeking special status, pride of place.

It’s easy for us to gasp. Or laugh. Or dismiss these two as self-seeking arrogant fools. But Jesus does none of these things. Instead, he takes their request seriously and engages in conversation that is compassionate rather than condemning.

And to be fair, as ridiculously self-centered and off track as this request is, James and John do get a few things right. First, they place their full faith in the right person. Undaunted by Jesus’ gloomy predictions of suffering and death, they really believe that Jesus will ultimately prevail. They’ve put all of their eggs in the Jesus basket. And in addition to that, they are enthusiastic about the reign of God. They want Jesus’ kingdom to come in all of its glory and remake the world. And finally, they ask. They come to Jesus with who they are and what they want. Is the request tacky? Yes. Is it borne of ignorance? Yes. Are the motives behind the request selfish? Yes. And yet that doesn’t stop they from coming to Jesus and asking. They engage in a real relationship with complete honesty. And there must be something about this authentic, unvarnished that Jesus cherishes because remember these two are part of Jesus’ closest circle.

But for all that they get right, there is one key thing that James and John get wrong. And it’s easiest to see when we contrast their “What’s in it for me?” demand with the question Jesus asks in return. It’s really the question he’s always asking, “What is it you want me to do for you?” Not, “Here’s what I want,” or “Here’s what I’m entitled to,” but rather, “I am here to serve. How can I serve you?”

Because what these disciples, and dare I say we disciples, so often fail to understand is that the way to glory is through service. It’s through letting go of our sense of entitlement and privilege and instead entitling and privileging others. Instead of being moved by the WIIFM factor, the question, “What’s in it for me?” Jesus tells us - and more importantly shows us - that true greatness is found in when we ask, “How can I serve you?”

On the surface of our lives we may resist this, but deep down don’t we already know that? For God’s spirit dwelling in us longs to serve. And although some cynics may say that’s not the case - that we are always motivated by self-interest - there’s plenty of research that suggests otherwise.

One example comes from psychologist and podcaster Adam Grant and his colleague David Hoffman. Back in 2011, these two men ran a study that looked at the hand washing behavior of doctors. Now doctors well know that hand washing is key in the prevention of spreading germs. But despite that knowledge, at least ten years ago, doctors were reported to wash their hands only about half as often as they should have. So, in an effort to see if they could motivate more hand washing, the researchers tried two different approaches. One appealed to WIIFM, “What’s in it for me?” So this group of doctors saw signs that read, “Hand hygiene protects you from catching diseases.” The other group of doctors were exposed to slightly different appeal that was patient focused. Their signs said, “Hand hygiene protects patients from catching diseases.” So the difference in messaging was a single word – “you” vs. “patients.”

Now what do you think? Did either sign make a difference? It actually did! It turns out that the WIIFM sign - the one that reminded doctors that handwashing protected them - didn’t change the doctors’ behavior at all. But with the patient focused sign - the one that emphasized that handwashing protected patients - that message resulted in a 45% increase in hand washing!

The study suggested that patient focused sign worked because most people don’t become doctors to make lots of money. Those are nice by-products often but not the core motivation. Usually, people get into healthcare because they want to help others. They desire to serve. And, of course, this doesn’t just apply to doctors. Teachers certainly don’t go into their profession to cash in. Neither do a host of others.  

All of us, no matter who we are or what we do - whether it be professionally or personally, live from our truest selves, our best selves when we seek to serve others. Yes, we all get off track. We can all act entitled. We are quite capable of being self-seeking rather than self-giving. Like the brother disciples, James and John, we are complicated folk. We can get some things really right while getting other things terribly wrong. Yet Jesus is patient and compassionate - not condemning. He is always calling us back to who we truly are. And in whose image we are made. A God of self-giving love. A God who shows us over and over again that the question that truly matters in this world isn’t “What’s in it for me?” But rather, “What can I do for you? How can I serve?” Perhaps if we had that on a sign in front of us, we, too, could improve by at least 45%! Or maybe it starts by letting these words sink deep into our souls, Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant...For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve.

