The king of love

Revelation 1:4-8
John to the seven churches that are in Asia:
Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, 5 and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.
To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, 6 and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 7 Look! He is coming with the clouds;every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him;and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail.
So it is to be. Amen.
8 “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

In addition to all the questions that we have gleaned and mulled over from Marks gospel, today we might consider another question: What kind of king?
The answer to that question lies in the many discoveries we have made about Jesus as we have pondered all the other questions raised by the gospel over the last few weeks.
What makes us clean?
The things inside of you.
What must I do?
Love God with all your heart, mind and soul.
Where can I sit?
In the lowliest place.
Who is the greatest?
The one who is servant of all.
Which is the most important commandment.
To love.
Every question we've probed brings us face to face with a character who confounds expectation and who calls us to be different too.
The one that we encounter this morning in our reading from Revelation as the Alpha and the Omega - the beginning and the end.
Christ the king:
A suffering king.
A serving king.
A king who stoops down to look in our eyes and tell us that we are loved.
Last year in Advent we decorated a Chrismon tree - a tree on which the decorations, in white and gold, all symbolised Jesus - from symbols of his baptism, to his life with the disciples, to his death on a cross.
Each decoration told a story.
About Jesus.
About love.
During the season of Lent, that tree was fashioned into a cross and we journeyed with Jesus through death to resurrection.
We have journeyed with Jesus through another year in the church but before we move once again into Advent, we pause to encounter the one who is Alpha and Omega, beginning and end, who was and is and is to come.
A king - but not as we know it.
In our town centres there are already signs of Christmas.
Lights are switched on, Santa has arrived.
Christmas trees have appeared in windows.
Christmas music fills the air.
But this one Sunday, in church, before we too become even more caught up in it, we pause to remind ourselves of the king whose birth we will celebrate.
The king who pours out his love in baptism.
The king who served others as he journeyed to the cross.
The king whose compassion embraced all whom he met on the way.
The king who still holds out love for each of us today.
Whether we are already caught up in the Christmas rush.
Or whether we're holding off until the last minute.
The king of love squats beside us, trying to catch our eye, trying to distract us from our need to do and inviting us simply to be.
The king of love who tells us - you are enough.
The king of love who proclaims - I love you just as you are.
And so, before we move into Advent, the church's season of preparation, let us today encounter love.
And, as we have celebrated that love in baptism, acknowledging that we love because first God loved us, may we celebrate too that love for our adult selves.
It is not only in the cuteness and innocence of infancy that Christ offers us love but in our youth and adulthood and later years - God still holds out love and repeats again: I love you just as you are.
Even though Advent is coming.
Even though we may feel we have so many preparations to make to allow us to celebrate Christmas.
Christ the king tells us again: I love you whether you're ready or not.
Today, as pressure mounts on us to get caught up in the rush, to conform to tradition, to cave in to buying gifts to prove our love, God whispers into this space - you are enough. I love you just as you are.
Lets be sure and hear that whisper and capture that promise while we still can today.
So that we can move into Advent, secure in the knowledge of Gods love for us, content that we are enough, confident that we can live in the love of God today and always.

For the little baby,
Dependant on others for survival,
God holds out love
For the child just beginning to encounter independence
God holds out love
For the teenager already rebelling
God holds out love
For the adolescent full of angst and confusion
God holds out love
For the adult shouldering weighty responsibility
God holds out love
For the middle aged striving to get it right
God holds out love
For the elderly fearful of once again becoming dependent
God holds out love
The king of love stoops down to offer Love
that holds all the promise of life everlasting.

Thanks be to God.

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Counting the cost

Mark 12:38-44
38 As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, 39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honour at banquets! 40 They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”
41 He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. 42 A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. 43 Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. 44 For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

I had the opportunity this week to discuss todays gospel with folk who are training for ministry.
They had heard this passage about the widow's mite used in various ways by preachers.
Mainly as an exhortation for us who have plenty to give more to the church.
Or as an example of sacrificial love, and that being compared to the kind of love that God has for us.
But we often take the widows mite part out of the context of the verses that go beforehand.
This Remembrance Sunday, the context of this story about the widows mite becomes very poignant.
Listen again to the description of the Temple Authorities in the verses that precede the story of the widow:

38 As he taught, Jesus said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, 39 and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honour at banquets! 40 They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

