Preached on November 10, 2024, at First Presbyterian Church of Rolla. Based on Mark 12:38-44.
Tomorrow is Veterans Day. As we saw earlier, there are many people in our congregation who are veterans or their close family members. Thank you all for your service.
In the history of our nation, going back to 1775 when the Revolutionary War began, there have been roughly 1.2 million US military fatalities. Nearly half occurred in the Civil War, 620,000. The next largest was World War II, when we lost 405,399. These were people—mostly men—who gave their lives for something bigger than themselves. Sure, some were there voluntarily and some were drafted, but in the end, nobody dies in battle just because someone told them to go. They give their lives for love: love of country, love of an ideal, love of the people left behind that they’re trying to protect, or maybe love of the soldier fighting next to them.
In the 20th century, wars became more politicized and more criticized by the civilians back home. There are many legitimate criticisms of the policies, objectives, and practices of the US leadership in Korea, Vietnam, and the Cold War. But that doesn’t negate the honor of all the men and women who served our country. That doesn’t negate the honor of their self-sacrificial love.
We are all soldiers in Christ’s army. I remember when my church growing up had a “Crusade for Christ.” There are several hymns with that theme, and a whole denomination that calls itself the Salvation Army, whose clergy have military titles. Military imagery abounds in some segments of Christianity. But the thing is, the only weapon that Christ allows is love.
In certain corners of Christianity, people do “sword drills,” in which they search through the Bible for verses. This is based on verses like Hebrews 4:12, “For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.” But listen to what it really says: the word of God is like a sword. Not the Bible. We believe that Jesus Christ was the Word made flesh. It is his love that exposes the hatred that lies in every human heart, and his love that we should emulate. Whenever Jesus cited scripture, it was to expose the hypocrisy of the self-righteous, not to chastise so-called “sinners” who were on the margins of society. More often, instead of citing scripture, Jesus spoke with authority about his vision of a society built on love and mutual service.
Then when Jesus was arrested in Gethsemane, one disciple used a sword, but Jesus chastised him. Jesus could have called down 12 legions of angels, but he chose to go willingly with his captors. His so-called triumphant entry, riding a donkey on Palm Sunday, could have actually been triumphant in worldly terms, destroying the Roman garrison and establishing Christ’s kingdom through force. But that’s not what happened. Jesus chose humility. Jesus chose service. Jesus chose love.
The early Christians followed in his footsteps. They gained a reputation for welcoming everyone, regardless of ethnicity or slave status. They gained a reputation for serving everyone, regardless of ethnicity or religion. Little by little, their love for their neighbors, powered by their love of God, grew the church from a minor sect of a minor religion into a major movement.
Then Constantine converted, the Christian church made a deal with the Roman Empire, and things have been all downhill since then. Throughout history, whenever Christians have chosen the love of power over the power of love, they ended up serving neither God nor neighbor and ended up far from the kingdom of God.
We see that still today. About a year ago, I wrote a column for the Phelps County Focus that went somewhat viral, by Rolla standards, called, “The World’s Most Dangerous Person.” In it, I wrote, “There is no one more dangerous than someone who believes they have exclusive knowledge of the Truth and the duty to impose it on others. If you hold your beliefs with absolute certainty, there is no limit to the evil you can commit in service to them. Each action can be justified by an appeal to the higher good of serving God, no matter how it may hurt other people.”
Too many Christians fall into this trap. They start out with good intentions, but their self-righteousness convinces them that their only choice is to force their beliefs on others. But the only person in all of history who actually did know the Truth, who actually did have the authority to demand obedience, chose instead to lay down his life as a model of the way to God’s kingdom.
As part of my effort to revitalize the church, I received a report from MissionInsite. Altogether, it’s about 60 pages and includes demographic information, both current and projected, and opinion survey data. One section asked people who do not attend church why they don’t. The top reason is that they think it’s boring, old-fashioned, uninteresting, or irrelevant. Then the next several reasons are interrelated. People are disillusioned with religion. People don’t trust organized religion—perhaps related to a general distrust of all institutions. They don’t trust religious leaders. They think religion is too focused on money, and that religious people have strict and inflexible beliefs and are too judgmental in applying them.
These are all attributes that we see Jesus apply to the priests and scribes and Pharisees and Sadducees throughout the Gospels. In today’s passage, Jesus is specifically criticizing the scribes for desiring places of honor and for stealing money from the vulnerable.
I know you’re thinking something like what I think: I’m trustworthy. I’m flexible. I’m not judgmental. But I’m here to tell you: that doesn’t matter. Jim Drewniak used to tell me that it takes ten attaboys to overcome one “oh shoot.” That is, gaining trust is ten times harder, maybe a hundred times harder, than losing it. The reality is that we are a Christian church, and so we inherit all of the positive and negative attitudes that people have towards Christians. PC(USA) hasn’t had a major scandal around child abuse, but there have been a few cases, and regardless, we’re tarred with the same brush as those institutions that have done truly evil things to cover up abuse.