Unload the extra baggage. October 10, 2021. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

 

Mark 10:17-31

It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God. Yikes! A camel through the eye of a needle? No way. And the disciples clearly agree. Astounded, they ask, “Then who can be saved?” Which actually astounds me because if the disciples - the ones who gave up everything to follow Jesus - if they feel pressed by this declaration, if they are identifying as being “someone who is rich,” then we are all in trouble!

And that’s pretty scary - which is why it should come as no surprise that for hundreds of years, starting as far back as the 9th century, efforts have been made to explain this saying of Jesus away. Perhaps you’ve heard it in a sermon or two...the explanation that when Jesus is talking about “the eye of the needle” he’s not really referring to a literal needle but to a particular gate that was used to enter into the walled city of Jerusalem. A passageway that was called “The Eye of the Needle'' was because it was particularly small. So small, in fact, that in order for a camel to go through, it had to be stooped and removed of all of its baggage. So with that image in mind we could hear Jesus’ words as offering us a challenging, but still do-able solution to the camel-needle problem. That is, if we seek to enter the kingdom of God what we must do, like the camel, is to take on a humble posture and unload the extra baggage in our lives. So it seems that a camel can go through the eye of a needle and we “rich” can enter the kingdom of God!

Good news, yes? Actually, no. Because there are two glaring problems with this explanation. The first being that the story of the gate is made up! There is no credible evidence that anything like it ever existed. But, as we all know, fake news dies hard. Especially when it serves us in some way. And this Eye of the Needle Gate story certainly does because it provides us with a tidy explanation to a hard saying. A simple formula - just be humble and unload life’s excess. we are provided with a way to ensure that the power lies with us to make the eternal life/kingdom of God cut. Giving us a sense of control. Because whenever we feel out of control, well that is frightening.

But the second problem with believing this Eye of the Needle Gate story is even more troubling because it causes us to miss the very point Jesus is trying to teach here. The gospel story begins with this unnamed man going to Jesus - actually he doesn’t just go to Jesus, we are told that he runs to Jesus. There’s an urgency to his question. "Good Teacher,” he asks, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?" As the encounter unfolds we learn that this man is a really, really good guy. He follows all the rules. He has worldly success. He treats others kindly. What more can you ask? And yet there is still something missing. Something that he feels he lacks. He’s done everything he is supposed to do and yet it doesn’t seem to be enough. So running to Jesus he asks: what else must I do?

Jesus responds by telling the man to do something that he seemingly can’t do. Now it's not that no one could sell everything and give it to the poor. Some saints in the church, as well as in other faith traditions, have done just that throughout history. But apparently this man can’t. He has many possessions, or maybe it’s more accurate to say that he is possessed by many things. Regardless, he is unable to let his possessions go so instead it is he who goes - goes away grieving.

Now this would be a pretty dark story if it were not for one essential detail. Before Jesus offers this seemingly impossible challenge we are told that Jesus looked at the man and loved him. Hopefully we are all used to hearing that Jesus loves us - at least I pray that is the case. But because that is so, it might be tempting to take it for granted. Yet in the gospel of Mark it’s a big deal. This man is the only person singled out as being specifically loved by Jesus. So if Jesus loved him, why did he give this man such an impossible task? Why did Jesus set him up for failure? It seems so unreasonable. So un-loving.

Un-loving, that is, until we realize that love doesn’t want any of us to stay trapped in the lie that we can do anything to earn our way into God’s good graces. Jesus calls this man to do something that he can’t do, not to condemn him, but to free him by revealing that the eternal, abundant, kingdom of God life doesn't depend on anything we do or don’t do. Because frankly it’s not about us. It’s all about God - and what God does because of who God is: Love.