The widows of the day were reliant on the Temple Authorities to allocate their resources for living. And that's why they were so poor. Because those with the power took more than they needed, devouring widows houses, and left little for those who were dependant on their charity.
In spite of that, the widow still strived to pay her dues to the temple.
She chose to break the cycle of injustice and corruption.
She chose to do what was right even in the face of exploitation.
She wasn't put off by institutional wrongs - she looked beyond that to offer to God all that she had.
This Remembrance Sunday, it seems, we witness the same kind of corruption and are faced with the same kind of dilemma.
Those who have given themselves in war and have returned with injuries seen or unseen.
How do we care for them?
How do we honour the sacrifice they have made - and continue to make.
And those who have not returned.
How do we support their dependants in a life they had not imagined, without their loved ones to share?
How can we ask them to make such sacrifice when, in reality, the institutions that demand such sacrifice are failing miserably to find alternatives to war and, it could be argued, have even stopped trying.
News coverage this week carried pictures of Prime Minister David Cameron on a Middle East tour.
Proudly wearing a poppy, he was in the Middle East to sell fighter planes that the UK no longer needs as well as to win other defence contracts for the UK.
Our UK economy needs a boost - but through the sale of Arms?
The same coverage also saw the Prime Minister touring a refugee camp in Jordan that houses 36000 men, women and children who are fleeing Syria.
Mr Cameron pledged a further 12 million pounds in aid, bringing the total relief Britain is injecting there to 50 million pounds.
A total that pales into insignificance when compared to the 3 billion pounds Arms Deals he was also trying to broker.
Our government speaks of wanting to encourage democracy while at the same time selling arms to oppressive authoritarian regimes.
This kind of bartering displays a shocking disrespect for human rights of those who have no voice, of those we should be protecting - the widowed and the vulnerable.
Libya, Egypt and Bahrain launched their recent violent crackdowns with UK supplied weapons.
We have to question our governments commitment to peace and democracy in the Middle East when boosting the UK economy takes priority over other concerns.

Dwight D. Eisenhower once said;
Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired, signifies in the final sense a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed.
This world in arms is not spending money alone.
It is spending the sweat of labourers, the genius of scientists, the hope of the children.

It's easy, however to criticise our government, and there is much to question there.
But what about ourselves?
How do we honour the sacrifice of those whose lives have been given in defence of our nation?
How do we honour and support those who have returned from war changed forever?
Are we paying those sacrifices cheap lip service?
Or are we committing ourselves to making a difference.
Are we committing ourselves to peace to ensure that we don't keep on asking for more sacrifice, more lives ruined?
We wear our poppies with pride.
Are we prepared to wear them also with commitment?
The commitment to hardship that will be necessary if we want our economy to rely less on Arms Deals and more on brokering peace and on continuing to support families blown apart by the ravages of war.
In preaching on this gospel text this morning, I'm asking, not that we be more like the widow, giving her all but, rather, that we notice the irony of the widow being forced to pay tax to a corrupt institution - an institution charged with protecting her rights that chose to exploit her.
I'm asking that, in noticing that injustice this morning, we will also open our eyes to the injustice that is perpetrated to our service personnel and our veterans in this country every day.
That those who are being asked to give, being asked to pay a terrible price, are not being supported as our government finds new battles to fight and barters more human lives in boosting our economy.
It's a huge, messy, complicated wrangle with no easy fixes.
But, if wearing our poppies today is to be in any way meaningful, it will involve us recognising the corruptness of our institutions today and it will involve us, with our eyes wide open, entering that fray to make a difference for peace.
It is for us, today, to question the costs that we still demand from those who can least afford it.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus called to attention those on the margins of society, those who had previously gone unnoticed, the poor, the blind, the lame, the beggars, the lepers, military personnel and widows.
Those whom society looked down on or simply ignored.
It is these that Jesus brings into focus.
It is in these people that Jesus demonstrates the Kingdom of God.
What is the Kingdom of God?
It is the time or the place or the people in whom Gods will is accomplished.
The time or the place or the people in whom we see the face of Christ.
It is the time and the place and the people to whom God constantly calls us back.
In every decision we make, our over riding concern should be - are we establishing by our thoughts or commitment or action the Kingdom of God?
Are we promoting the face of Christ above all else?
We wear our poppies today to honour those who have fallen in war and those who continue to pay the price of war.
We wear our poppies to establish the Kingdom of God and to see the face of Christ in all those we honour today.
Those who have sacrificed much.
And, from our abundance, we commit ourselves to ensuring that that sacrifice is not made any more difficult.
We commit ourselves to sharing the cost.
The cost of peace.
We are all too aware of the cost of war.
But Peace costs too.
And, unless we are willing to commit ourselves, sacrificially to that cost, our nation will continue to sacrifice lives for war, not peace.
There is a sense of futility in our gospel story this morning - it doesn't appear such good news.
A widow giving her all to a corrupt institution, an institution that fails miserably to care for her as charged.
But she gives anyway.
And Jesus commends her giving.
Jesus commends her giving while condemning the system.
Such is the strange conundrum in which we find ourselves today.
Recognising how flawed and inadequate are our moves toward peace, recognising how flawed and inadequate are our institutions charged with finding peaceful solutions to conflict, charged with reducing the cost of sacrifice.
In all of our hurt and outrage and disillusionment and,often, sense of defeat, yet we honour those who continue to sacrifice.
Our military personnel and their families who make their offerings.
All those who have served.
And those who continue to serve.
We salute them.
And we take up the challenge to bear the cost that must be borne so that the sacrifice is not theirs alone.
Jesus did not undervalue the widow's gift and its cost.
And neither should we.
But we look beyond that gift to determine what we can do to challenge the institutions that continue to demand such sacrifice.
In that work, will our poppies be worn with pride.
In that work will the Kingdom of God reign and the face of Christ be seen.
For the glory of God.
Amen