Another thing we’ve seen over the past few decades is an increasing willingness of pastors to stray into the political arena. Now, I know you can all guess how I voted, but I won’t tell you how to vote because as Martin Luther King said, the church is not the master or the servant of the state, but rather the conscience of the state. Many of my colleagues in churches across the country don’t feel that way. As a result, people outside the church just assume that all pastors are like the ones they see on TV. Or like the ones I’ve seen at city council meetings. The problem is that when you go down that road, the messiness of politics will inevitably force you to choose between your faith and your party. And every time the church chooses power, we always compromise the Gospel.
So even though I trust me, and you trust me, and I trust you, and we all trust one another, what have we done, as an institution, to earn the trust of those outside the church? Why would the average Rolla resident think we are any different from any other church?
And it’s not sufficient to just tell them. I frequently remind the students in my class that I am kind and generous and brilliant and inspiring. Oh, humble, too. I say it all tongue-in-cheek, because I know I’m no more brilliant and inspiring than any other instructor, and although I like to think that I’m kind, they may not see it that way. Anyway, just telling them that I care about their personal and academic success doesn’t matter. I can tell them all sorts of things about myself, but until I show them that I care, none of it matters.
And you know, I sometimes find myself acting like the scribes in this story. I have titles: professor and department chair. Those titles come with a certain level of respect, especially from people raised in certain cultures. If I spend too much time around students from India, I can start thinking that I really do deserve special treatment. But in the end, I have to remind myself that they aren’t respecting me, Jonathan Kimball, but the title, professor and chair. It’s just surface stuff, and in the end, I am no better than anyone else. I am better at a few things than other people are, but worse at many things. In the end, I am just a beloved child of God, like you are, like they are. The only honor that I should seek is the reflection of Christ’s glory.
Speaking of honor, one of the Ten Commandments is to honor your parents. In a patriarchal society, this rule was foundational to maintaining basic order and property rights. Being a parent is a simple act of biology. But parenting a child is hard. Parenting takes many forms. For example, my secretary is a foster parent who has adopted some of the kids that have been placed with her while others just pass through as their biological families get their act together. I overhear her dealing with a lot of really unpleasant things. That’s parenting, even if she is only the temporary mom. More broadly, many of us have people in our lives we might consider to have guided us like a parent would, and many of us have people in our lives that we consider to be our bonus children.
I’d like you to think of this as analogous to our place in God’s kingdom. Being a Christian is easy. All you have to do is say that you believe in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. Done. But being Christian, that is, behaving the way Christ commanded, following Christ’s guidance, and emulating Christ’s example, is supremely difficult. Not always enjoyable, either, but rewarding.
Last weekend, I was at a workshop in Wichita, so I missed the presbytery meeting in Iola. I decided to stop and worship at First Presbyterian Church of Iola on my way back—it was a good way to break up the trip and foster a little bit of connection with my larger Presbyterian family. A visitor from the Presbyterian Mission Agency, Rev. Lemuel Garcia-Arroyo, preached on the story in Mark 10 about the rich man who asked, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus reminded him of the Ten Commandments, which he claimed to have kept since his youth. So Jesus loved him and said, “One thing you lack. Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.” He went away sad, because he had great wealth.
This is Jesus’s recurring command: give up everything you have for the sake of His kingdom. If you want to enter God’s kingdom in the here and now, you must be willing to forego all of the riches and honors of the present age. If you wish to be first, you must instead be last and servant of all.
Which brings us to the widow. While the scribes liked the honors that came with their social status, the widow truly gave her whole self. Widows at that time were on the very margins of society. Usually, they had no means of supporting themselves, no social status, nothing. Throughout the Hebrew scriptures there are instructions to care for the widows and orphans, as stand-ins for all those who are in need. So here’s a person who has almost nothing and yet chooses to give the little she has for the glory of God. Now, the fact that she gave it to a corrupt Temple that would be destroyed a few decades later by the Romans does not negate the value of her gift of self. Giving to the church is a spiritual practice, a way to more nearly approach God’s kingdom by loosening your grip on the possessions that get in your way.
In the same way, we are called to give our whole selves for God’s glory. No matter who you are, you have a gift to offer for the glory of God’s kingdom. You are a beloved child of God, a perfect vessel for God’s love. You may not be able to change the world, but you can change one person’s world.
We have been given a task: to proclaim the good news of God’s coming kingdom of love. We are not called to glorify ourselves or to enjoy riches and honor that lead to pride. We are called to reflect God’s glory, to empty ourselves and give our whole selves as servants of all. Let us go now and be Christian, be Christ-like, in our community, demonstrating the power of love to heal, to reconcile, and to transform. Amen.
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