Anytime you think that your value, your worthiness, your acceptance is based on something you do - that’s fake news. What’s real news, or more precisely, Good News, is just the opposite. You are valued, you are loved, you are accepted not because of anything you do. You are valued, you are loved, you are accepted because you are, just because you exist. God values and loves and accepts you because that is the nature of God. And God loves without conditions or rules or expectations. God doesn’t love you because of what you do: God just loves you.

So what must we do to inherit eternal life? Jesus’ answer to that question is ultimately “Nothing.” He makes that absolutely clear when he says that for mortals it is impossible. Just as impossible as it is for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. But we need not fear because for God all things are possible. And that is why Jesus came, to make the impossible possible for us all. There is nothing for us to do except to let go. For the way of Christ is always about letting go - whether that be letting go of material possessions, false ideas, deep seated fears, hurts, shame, bitterness - really letting go of anything to which we are attached. Because as we let go of such things we are then able to receive what has already been given, what has already been made possible, what is already ours: Life. Eternal, abundant, kingdom of God LIFE.

An opportunity to add more love to this world. October 3, 2021. The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Job 1:1, 2:1-10; Mark 10:2-16

Well, here’s a fun choice for a preacher: I can talk about the agony of Job or the agony of divorce. Any preferences? These are tough readings. I could try to soften their impact. I could point out that Job is an ancient fable from a people whose understanding of God and suffering was still developing. Or I could explain that in Jesus’ time, divorce was exclusively the prerogative of men. Husbands could dismiss their wives easily and unjustly, with potentially catastrophic results for the women who were abandoned — something Jesus clearly did not approve of.

But while that’s true, I’m not going to focus on that. Instead, I feel the Spirit leading me to delve more deeply into the reality that underlies both of these readings, namely the intractable difficulty of life. Bad things happen, they just do — randomly, unfairly, and frequently. And they happen to everyone. No one is exempt from disease, accident, and misfortune. And it’s not just that terrible things happen to people, but people often do terrible things, to themselves and to others. In Men’s Bible Study, we sometimes make reference to Francis Spufford’s definition of sin, summed up in the acronym HPTFTU, the “human propensity to f*** things up,” which appears to be an inveterate tendency shared by all. Even when we don’t mean to, we can still mess up and hurt ourselves, our relationships, and our world. So whether we are talking about a good man being afflicted with loathsome sores all over his body or a woman being coldly dismissed by her husband through divorce or a pandemic or any other calamity that can befall us, there’s plenty of suffering to go around. And even though God doesn’t directly cause these bad things to happen, God obviously allows them to happen. In fact, since this is God’s creation, we can even agree with the spiritual writer Eckhart Tolle when he asserts that “life is designed for things to go wrong.” Because they certainly do.

What are we to do with this? Well, the Gospel today tells us what not to do with it: at all costs, we need to avoid hardness of heart. Not an easy task. In the midst of anguish and difficulty, it would be easy to throw up our hands and give into despair. Or we could become angry and embittered. Or we could numb ourselves, forget everything, and just focus on our own pleasures. But all of these would involve hardening our hearts, closing down emotionally and refusing to engage compassionately with the world around us. And the results of that are not pretty. When those Pharisees — all of them men — confront Jesus and try to defend their cruelty by invoking the law of Moses which allows them to discard a wife so easily, Jesus says it’s because of your hardness of heart that Moses wrote this commandment for you.

But here’s what God promises through the prophet Ezekiel: A new heart I will give you and a new spirit I will put within you; and I will remove from your body the heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26). What does that look like? It looks like Jesus. He’s around suffering all.the.time, but his heart is never hardened. He has compassion on the sick and the outcast; he weeps at the grave of Lazarus. For him, every misfortune, whether it’s caused by some random act of nature or by human sin, is an opportunity to add more love to this world. Even when he is dying on the cross, Jesus shows love by forgiving his executioners and offering paradise to the man hanging next to him.