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I want to see

Mark 10:46-52
The Healing of Blind Bartimaeus
46 They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. 47 When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” 48 Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” 49 Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” 50 So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. 51 Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” 52 Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

Our gospel reading is fairly short today.
And it doesn't contain Jesus speaking as he has been in the last few weeks gospel readings about his journey toward the cross.
Instead, we have a story of healing.
A brief story but one filled with amazing depth.
There are lots of details in this story that I love.
Lots of phrases that deserve to be savoured:
It's a story that invites us in - to be a part of it.
So let's take a break this morning from the rather harsh teaching that we've been following over the last few weeks and enjoy this brief interlude.
And lets focus on Jesus ministering in one of the many interruptions that assailed him on his way.
Lets imagine ourselves on this part of the journey with Jesus.
Would we find ourselves in the crowd with Jesus and his disciples, attempting to leave Jericho?
They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside.
Can you imagine yourself in that crowd - perhaps pleased to be on the move again, glad to continue the journey, happy to be part of Jesus entourage.
I'm sure you've seen something of the USA Electoral coverage.
Every step of the candidates' journey, they are accompanied by vast support networks - a huge circus of activity.
And, as the election looms nearer - some states have already started voting- the crowds get larger and larger and the circus becomes more and more bizarre.
As Jesus journeys through towns and villages, his following grows too and, as we've already witnessed it becomes impossible for him to do anything quietly.
It's impossible for him even to find time to pray.
In our story today, perhaps you'd find a place in that crowd, swept up in the euphoria that surrounded Jesus, hanging on to his every word, desperate to see what he would do next.
Perhaps you'd be right in the thick of it, squeezing your way out of Jericho, impatient to be on your way, desperate to see where the next stage of the journey will take you, loving the noise and the bustle and the excitement.
And then being annoyed as Jesus comes to a grinding halt, as the procession stops - and for what?
To heed a beggar, a blind beggar at that.
Perhaps you'd be a part of that crowd, feeling contempt that something so trivial should stop the great machine that was the Jesus entourage in its tracks.
Or perhaps you'd experience a frisson of excitement as Jesus stopped yet again - wondering what on earth he'd do now.
You're in that crowd.
And your progress is halted.
Are you frustrated and anxious to be on your way?
Or are you filled with anticipation, wondering what bizarre spectacle you're about to witness now?

But maybe the crowd that accompanied Jesus is not where you'd be found.
Maybe that whole circus theme is not your scene.
Maybe you'd find yourself alongside Bartimaeus, one of his fellow beggars?
Or perhaps you'd be one of those shushing him, telling him not to call out to Jesus?
One of those who knows that there is no way that Jesus would notice a blind beggar, or hear his desperate calling?
Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”
Would you be one of those pouring cold water on the hopes of Bartimaeus, ridiculing his audacity in thinking that Jesus would have anything to do with him, sternly ordering him to be quiet?

Or would you be with the folk who heard Jesus calling Bartimaeus?
One of those who was tuned in, sensitive, even over the babble of the crowd, one of those who encouraged Bartimaeus to approach Jesus?
One of those responsible for Bartimaeus throwing off his cloak, leaping to his feet and coming to Jesus.
They called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.”
Would you be one of those people, eyes open for opportunity, willing to see others made well?

Wherever you find yourself in the crowd- with Jesus or with Bartimaeus, frustrated at being held up or excited by possibility, what about the interaction between Jesus and Bartimaeus?
What effect does that have on you?
Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?”
The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.”
I want to see again.
The words of Blind Bartimaeus to Jesus.
I want to see again.
A simple request that contains a world of longing.
I want to see again.
Perhaps we'd like to take ourselves out of the crowd now, wherever in that crowd we might have imagined ourselves.
Perhaps we'd like to take ourselves out of the crowd and ask for that same healing for ourselves: I want to see again.
A longing that lives deep within us.
A longing to be able to see with eyes of faith, with eyes of hope, with eyes of compassion, with eyes of love.
A longing to lose the cataracts that have formed over our eyes as we have become cold and distant, unmoved by the pain of the world around us, hardened by life.
I want to see again - maybe our deepest longing today.
We're no longer a part of that crowd.
We're in the spotlight.
We are the ones in need of healing.
We are the ones who need to throw off our cloaks and approach Jesus with a spring in our step and hope in our heart, seeking healing from the blindness that afflicts us daily, the blindness that makes us turn away from life, that makes us live less than our potential, the blindness that holds us back, that imprisons our spirits.
I want to see again.
We cannot continue to hide in the crowd.
It is important that we place ourselves alongside Bartimaeus, facing our fear, acknowledging our need for healing, having the faith and the courage to ask Jesus to restore our sight.
And hearing those words of Jesus spoken for us:
Your faith has made you well.

