St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Wesley Chapel, FL
Preacher: The Rev. Adrienne R. Hymes
Proper 20/Year B ▪ September 22, 2024
Mark 9:30-37
It has been said that there are no stupid questions and that the only stupid questions are the ones that are never asked. As Jesus and his disciples were moving through Galilee, Jesus was privately teaching them along the way, a safe interpersonal space free from intrusion. As Jesus told his disciples about his impending suffering, death and resurrection, the disciples did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.
A characteristic of Mark’s gospel is the cluelessness of Jesus’ disciples. Jesus’ teaching was not the first time that the disciples had heard this passion, death and resurrection prediction.[1] Had they not listened closely to Jesus the first time? Maybe they did not take him seriously when he spoke about this matter. How could it be that Jesus’ own disciples, even when he shared insider information with them, do not seem to fully understand him when they were steeped in His presence and walked with him in his ministry day by day?
The human emotion of fear is powerful. The scripture says that fear kept the disciples from asking Jesus for clarification about what he was saying. Even in the safe, intimate space of the disciples with their beloved teacher, the collective fear of being exposed as inadequate in their understanding, delayed them from deeper knowledge about their own purpose.
Perhaps you have heard someone say, or even have said yourself, “I’ve been an Episcopalian all my life, or most of my life, and I never understood why we do this or why we say that, but I was afraid to ask.” There can be an isolating sense of inadequacy, similar to that of the disciples, when acknowledging that we don’t know something or admitting that we need help to understand our faith tradition and practices.
Looking closer at the passage, it is possible that the clueless disciples might not have been as clueless as Mark characterizes them to be throughout the gospel. After hearing Jesus’ declaration about his passion, death and resurrection, the disciples argued amongst themselves about who was the greatest. I suspect that the argument erupted out of some collective awareness, not cluelessness, that when Jesus was no longer with them as the lead teacher, preacher and healer, that at some point, one of them would have to step up and step into Jesus’ footsteps—ready or not.
In Jesus’ absence, the responsibility of carrying on his ministry of caring for lives, and saving souls, would fall on the disciples, with one of them presumably taking the lead position. While Jesus was not included in their argument, he knew that they were anxious about earthly things, such as their leadership ranking. As an invitation for their better understanding, Jesus asked the twelve about their argument, and again they were silent in his presence.
Jesus then took a different approach in order to continue his teaching. The lowliest creatures in society, considered insignificant and without rights, were children. Jesus took a little child, invisible to the larger society beyond Jesus’ inner circle, and made it visible to his disciples by putting it among them, and by taking it in his arms. “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me,” said Jesus (v.37). This was not a Jesus lecture; it was Jesus praxis—up close and personal. Jesus’ focus on the little child highlights some universal characteristics that are relevant for his disciples then and his 21st century disciples now.
We know that little children soak up a lot of information through active and passive learning, though they may not fully understand the information. The disciples, even though they may not have fully understood Jesus’ teachings, were also like sponges steeped in the presence of Jesus and in his public ministry.
What little kids possess, which the disciples did not, in this moment, is the ability to ask the question, “Why,” with wild abandon. Little kids are unencumbered by the fear of asking the proverbial “stupid question.” We know, also, that children are physically, mentally and emotionally vulnerable to both intended and unintended influences. This is true for human beings regardless of age or social status.
Finally, little children are solely dependent on their parent or parent figure for food, shelter, clothing and safety. Recall that the disciples had given up their livelihoods and left their families in order to follow Jesus, the one who would transform their limited understanding of livelihood and, indeed, life itself. By elevating the lowest in their society to a place of dignity in his arms, Jesus had not shown the disciples a prop; he showed them a mirror.
The disciples were concerned about being the greatest, but they needed to be focused on the living mirror, placed among them, and to reflect the child who asks “why” without fear; the little child who soaks up Jesus’ instruction and wisdom; the little child who solely depends on their parent or parent figure to keep them alive.
For us, Jesus’ disciples are not just models of discipleship; they are our mirrors! When we look at them, we see ourselves—imperfect, clueless at times, always learning, and proactively seeking to make the invisible of this world, visible and meaningful through Christ. Like the disciples, we are on a lifelong journey with Jesus which demands that we courageously ask questions of the scriptures, ask questions of God in prayer, and ask questions of Jesus about our Christian faith, and our Episcopal identity, as they are lived and expressed within and without the Church—without fear.
Such intentional questioning can only serve to redirect our earthly attention toward the heavenly things, and to deepen our understanding of our own faith and clarify our own purpose in God’s unifying mission already-at-work in the world. God invites us into his intimate space where He can privately teach and impart his wisdom to his children. And, when we don’t understand his message the first time, we must not let fear keep us from asking God, “Why,” so that he can take a different approach in our lifelong development as Christ’s disciples. As you depart this place, be encouraged to walk toward fear, in all aspects of your life, when fear shows up within you. Don’t be afraid to ask God for clarity when God speaks to you. He, alone, has the answers that are uniquely fashioned out of his highest good for your benefit.
As we are placed among the earthly things that are passing away, may God, our Father, the one on whom we solely depend, give us the courage to ask God for divine understanding. And may we, like the little child, be taken up in Christ’s arms, and held up to this broken world, as a mirror reflection of Christ, the one in whose arms we are placed; the one through whom heaven has come near to us; and the one by whom we recognize and love the heavenly things that are already among us. Amen.
[1] Mark 8:31