I don’t know why life is designed for things to go wrong, but I do believe it is possible that God creates the universe the way it is precisely to enlarge the experience of love. This is not a message I would offer in most pastoral situations, like at the bedside of someone who is gravely ill or in my office with someone in distress. When we are hurting, we want it to end; when we encounter suffering, our job is to provide relief and comfort. But here in worship, when we have an opportunity to see the big picture and to remember who we are in Christ, then I think it is both honest and necessary to affirm that hardship can and should foster greater love. I have seen this played out countless times, as families rally around sick relatives and as this parish community responds to the needs of our own members and the world around us. We don’t want suffering and death to happen to us or the people closest to us, and yet it is so often those very things which remind us of what truly matters and which call forth from us astonishing amounts of love, kindness, and compassion.

The key is maintaining an open and supple heart. There are many ways of doing that, I suppose, but for me, the one great way is to follow Jesus and practice the presence of God in moments of pain, practice seeing the love of God breaking through even in moments of agony. I see that love in the tears of people who grieve and it helps my heart not to shut down. When someone enrages me, the one thing that keeps my heart open is trying to view that person the way Christ does, to see the pain or the fear which makes them act the way they do. I catch myself wanting to shut down so often, but just asking myself the simple question, “How does God’s love want to express itself through me in this situation?” helps me stay open and vulnerable, not hardened and condemning. This is the way of Jesus: it takes courage, and we will often fail, but even attempting it softens our hearts so that love can abound. And there is just no end to what God’s love can accomplish through open and receptive hearts.

There was a poem found by the body of a dead child in the Ravensbrück concentration camp which beautifully expresses what I am trying to say, so I will end with it. In a hellish place where one could expect all hearts to be hardened, this poem was an open-hearted prayer:

O Lord, remember not only the men and women

Of good will, but also those of ill will.

But do not remember all the suffering they inflicted on us;

Remember the fruits we have bought, thanks to

This suffering — our comradeship,

Our loyalty, our humility, our courage,

Our generosity, our greatness of heart

Which has grown out of all this, and when

They come to judgment let all the fruits

Which we have borne be their forgiveness. Amen.^[1]

---

^[1] Quoted in The Wisdom Christ by Cynthia Bourgeault (Shambhala, 2008), pp. 73-74.

Stumbling blocks. September 27, 2021. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Mark 9:39-50

“Yeah, but…” I’m not particularly fond of that phrase. It’s often used when someone wants to passively dismiss what was just said in order to deflect the attention elsewhere. Like back in the day when my kids were young I would often hear this, “Yeah, but…” Like when I would make a request. “Please take off your muddy shoes before coming into the house.” “Yeah, but…” would come the quick reply, “brother didn’t do it!” Or to another, I’d ask to clear the table and then I’d hear, “Yeah, but… sister is not doing anything to help!” And it’s not just a strategy employed by kids. Most of us are prone to use it when we feel called out in one way or another. As we age, we may refine our approach, but the aim remains the same, that is, deflect negative attention by directing it towards someone else. 

Like in our gospel reading. It is a continuation of last week’s reading. Jesus has just discovered that his disciples have been bickering among themselves over who is greatest. And he calls them out about it. Ok, guys, listen up, if you really want to be the best, here’s the path. Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all. Jesus exposes the disciples’ misguided desire for status and ranking. It must have been pretty uncomfortable which is likely why the “Yeah, but” strategy is deployed.  “Yeah, but...” says the disciple John...we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us. Obviously, the hope is to turn the conversation away from the ways that they might be falling short and direct it towards this other guy who's been casting out demons. But Jesus doesn’t take the bait. The other guy is not the issue here. In fact, Jesus declares, whoever is not against us is for us. And with that, once again Jesus insists on pushing the boundaries, erasing the lines we draw between us and them, and enlarging the circle.