Faith involves us leaving the safety of the crowd, throwing off our cloak of fear, recognising our blindness and asking for healing.
And then hearing Jesus say to us:
Your faith has made you well.

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Thoughtless Christian

- Mark 10:35-45
The Request of James and John
35 James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” 36 And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” 37 And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” 38 But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” 39 They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; 40 but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”
41 When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. 42 So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. 43 But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, 44 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. 45 For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

If you wanted someone to write your biography you certainly wouldn't ask the author of Marks gospel. Could he present the disciples in any worse light than he does?
It's certainly been something of a comfort to journey with Jesus and the disciples these last few weeks and, in witnessing their blundering and misunderstanding, realise what good company we keep in all our getting it wrong.
Today, we read of James and John asking if they can have places of honour, seated next to Jesus in the new kingdom.
To understand their story better, we might remind ourselves of the framework of Marks gospel.
As Jesus journeys with his disciples he is constantly trying to teach them about the suffering and death that is ahead for him. It seems that as the disciples eyes are opened to the uniqueness of Jesus, as they see more and more the wonders and miracles he performs, as they grow more and more excited about being apprentices of such an amazing, charismatic leader, Jesus redoubles his efforts to reveal to them his identity and purpose. His identity as the Son of God. And his purpose - to save the world by his death.
Yes he is the Messiah but not one that they might recognise.
His version of Messiah leads to suffering and death.
And, so it seems, in Marks gospel, that every miracle is sandwiched between Jesus teaching about his suffering and death.
It is important to him that the disciples begin to understand: This is not all about the highs - there are incredible lows to come.
Then we might feel a wee bit more sympathetic towards the disciples. How difficult it must have been, every time they were blown away by how amazing Jesus is, every time they just wanted to ooh and aha and marvel at his words and actions, Jesus brings them right back down to earth with a thud and starts to prattle on about how he must suffer and die.
No wonder they were confused. Now wonder they got frustrated and tried to argue with Jesus or tried to stop him launching into such dreary talk when they just wanted, for a time to remain on a high. Jesus is determined to haul them back to earth.
Actually, as Scots, that is something with which we should be very understanding, something of which we have lots of experience. It is a part of our psyche that none should get above themselves. As we grow up and even in adulthood, there are always those around us who will bring us back down from whichever cloud we find ourselves on, there will always be someone to ground us and keep our feet on the earth. There will always be someone to remind us that every pleasure must be paid for with pain!
Do you remember that TV advert recently - for yogurt- that showed a woman enjoying every spoonful of yogurt - and for each spoonful of pleasure she enjoyed, there were folk all around her stubbing their toes, tripping up, generally experiencing pain for every moment of her pleasure.
An animated version of Marks gospel might look similar. Every pleasure balanced by pain. Every celebration overshadowed by sorrow. Jesus keeping the disciples grounded.
But Jesus purpose is not to bring them down but to build them up.
Jesus wants to awaken them to the reality to which they are called.
A reality that will involve suffering and death.
A reality that though they haven't yet grasped the meaning of, they will live into in time.
It's hard to tell whether Jesus words to James and John: “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized It's hard to tell whether these words are a threat or a promise. My preference is to think of them as a promise: Jesus knows that these disciples will indeed live into that promise - when the time comes, they will be able to endure suffering, they will die for the sake of the kingdom. Jesus knows that they will "do him proud" when the need arises.
So this mornings gospel contains another attempt by Jesus to ensure that his disciples are as well prepared as they can possibly be.
When the other disciples learned what James and John had asked of Jesus, they were indignant.
I wonder if the reason the other disciples were displeased with James and John was simply because they wished that James and Johns question was one that they had asked.
It's infuriating when others push themselves forward into something we feel we deserve.
Jesus is probably well aware of the outrage of the other disciples when he continues his teaching - because Jesus then goes on to teach about how different his disciples must be.
Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.
In our Christian walk today, in this part of the world, we may not encounter the kinds of trial that awaited the first disciples but we are still called to practice a life of service.
Whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.
Servanthood is a difficult path to walk. One that demands a lot of practise.
There is a Native American story about a young brave who goes to an elder and says, "I'm in turmoil. My heart is filled with good and with bad."
The elder tells him , "Two dogs live within the heart. One is good and the other is evil."
"How do I know which one will win?" asks the young man. "The one you feed will win," replies the older, wiser man.
"The one you feed will win,"
So it is with being a servant.
If we feed our servant nature, it will grow strong and overcome the desires that would make us want to be first in everything.
It is not wrong to have ambition.
It is not wrong to want the best.
Modelling servanthood does not preclude achievement.
In fact being a servant can actually be quite powerful. ( And I'm not talking about the cult that is Downton Abbey!)
For us to have an impact on this community that we serve calls for us not to ask: "whats in it for us?"
For us to have an impact on this community that we serve calls for us to be servants.
Calls for us to discover the needs of our community and do what we can to meet those needs.
Serving our community in small things and in large, all of which make an impact.
Perversely, that will get us noticed.
We will become known as people who are willing to serve, willing to be there for others, willing to give of ourselves to make a difference.
Feeding our servant nature until it becomes all that we can do - serving others.
Until we do it without thinking.

