A Sermon by Fr. Davenport, October 18, 2009, Year B

Pentecost XX

Job 38:1-7, 34-41
Hebrews, 5:1-10
Mark, 10:35-45

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirt.  Amen


THE TOPIC OF FINANCES "is the one pastors most avoid.  Fear of sermons on money is the chief excuse for not attending church and not bringing guests.”  So says Dr. Wesley Wilmer, a stewardship specialist. 

He might be right.  I find October when we focus special attention on stewardship a bit of a challenge.  I’d certainly prefer to separate money, what I do with it, from my spiritual life.  I’d prefer to act as if money had nothing to do with God, nothing to do with the well-being of my soul. 

But Jesus was always talking about money and always shocking people by what he said about it.  The Church probably focuses a whole lot less attention on money than Jesus did.  I also notice how very much the Church talks about sex and sexuality and how very little Jesus had to say about it.  A sign of growth and integrity is being able to pay attention to what matters most.

Last Monday at our daily mass, we celebrated the Feast of St. Wilfrid, a 7th century Archbishop of York.  He’s not one of my favorites.  He was quite a controversialist, and a saint, I think, because he sided with Rome against the native Celts.  Rome has the privilege of declaring saints, and sainthood tends to be like the Presidential Medal of Freedom – it’s often awarded to allies and supporters. 

Two of the big hot button controversies of Wilfrid’s day were how to date Easter and the proper size of a monk’s tonsure, that is how much of crown of a monk’s head to shave, sort of an exaggerated and enforced male pattern baldness.  Monks shaved the top of their scalp as a sign of their renunciation of the world.  How much hair to shave, how to date Easter – these were intensely emotional conflicts, full of bitterness.  I wonder if in a thousand years people will snicker at our controversies as much as we snicker at those in 7th century Britain. 

But they may be easier things to argue about than money.  Our trepidation and defensiveness in talking directly, openly about money is nothing new.  It’ll always has been and always will be a difficult and sensitive subject.  It cuts to the quick.  What we do with money shapes what kind of people we are.  Jesus said, “Where your treasure is, there will be your heart also.” (Mt 6:21)  Where do we want our hearts?  Most of us are probably somewhat conflicted about that.  An essential part of resolving our inner conflicts about money is talking about it, having the courage to address and reflect on our habits.

Suppose one fine summer evening you are strolling down on the Mall between the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial.1  You’re dressed to the nines because you’re about to meet a friend for dinner.  Suddenly you notice a child in the Reflecting Pool, and he’s struggling, possibly drowning.

As you quickly move in that direction, you glance around and don’t see anyone minding the child.  Without stopping to take off your new, expensive shoes, you hop into two feet of water and rescue the child.  You’ve done the decent thing, but you’d be the first person to say that it’s not an act of a hero.  It required no particular courage or exceptional sacrifice – just a ruined pair of shoes.  We’d expect it of anyone.  You’d be a monster not to have responded to the child’s need.

Or perhaps not.  UNICEF reports that we could prevent the death of nearly 10 million children under five each year.  These children die from easily treated disease, poor sanitation, inadequate diet.  It’s been estimated that for approximately the cost of a pair of expensive shoes one child’s life could be saved.

Why isn’t more done about it?  It’s the bystander effect.  We assume that responsibility for those children is not particular, but widespread.  If we notice someone struggling for help right in front of us, and if we’re the only person around, we’re much more likely to respond.  It’s something anyone would do. 

But if there are a bunch of bystanders not helping out, we’re a lot less likely to go out of our way to help.  If, however, we know that most people are giving to aid programs, it’s much more likely we will as well.  To act according to our best selves, to be the kind of people we want to be, we need the support and encouragement of other people.  We really are in this all together. 

I’m profoundly grateful to this parish for all of the examples of people caring for others – not standing around waiting for someone else to take responsibility.  It inspires me.  It battles against the bystander effect in me.  It reminds me that we are all in this together. 

In today’s gospel, what’s so repulsive about James and John is that they don’t recognize that they are in it together with Jesus or even with the other disciples.  They’re scheming for position and favor above the other disciples.  They’re not there to support Jesus or the other disciples.  They’re not acting according to their best selves, and when the disciples find out about James and John’s maneuvering, they get angry and hurt and lose their cool.  They don’t according to their best selves.

St. Matthew is so embarrassed by James and John’s behavior that he changes Mark’s version so that it is not them, but their mother who asks for special status for them. But in a way Matthew’s version is worse because it portrays them as momma’s boys.