One of the key ways that boundary lines get erased and circles become larger is by taking our critical eye off of the “other guy” and what we think - or really, what we know! - is his problem and instead, looking honestly at ourselves with an eye toward how we might be creating stumbling blocks in our world. Jesus uses this language of “stumbling blocks” to call us to do some self-reflection. Now stumbling blocks are obstacles that get in people’s way and trip them up. Simply put, they are anything that makes life and faith harder than it has to be. And Jesus’ concern here is twofold: First, whether we are a stumbling block for another, especially those who have less power, less privilege, and are more vulnerable than we are - the least of these. And secondly, whether we create stumbling blocks for ourselves. ” Because as much as we’d like to think that the problems of this world, the stumbling blocks that make life harder, are all outside of us, many, if not most, are actually found within. And here are just a few: anger, fear, judgement, our need to compare ourselves to others, our need to be right, our unwillingness to listen, the assumption that we know best, pride, gossip, addiction. These, and a thousand other things like them are stumbling blocks that cause us and others to trip and sometimes even fall.

And that’s not all. Because stumbling blocks don’t just exist in individuals. Many manifest themselves in the way communities and groups operate, on a systemic level. Like in the ways that our legal system can sometimes be a stumbling block to justice for all. Or how governmental policies can create obstacles that make things harder for some to thrive. Even the Church can be a stumbling block to some who come seeking love and acceptance and find rejection and judgement instead. Like it or not, we are all parts of various systems that cause others to stumble.

Which makes it so tempting to respond with some type of, “Yeah, but…” “Yeah, but... what about the other guy, or the other group, or the other country… they are all much worse than we are!” But that’s not the issue today. In this moment Jesus calls us to stay with the hard and uncomfortable work of self-examination. And he’s dead serious about it. You can hear it in the images he uses: drowning by millstone, amputation of body parts, unquenchable fire, hell, the worm that never dies. We aren’t to take these words literally, but we are to take them seriously. And that begins with looking at ourselves and not at each other.

Yet even when we do there is no quick fix. The other day a parishioner came to me asking for prayer because she knew she was full of judgement. Specifically, she confessed, she thought everyone who chose not to get the Covid-19 vaccine was basically a “selfish idiot.” So we talked and prayed and held up to God her critical spirit along with desire that everyone be safe and protected and all the complexity that the issue holds. Now, I haven’t checked, but I suspect she still wrestles with this issue. That her judgement didn’t just disappear with a prayer. Even so, such surrender to God in humble self-awareness is the first step to dismantling stumbling blocks we create in our lives, in the lives of others, and in the world.

Because try as we may, this is not work we can do on our own. Living a Christian life is not something you do as much as something that gets done to you. As we recognize the ways we struggle and stumble and cause others to struggle and stumble too, our call is to give God permission to do for us what we cannot do for ourselves. That is, to clear the path of all that is getting in the way so that boundary lines are erased and the circle is made bigger which allows all of us to experience what it’s like to fully love and be loved. So that with God’s help, those stumbling blocks may one day become building blocks of love and grace and mercy and we can truly be, in the words of Jesus, at peace with one another.  

 

Our worth is infinite. September 19, 2021. The Rev. David M. Stoddart

Mark 9:30-37

So here’s the study that Harvard researchers did. It consisted of a simple choice: Would you rather earn $50,000 a year while other people make $25,000, or would you rather earn $100,000 a year while other people make $250,000? And you can assume that the prices of all goods and services remain the same regardless of the choice you make. So what would you choose? Well, the majority of respondents said they would prefer to make $50,000 while others make $25,000. In other words, they would rather go with $50,000 less as long as they knew that they were making more than other people. Seriously. Different studies have been conducted along these same lines, and the results are always the same. In one case, people had to choose between Option A and Option B. In Option A, you are waiting in line at a movie theater and you end up being the 100,000th customer, so you get $100. In Option B, you are standing in line at a movie theater and the person in front of you is the one millionth customer and gets $1,000. But because you are next in line, you receive $150. In Option A, you get a hundred bucks. In Option B, you get a hundred and fifty bucks, but the guy in front of you gets a thousand. Which would you choose? In that study, most people chose Option A: they would rather receive less money than have someone else get more than they do.