Thoughtlessness:
That's what Jesus demands.
Not the conscious "always putting yourself last",
Not the big effort
Not even the martyrdom.
But the thoughtlessness
that comes as second nature.
Just like Jesus.
Serving because that's just what we do
Always putting others first
because that's just the way we are,
and in all this
making a huge impact,
without even knowing
because the nature of Christ
lives deep within us.
Thoughtless Christians
That's what the world needs more of.

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Simple living?

Mark 10:17-31

The Rich Man

17 As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, “Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 18 Jesus said to him, “Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. 19 You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honour your father and mother. ’” 20 He said to him, “Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.” 21 Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.” 22 When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

23 Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, “How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” 24 And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, “Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! 25 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.” 26 They were greatly astounded and said to one another, “Then who can be saved?” 27 Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

28 Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.” 29 Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, 30 who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. 31 But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.”

If Jesus were around today, he would give the stand up comedians a run for their money. He just had a way of saying things that brought some levity but, in the levity, there was often a punch that cut to the heart of the matter.

In today's gospel, a man ran up to Jesus, catching him just as he was setting off on another journey.

You know how that is...

You're edging your way out of the door, thinking you'll be in good time.

Against all the odds, you're ready to be on your way....

Then you're stopped in your tracks.

And it's never something simple that stops you.

Never something that can be kept til you return.

In Marks gospel, Jesus makes one journey - that is, the journey to the cross.

But all along the way, he stopped to teach and to heal.

And today's reading was yet another of those interruptions on the way to the cross.

This man, whom we call The Rich Young Ruler based on accounts in the other gospels presents Jesus with a question that must be addressed there and then.

It's a burning desire in the questioner that simply won't keep.

"Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

For a moment, Jesus is distracted by the man calling him good.

"Why do you call me good?" He asks. "God alone is good"

From the subsequent conversation, this man was familiar with the laws of life - it seems likely he practised them all diligently. But there was clearly something missing from his life. He wasn't fulfilled. He knew how to live - but that wasn't cutting it. He wanted more.

One of the startling things we heard last week from the folks from the Foodbank is that many of us are just one pay check away from going hungry. 

And that is something that I've come across with more regularity.

Demographics are changing.

Those who need help, with food, with shelter - no longer fit the stereotypes into which we like to box them.

The folk who turn up at the manse door these days are not, as has been the case in the past, folk chancing their arm or attempting a scam but people with stories of illness or redundancy or mental health issues that have led to their vulnerability and destitution.

You and I, worshipping together this morning are considered rich. We fall into the category that places us as rich people in the world.

Does that surprise you?

All of us gathered here - whether we're still trying to pay off student loans, whether we have mortgages that seem crippling month by month, whether our pensions have taken knock after knock over the years, whether our salaries fail miserably to keep up with inflation, we are considered wealthy on worldly terms.

We have a roof over our heads.

There is food in our cupboards.

We had a choice of clothes to wear this morning.

We may have driven or been driven here this morning.

We have access to education, to healthcare.

We have a choice of leisure or cultural pursuits.

We are wealthy.

And, whether we like to admit it or not, we are attached to our wealth, a wealth often achieved at the expense of others.

Those we will never meet - in factories halfway across the world, who manufacture the clothes we like to buy as cheaply as possible.

Those we will never meet, who gather crops in all weathers so that we can have out of season food whenever we want it at reasonable prices, for us.

Those we will never meet who precisely and painstakingly put together the gadgets and electronic wizardry that we love.

Those we will never meet who don't even earn in a day the loose change we spend on a latte or a fast food takeaway.

