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September 21, 2003; Proper 20, Year B
    The Rev. Harold "Skip" Comer, Rector

The Gospel reading for this morning reminds me of couple of incidents where adult children argued almost over the dead bed of their mother about who was going to get what when their mom finally died.

Jesus has just told his disciples for the second time that he is about to die.   And what did he find them talking about?  They were arguing over which one of them was the greatest.

Can you imagine twelve, well maybe it was only two or three, strong egos hollering at each other that he was first, the favorite, the best.  If there was to be a kingdom, who would be vice president?  Who would be the secretary of state?  Who would be the chief of staff?

Ambition is not all bad.  I am sure that Jesus had hoped that the disciples had ambition.  After all, he had chosen them to be the leaders of the church when he was gone.  If they had just become couch potatoes, we probably would not be here this morning.  Jesus also taught them that they were to invest, use, and develop their talents.  And in so doing they would receive even more talents and responsibility – and dare I say, more authority.

There is however, a dark side to ambition, which can silence good moral principles, twist our conscience and become an all-consuming passion to satisfy our own goals.

James talks about this kind of ambition in our reading from his letter this morning.   We do not know for sure if this is the same James that was one of Jesus’ disciples, and also one of those who was found to be arguing about who was the greatest among the twelve, but if it was he certainly took to heart was Jesus told him and learned his lesson well.  James says, “For where there is envy and selfish ambition, there will also be disorder and wickedness of every kind.”[i]  The dark side of ambition occurs when we trample over others to get what we want.

Even today church members can get caught up in the “who’s the greatest,” game .  I remember a lady who wanted to become the matriarch of the parish.   She, wanted the power and prestige that she thought went with the designation of that role.  She insulted and abused others, even the priest, in her bid to become the matriarch.  Little did she realize that the role was one that was designated by the very people she hurt.  The people realized what she was doing, what her goal was, and she ended up leaving the parish because no one would associate with her.

The “who is the greatest” game has an inherent negative side to it, says Dr. Eduard Riegert.  “The aspiration to be  ‘the greatest’ always has the potential for participation in destruction, if only in the fact that to be the greatest necessitates someone else to be less and someone to be the least.”  In other words if there is to be a top ten, then there will also be a bottom ten.   Social status, power, reputation – all of these can be obstacles to recognizing God, and to seeing our neighbor as our neighbor.[ii]

Just like the disciples, even today’s clergy can get caught up in the game.   It is very easy for clergy to compare themselves with others.  Who has the bigger parish or a growing parish?  Who is receiving more compensation for being a minister?

One of the things that has occurred over the past several years in the two dioceses that I have been a priest is that at clergy retreats and conferences there has been a focus on the clergy supporting and sharing with one another.  There has been an intentional down play of the numbers game, focusing rather upon the importance that each of us has in ministering in the parish that we have been called to serve in.  Sure some parishes are bigger than others, but that does not mean that one priest or parish is better than the other.

Jesus scolded his disciples for arguing over who was the top dog.  He told them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.”[iii]   To illustrate, or emphasize, his point he took a child and put him or her in the midst of the disciples and said, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”[iv]

In order to appreciate what Jesus did when he place the child in the midst of the disciples and then held the child, we need to realize the status of children in Jesus’ day.  Children were totally dependent, primarily upon their parents, for everything.   Children had no rights or privileges, they were considered the property of their parents, and there was no one to defend them.  They were probably one level above slaves.

For Jesus to take a child and elevate his or her status above the disciples was to tell the disciples that even though they considered themselves to be among the privileged, in the kingdom they could not claim to be better than anyone else.  Like a child, they could claim no rights or status in the kingdom.

The story is told of a rich widow who died and went to heaven.  She was greeted at the pearly gates by St. Peter who said that he was there to escort her to her mansion.   As they walked down the street she marveled at the large beautiful mansions.   As they neared the end of the street she was becoming impatient because the mansions were getting smaller.  Finally Peter stopped and turned to the widow and said, “here is your mansion,” as he pointed to a little shack.  “There must be some mistake,” said the widow, “I’m not accustom to living in something so tiny and, and, you know, so much like a pigsty.  Why this is the type of place that my servants lived in.”  “Well,” replied Peter, “That is the reason that you have been assigned to this mansion, because of the way that you treated others, especially your servants, in your life on earth.”

We, like the disciples, are not the privileged elite, but rather the servants of the world.  It was, and is, in fulfilling that role that God’s grace was poured down upon the disciples and will be poured down upon us.  Not that we have earned it or somehow deserve it, but as someone who needs it.

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