What’s that about? Why do we need to make more than other people do? And move beyond the realm of money. The Olympics just took place this summer. You know what the Olympic motto is? Citius, Altius, Fortius — Faster, Higher, Stronger. People devote their lives to running half a second faster than anyone else, or jumping two centimeters higher. Sports teams spend billions of dollars worldwide to be better than other teams. And, of course, that just reflects the society around us. Humans constantly strive to be smarter, prettier, more talented, more successful than their neighbors. Social media just amplifies this phenomenon, as people compare their haircuts, their children, their vacations, their lives with the curated versions of other people’s lives they see online. The letter of James today warns us against envy and selfish ambition, but that’s kind of tough because so much of our consumer-driven,  advertising-drenched, image-obsessed, hyper-competitive society is based on envy and selfish ambition.  I may not be great, but if I can just be a little better than you, then I’m okay.

Or am I? In the Gospel today, Jesus talks about laying down his life for others. So the disciples are discussing the beauty of self-giving love, and wondering how they can emulate Jesus. Not! They’re arguing. And what are they arguing about? Who is the greatest? Can you imagine such a discussion? “I’m more faithful in my prayer life than you are.” “Yeah, but I’m a better preacher than you.” “I healed more people last week than you did.” “Jesus talks to me more than he talks to you.” We might feel horrified that they would actually put such thoughts into words, but we all know where they’re coming from. Honestly, how many times have you compared yourself to others? How many times have you found some kind satisfaction in convincing yourself that you are somehow better than someone else? How much time and energy have we all devoted to such nonsense? How often has it left us feeling anxious and unhappy?

The writer Flannery O’Connor wisely observed that “comparison is the thief of joy.” Comparing ourselves to others serves no healthy purpose. Whether it stokes our vanity or wounds our pride, it says that our worth and our well-being all come down to how we stack up against others. Worse, it posits that my happiness actually depends on your unhappiness. I would say that that’s no way to go through life, except that so many people do just that, without even really thinking about it. But Jesus offers us awareness — and a way out.

In our Gospel today, Jesus takes a child in his arms and talks about welcoming her. It’s an image that works on many levels. To begin with, it punctures the pride of his disciples by reminding them that they are never too important or too busy competing with each other to care for the most vulnerable among us. But more powerfully, that unnamed child in Jesus’ arms is . . . you. And me. And everyone. Christ welcomes us and loves us unconditionally, regardless of how smart, beautiful, successful, or rich we may or may not be because that is the way God his Abba loves. That’s the way it works in all healthy parent-child relationships. We don’t love our newborn babies because they are successful businesswomen or starting quarterbacks. We just love them. And they let us love them. And there is no substitute for that kind of love. Once we know and experience such love from God, we never need to compare ourselves with others again. Our worth is infinite; we are adored and valued just the way we are. If we want to stop scrambling and wasting our lives in the doomed effort to try to find some degree of self-worth by being better than others, then we need to accept like children that God already loves us beyond measure, that we are already cherished for who we are. Jesus says exactly this in Mark’s Gospel: Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it (Mark 10:15).

I cannot make you receive God’s love. Jesus Christ, who does no violence, will not force you to accept his love. I can only encourage all of us to let down our guard and allow the Holy Spirit to convey to us how much God loves us. And not just allow it but ask for it. And in my experience, that takes time: it’s an ongoing process of conversion. We let some of that love in, until it bumps up against some self-judgment or self-hatred within us. And then we pray for grace and healing until that self-judgment or self-hatred dissolves, leading us into ever deeper levels of love and acceptance. It’s not always an easy process: we so often resist the very thing we crave; what we frantically try to earn by beating others can only be received as a gift. But even if we fight the gift, the Giver is infinitely patient. When we let her, God will show each one of us that we are precious beyond compare.

Let go. September 12, 2021. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

Mark 8:27-38

“Let go of the rock!” I heard the river guide yell. I was about 12 years old, alone in the middle of white water rapids. It was a vacation that had gone awry. Uncharacteristically, my family signed up for an adventure rafting trip down the Stanislaus River in California. The guide reassured us that it would be perfectly safe excursion. Everyone would have a life jacket on and the only people who fell out of the boat were those who were asking for it. Famous last words... 