We are attached to our wealth.

We feel entitled to it.

Jesus does not condemn the young man who questions him.

Jesus looks on him with love.

What a powerful statement.

v21 - Jesus, looking at him, loved him.

Jesus told him: " You lack only one thing - go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor."

Neither does Jesus condemn us this morning.

He looks on us with love and says: " You lack only one thing - go sell what you own, and give the money to the poor."

And how hard it is for us to follow when faced with such a demand.

Peter, the disciple makes a good try at squirming out of it. Just as many of us will.

In v28 , Peter began to say to him, “Look, we have left everything and followed you.”

That's a refrain often heard in churches: " look at what we've done"

And Jesus message is: well done, now go and do more.

Impossible?

Jesus looked at them and said, “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

And this is where the gospel becomes good news even for us wealthy worshipers this morning.

Jesus looks on us with love, not condemnation.

And offers us grace.

Offers us the understanding that to do this thing that is so difficult, to achieve the impossible, we will need the power of God transforming our lives, turning them upside down, pouring in grace that makes all things possible.

In the work of the kingdom, we can never feel that we've done our bit. Not while there are poor and homeless and hungry folk in the world, and right here on our doorstep.

The work is never done.

And we have much to share.

Jesus looks on us with love, not condemnation.

But his message takes no prisoners.

Go and do more.

And let's notice one more thing about today's gospel.

When the young man runs up to Jesus and kneels before him, this is just like all the other stories we have been considering these last few weeks in marks gospel" stories of healing.

Folk came to Jesus and knelt before him seeking healing.

So it was with this young man.

He knew that something was amiss in his life.

He was good, he kept the law, he followed the church's teaching, but he knew that his life was not as abundant as it could be.

Jesus told him how he could find that abundance.

How he could experience that something more that was missing from his life.

Jesus showed him the way to being healed.

Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, “You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

Word!

For us today.

Making room

Mark 9:38-50
38 John said to him, “Teacher, we saw someone casting out demons in your name, and we tried to stop him, because he was not following us.” 39 But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. 40 Whoever is not against us is for us. 41 For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.
42 “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea. 43 If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. 45 And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell., 47 And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out; it is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and to be thrown into hell, 48 where their worm never dies, and the fire is never quenched.
49 “For everyone will be salted with fire. 50 Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.”

Mark's gospel has to be the worst for the disciples. They are consistently portrayed as numpties. They keep on misreading situations, misunderstanding Jesus and constantly getting it wrong.
As we've journeyed with them over these past few weeks, it's been fairly easy to sympathise and perhaps even identify with them.
So they had bother understanding Jesus' teaching.
We do too.
So they didn't want to engage with all his talk of suffering and death.
We get that too.
But today's incident?
Where they are stupid enough to complain to Jesus about someone who was casting out demons using the name of Jesus.
Now that really was stupid.
Especially when, just a little while earlier, those very disciples had been unable to cast out a demon when asked.
Is it a case of - if we can't do it then no one else will?
Whatever their thinking, it seems pretty daft to go complaining to Jesus.
It didn't seem to even cross their minds that this might be a good thing.
They don't seem to have viewed this deed from the point of view of the one released from unclean spirits.
Or the joy of his friends and family to regain the person they know, restored to health in body and mind.
The disciples seem only interested in the fact that the person who cast out the demon is "not one of them."
And that seems a bit dumb - even for the disciples.
So while over the last few weeks, we might have been tempted to sympathise with them.
While we might have even been able to identify with them - after all, we too would have got it wrong - today we want to step back from their stupidity - it has just gone too far.
How could they possibly expect Jesus to condemn someone for doing good just because he was not in the right crowd?
None of us would ever find ourselves doing that.
Would we?

