“Whoever wants to be first must be last of
all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and
taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my
name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent
me.” (Mark 9:35-37)
I was checking out at the Dollar Tree a few weeks ago, just about the time the first planeload of refugees was arriving in Philadelphia from Afghanistan. As usual, it seemed that continental drift was moving faster than this check-out lane. I looked on with envy as the folks in the adjacent aisle zipped through, each one greeted with a “Have a nice day!” from a portly African American woman cashier whose joyful demeanor contrasted starkly with the wooden-faced employee holding up my line.
I couldn’t help but notice a lady in the next aisle who was dressed in full Muslim garb, her head modestly covered with a hijab. As she approached the register, the cheerful cashier, taking her (I can only assume) for a newly-arrived Afghani, turned on her 5,000 watt smile[i] and almost shouted “Welcome to Philadelphia!” The Muslim lady thanked her, but sweetly informed her that, although she was an immigrant, she was not Afghani and had been living in Philly for many years.
I have to give credit to the cashier, even if she was a bit premature. She did what good hospitality and the Bible demand: she welcomed the stranger. I like to think she was welcoming Jesus, too. After all, as Matthew’s gospel tells us, Jesus was once a refugee himself.[ii]
In our gospel lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary for Pentecost 17 (Mark 9: 30-37), Jesus tries to teach his disciples about welcoming, receiving, and caring for the least and most vulnerable. He’s already told these boys that his lot is to be rejected, reviled and killed. In fact, he’s tried to tell them a couple of times now. They still don’t get it and they’re too afraid to ask him to explain. So, he does what any good teacher in the ancient Mediterranean world would do: he uses an object lesson. He takes a little child (I’m thinking this is a little girl because, although all kids were considered like property, girls were even less valued than boys)[iii] and tells them that this needy, powerless, lowest in the pecking order individual is just as valued and adored in the eyes of God as any of them. They are to welcome and receive the lowest in the society as if they are receiving their own beloved rabbi.
This must’ve blown their minds. After all, like all the rest of us sinners, they were hung up on status and priority in the societal food chain. I’m sure they truly loved Jesus and were passionately devoted to creating a new world as his disciples. Still, it seems they were taking themselves a little too seriously and were just a little too obsessed with their own importance. Self-importance leads to self-righteousness and self-pity—which are not particularly attractive traits. I guess the disciples knew this deep down, because they were embarrassed to confess to Jesus their stupid argument about their own merits.
There’s certainly a part of me which identifies with the twelve. I don’t particularly like dealing with needy people. When I have to do so (which is pretty often these days), I feel ever so slightly superior. It’s pretty easy when, let’s say, my congregation has housed a homeless family for a month. I secretly think I’ve earned another merit badge on my heavenly Scout uniform. But serving isn’t above and beyond the call. It IS the call.
Jesus doesn’t stutter when he tells us what discipleship means. It means serving the least and the lowest. If we love Jesus, we will be servants. If we are to be the church, we’d best be thinking first about the needs of the world around us.
I'm glad you stopped by this week. Please come again, and may God bless your servanthood.
[i] At
least I THINK she was smiling—she was wearing a COVID mask so it was hard to
tell!
[ii]
See Matthew Chapter 2
[iii]
If you want to get really wonky about this—and who doesn’t?—the word Mark uses
in Greek for “little child” is paidion
(paidion).
The word for house maid or slave girl is paidiske
(paidiskh).
I guess you can tell
from the similarity where little girls ranked in the society.
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