So there I was, along with my family and the larger group, life jacket on, paddle in hand, straddling an inflatable raft heading into our first rapids. I was excited and determined to do my part. “Forward,” the guide shouted and I paddled forward. “Back!” he commanded and I earnestly paddled backwards. But somewhere in the middle of all that paddling I realized that I wasn’t pushing water around anymore. I was paddling air because I had popped out of the boat. And then,splash! I was in cold, choppy waters being tossed to and fro, completely out of control until the current pushed me against a large rock. From that vantage point I could see the raft waiting at the bottom of the rapids. And that’s when I heard over the roar of the water the guide’s words, “Let go of the rock!” ”Are you kidding me?” I thought. I knew my circumstances were not ideal, but it seemed a lot better than the alternative. Letting go of the rock meant entering into the unpredictable rapids, being tossed and turned by forces greater than I. It meant loss of control and that is a very scary thing. Yet even then I knew the more I clung to the rock, the more stuck I was. The only way to a better situation, a better life, was to let go. And so I did.

Jesus speaks of something similar when he tells says those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.

His point being, the harder you try to hold onto your life, the more you desire to control it, the more you seek to preserve your life as is, the more stuck you will become, and the less will actually live.

That is a hard truth. So no wonder Peter pushes back by rebuking Jesus. God’s Messiah, the Christ, is not supposed to let go of his life, to suffer and die. He is supposed to live and reign. Peter had the right idea - that through God in Christ all shall be well - but he was totally wrong about the way it would happen. It wasn’t going to happen through control and power and might, but by surrender and love and sacrifice. That was Jesus’ plan and if we are to truly live it needs to become our plan too.

If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. Yes, this saying of Jesus has been preached to destructive extremes. Nonetheless, it should not be ignored for the self-denial of which Jesus speaks of is not about denying our needs or squashing our desires or silently suffering. That leads to death, not life. Rather it was the Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, who was the first to suggest that the self that Jesus wants us to deny here is not our bodily self, but our false self. Now you may or may not have ever heard of the false self, but I bet you know what I’m talking about. It’s the self in you that acts from a place of fear, control or isolation. The false self gets overwhelmed by stress, doubt, and insecurity. It is performance and achievement focused. It’s driven by ego and the unending demands of “I, me, mine.” Ultimately, what makes this self false is that it is disconnected from divine love. When Jesus talks about denying ourselves he’s not talking about denying the genuine needs of body, mind or spirit. But in order to truly live we are to deny our False Self so that our True Self, which is our Christ Self can live.

And surely there are times where we have experienced this true, Christ Self. It’s those moments when you operate from a place of calm and connection. When you feel secure, accepted, and peaceful. When you are able to see all people, even your enemies, through the eyes of compassion. When at the heart of what you do, say, and think is self-giving, self-sacrificing. When you feel rooted and ground in divine love. This is when you are living out of your Christ Self and you are fully alive.

Every moment of every day Jesus invites us to live this true life by calling us to deny the smallness that our False Self desperately clings to. But we so often resist because that type of denying, that letting go, means a loss of control and that can be a very scary thing - so scary that it can even feel like dying. But by letting go of our false self - first by recognizing it and then by choosing to surrender it over and over and over again to God - our Christ Self is allowed to emerge. And we experience abundant life enfolded in God’s love.

You would think that after the first time I fell out of the raft I would have learned my lesson. But oh no, I fell out again, and I believe I fell out a third time before it dawned on me that perhaps I should do something different. But before I wised up, each time I was thrown into the rapids I eventually found myself pushed up against a rock. As tempting as it was to stay nestled against the false security the rock offered me I knew I needed to let go. I had to trust what the river guide - that I would be better off letting go. And he was right.

If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.

Let go: let go and live.