Marks gospel, as well as showing the disciples up to be numpties, also demonstrates the widening of the kingdom.
More and more people are welcomed into the kingdom.
Jesus demonstrates that God's love is far reaching and much more inclusive than has ever been conceived.
So why would the disciples imagine for a moment that Jesus would be pleased with them dismissing someone who cast out demons in the name of Jesus simply because he was not in their group?
But lets Imagine how it must have been for those disciples.
They are the ones who upped sticks and followed Jesus.
Working men one day.
Itinerant preachers the next.
Jesus had turned their lives upside down with his charisma and pulling power.
They were singled out by Jesus.
And invited to go on a journey.
A journey of discovery that changed them forever.
He taught them so many things.
And commissioned them as disciples.
How could just anybody then begin to do the things that they had been called to do?
And not only that but do it better than they were doing right then?
When we stop to imagine how it might have felt for them, when we begin to see where they were coming from - Then maybe that's where we find ourselves beginning, once more, to identify with the disciples.
Then we can sympathise with their indignation.
Here are the guys with the long service awards.
The ones who have endured hardship.
The ones who have been through a lot together.
How can someone new just show up and be embraced, given all the same power and privilege that is theirs?
How can that be?
They are the keepers and the dispensers of the faith, not some new comer who has not been through the kind of training they've been through or put up with all that they've endured together with Jesus.
It's not right that they should do all the hard work and then someone else shows up and reaps the benefit.
Not only that - but someone who is better at their job than they themselves are.
And I wonder if we are starting to see how we might identify with the disciples as they are portrayed in today's gospel.
Feeling threatened.
Feeling sidelined.
Feeling fear.
If someone can just pitch up and do what they are supposed to do, not only that, but do it better even though they've not been around as long as they have.
Even though they have not had the benefit of all of Jesus teaching.
Folk can appear from nowhere and take over their tasks and, not only that, but be welcomed and encouraged by Jesus.
And that is precisely the gospel that is preached in Mark.
That everyone IS called.
And equipped.
That God includes us and gives us power.
Whether we have been here forever.
Whether we are in with the bricks.
Or whether we have just shown up recently.
God makes room for us and invites us to participate.
On Gods terms - no one else's.
And we are called to welcome others on those same terms.
With openness.
Even if they want to do the jobs that we have always done.
The jobs that no one else can ever do in just the right way.
We are called to move over and make room.
To welcome and include.
To stop being precious about the things that only we can get right.
We are called to welcome and involve others so that the kingdom grows.
To set aside our complaining and allow others to serve as God calls them too.
And that is not easy.
It doesn't come naturally.
It takes effort.
We'd rather complain about how busy we are.
And about how no one can do properly those task that we have always done.
We'd rather have a good moan about it than move over and make room for others to share the load.
Because what if they mess it up?
What if they get it wrong?
And, even worse, what if they are better at it then we are?
It takes courage and strength to welcome others and to make room for them.
It's something that doesn't necessarily come naturally, something that has to be worked at.
But something that God calls us to do for the sake of the kingdom.

So, today, as we smile at the disciples getting it wrong again.
As we see them feeling threatened and feel their fear as they feel sidelined.
May we pause to catch a hold of those feelings in ourselves.
And may we get over ourselves and move over to welcome others.
Because the consequences for our congregation and for our church are too awful to contemplate.
The consequences if we cannot move on are what Jesus goes on to outline in the rest of the passage.
Jesus teaches in his usual over stated way, the things that we know deep down, the things that our common sense tells us but that we choose to ignore.
And that is - that we can easily turn others off.
That we can easily be responsible for someone turning away from the church.
That all of us can be stumbling blocks.
There seems to be a bit of a pre-occupation in Marks gospel with demons that need to be cast out.
Maybe we have a few of those ourselves.
That demon of fear that our positions will be usurped..
That demon of fear of change.
That demon of fear of the unknown.
That demon of pride in what we have done that no one else could possibly do as well as we do.
There are demons in us that we could do with being freed from.
So that we can stop being stumbling blocks to those new in faith or those tentatively taking their first steps in the kingdom.
So that we can be free to move over and make room.

For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.
Jesus spells out to us that our actions must match our words.
It's no good claiming to be welcoming when we don't make room for others, when we don't encourage them to settle in and stay.
Its no good claiming to be welcoming when we only welcome those who pose no threat to us.
Accepting that cup of water.
Being ministered to as well as ministering is a vital part of discipleship.
And, often one we are slow to learn.
Especially when we have been here a while, when we feel settled and comfortable.
It's hard to let others, especially those we don't know minister to us.
It's difficult to see our need.
But in the kingdom of God, all are welcome, all are called to minister and all have a need to be ministered to.
Thanks be to God for widening the scope of the kingdom so that we don't need to carry the burden by ourselves.
Thanks be to God for calling and equipping others so that we can enjoy ministry rather than be overwhelmed by its demands.
Thanks be to God for every cup of cold water offered to us on the journey.
May we never be to proud or too precious to accept, wherever it comes from.
Thanks be to God.

Being the greatest - at love

Mark 9:30-37

³⁰They went on from there and passed through Galilee. He did not want anyone to know it; ³¹for he was teaching his disciples, saying to them, “The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.” ³²But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

³³Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” ³⁴But they were silent, for on the way they had argued with one another who was the greatest. ³⁵He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” ³⁶Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ³⁷“Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.

”In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

One of the first sermons I ever preached, before I even started university was on the text of Jesus blessing children. The feedback was mainly polite and positive. But one parent said to me -it's clear that you have no children. At that time I was an aunt who could always hand back the children when they got cranky!

In suggesting why Jesus had blessed the children, I had talked only about all the positive aspects of childhood in a somewhat idealistic way.

Now, being older if not necessarily wiser, I view children that bit differently.