James and John are trying to use Jesus to get themselves power and glory.  They’re trying to manipulate him   They want to use him as a genie. They treat him as an object, not a person; as an it, not a who.  They are not acting as if they are interested in relationship with Jesus, and relationship with Jesus is the whole point of being a disciple. 

nfortunately, we might recognize a bit of James and John in ourselves.  When we bargain and cut deals with God, we’re acting like James and John.  When we go to church to earn God’s favor, we’re acting like James and John.  When we give money to church or a charity to win points with God, we’re acting like James and John.  When we pray or read the Bible or help the poor to put God in our debt, we’re acting like James and John.  On the other hand, if we do these things not to get something from God, but rather to spend time with God, to connect with God, to give thanks, then we’re building a relationship.

According to Rowan Williams, a healthy, well-functioning, solid Christian community is like that of a good marriage, in which mutual attention, giving and receiving, enjoyment and sacrifice are tightly woven together, as both realize that there is nothing good for one that is not good for both, nothing bad for one that is not bad for both – that fullness of life is necessarily a collaborative thing.2 

Mutual attention.  Enjoyment and sacrifice.  Giving and receiving.  Maybe one way to grow in our ability to give is to become better at receiving.  Often those times when I have been most uncomfortable have been when I have been the recipient of someone else’s remarkable generosity, kindness, or consideration.  I’ve been ill at ease because I’d much prefer to be in the power position of having someone in my debt, rather than being the recipient of grace.  It can be very difficult to acknowledge and accept grace. We like the conceit that we did it on our own. 

Peter Gomes, the Chaplain at Harvard, describes his early years during the ‘60s preaching in Alabama in “small, rural, black Baptist churches ... tiny, hard-scrabble places.”3  The congregations would take up a “love offering” immediately after the sermon.  The “love offering” was for the preacher.  The people were grateful for his ministry to them and generous in their giving.  Initially, Rev. Gomes refused to accept “these offerings on the grounds that these poor people and their poor church needed the money more than [he ] did.”  He says that it was his pleasure to decline their gifts and, in fact, that it made him feel quite morally superior. 

On some occasion, Rev. Gomes mentioned this practice to the dean of women at Tuskegee Institute, in essence boasting of what he considered to be his generosity and self-denial.  Gomes writes,

She was not impressed.  In fact, she upbraided me without mercy for my arrogance. “Who are you,” she thundered, “to refuse to accept the gift of these humble people?  You have given insult by refusing to let them do what they can for you. ...You will never be able to give until you learn how to be a generous receiver.”

“You will never be able to give until you learn how to be a generous receiver.”  Gomes says, “Jesus himself could not have put it better.”  Gomes started accepting those love offerings, and it taught him what real wealth is.  Real wealth is not what we have.  Rather, real wealth is the ability to give what we have received.  Wealth begins with gratefully acknowledging and receiving all that God has given us.  It is from this that we learn to give and to serve others.

I think of the woman who poured very precious ointment over Jesus just before the Passion.  People grumbled about the extravagance of her gift, that it was a waste of money, but Jesus defended her and her love offering.  He rejoiced in what a beautiful thing she had done for him.  Jesus received, and then he gave his life. 

We can express our gratitude for all we’ve received in how we live, serving, giving, supporting, loving. When James and John and the other disciples are fighting for privilege, Jesus said, “Even the Son of Man came not to be served, but to serve, and to give away his life for others.” (Mk 10:45)  It’s an argument, and an invitation, for his disciples – for you and me – to grow in his likeness. 

We may fear that serving, that giving sacrificially, will feel a bit like a crucifixion, that it’ll be painful.  But I think deeper down we sense that serving, giving of ourselves, is the best thing we can do, that it enriches our lives, that it connects us with something bigger than ourselves.  It helps us step outside of ourselves.

The Greek word for stepping outside, standing beyond, is ekstasis, from which we get the word ecstasy.  Ecstasy expresses the intense delight of moving beyond ourselves.  Ecstasy.  It is the life of God, the life we will have fully with Jesus in heaven, and we are beginning to experience it now in receiving, giving, and serving.

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

The Rev. Lane Davenport

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            1 Example drawn from Peter Singer, ‘The Science Behind Our Generosity,’ Newsweek, March 9, 2009, p. 48.  He uses it to introduce the “bystander effect.”

            2 Rowan Williams, ‘In God’s Company,’ Christian Century, June 12, 2007, p. 24.

            3 Peter J. Gomes, The Good Book, William Morrow & Co. (1996), pp. 310-11.

©2009 John Lane Davenport

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