I celebrate the spontaneity and enthusiasm of children but recognise too those less desirable elements of childhood, the bits that "only a mother could love" as we say.

And perhaps I appreciate better the extreme vulnerability of children.

In our gospel this morning we find another example of Jesus holding up a child to make his  point and to teach his disciples something important.

Once again in this reading from Marks gospel, the disciples aren't being portrayed in their best light.

Jesus tries to keep it simple, explaining things to them in great detail - about how he must suffer and die and then rise again.

The trouble is, as we discovered in last weeks gospel reading, that this is so far outside the disciples notion of what Jesus should be - as the Son of God, the one sent to save Gods people.

They don't really get Jesus' description of the kind of Messiah he is: one who serves out of love.

One who suffers, who dies and who rises again.

Jesus' dying is so far beyond their imagining that they are consistently unable to grasp what he painstakingly tries to describe to them.

It's a case of "too much information already."

And, what's more, they don't even know the right questions to ask of him.

Possibly because they are too afraid of showing their ignorance or looking foolish in the eyes of their peers.

But when something is beyond our imagining it IS hard to know what to ask.

Perhaps that's why they end up discussing something as inane as " who is the greatest?"

That struck me as being a very common ailment in life, in so many areas:

When we are faced with things we don't understand, we don't want to look any more foolish than we already feel.

So, rather than stick our head above the parapet by asking difficult questions, we resort to the unimportant.

We try to keep it simple.

Then we won't get too involved or look too foolish.

It's particularly common in our church life.

If we don't delve too deep, we won't get bogged down.

And so we end up discussing, at great length, things that aren't really important.

Things that keep us from admitting that we don't understand.

Things that keep us safe from either controversy or looking foolish.

Things that keep us from admitting that there are so many questions we cannot answer.

Why DO bad things happen to good people?

Why does evil so often triumph?

Why is the world so unfair?

And why does God allow things to be this way?

Those are the kind of questions we keep quiet about.

They are also the kind of questions which are impossible to answer.

But we must not shy away from them.

They won't go away just because we don't acknowledge them.

Sharing those kind of dilemmas leads to openness and honesty with each other, to the deepening of relationships as, together, we struggle with difficult questions., as together we really get our teeth into things that matter, not just to us but to the world we serve.

Jesus discovered the disciples squabbling over things that don't really matter - but, rather than dismiss their concerns, he addresses them

He uses the opportunity to teach them some more about the nature of Gods kingdom.

So you want to be great?

Well, here's how:

And that's when Jesus used a child as an illustration of greatness.

A child, in Jesus day, was of very lowly status, seen as a liability rather than an effective contributor to society.

Yet again, Jesus was turning contemporary wisdom on its head.

As with so much of Jesus' teaching.

To become great, What qualities, present in children might we emulate?

Perhaps rediscovering imagination would be a good place to start.

The ability to conceive of things we don't understand, allowing for the in-explainable.

Maybe tenacity would be another desirable quality:

Children are rarely easily distracted from their goal but persist in attempting to achieve.

And what about wonder?

Children continue to be surprised and amazed, with the capacity to be enchanted and to wonder, not satisfied with easy explanations, always thirsting for knowledge.

But children are also vulnerable.

God calls us to,look out for the vulnerable and not to be afraid of our own vulnerability.

And what about when children get a bit wearing , when they try our patience and test our endurance.

Jesus calls us to love such people, be they children or not.

The vulnerable, those who are hard to love.

That's the kind of greatness to which we are called.

Can you imagine how different our fellowship here would be if we embraced the kind of greatness to which Jesus pointed?

A fellowship where folk aren't afraid to display vulnerability.

A fellowship where folk are happy to struggle together with difficult questions with no easy answers.

A fellowship where we love one another, even those who are difficult to love.

Jesus was calling his disciples out of their embarrassment at not understanding and inviting them on a journey that would demand more involvement, more curiosity, more daring and risk, more love.

In using a child as an example, Jesus was encouraging us to embrace vulnerability and to seek justice where that is exploited in others.

To love beyond our imagining.

Involvement, curiosity, daring, risk, protectors of the vulnerable, doing all this in love.

Are those paths we want to travel?

Meditation

There’s always one,

or two,

or twelve

that miss the point.

Sometimes it gets lost in translation.

We’re not all interpreters 

of heavenly jargon

or experts in the code of love.

Sometimes it gets knotted with fear.

We’re not so quick with questions

when our arguments are mired in silence.

Sometimes it gets confused with power.

And we’re the first to elbow our way 

past the last

to the front of the queue.

It takes only

one innocent life,

one act of love

to make the point.

.

Jesus said: Whoever embraces one of these children as I do embraces me, and far more than me -  God who sent me.