Pentecost 18B/Proper 20 (Mark 9:30-37)

​“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.”

Jesus’ disciples are silent in response. It’s easy to imagine how fear would creep into their minds upon hearing about the kind of death he would face. They are not yet prepared to follow him that far. It’s too extreme—just not yet. So, their defense mechanism turns their eyes to an optimistic future. Instead of asking the questions we think they should, they justify their decision to follow Jesus despite the grim forecast he himself has given. They begin to ask among themselves, “Who will lead us once Jesus is gone? Who will be the greatest to take his place?”

It’s not hard to imagine the disciples debating who might be the most qualified candidate to succeed Jesus. The beloved disciple, presumed by scholars to be John in John’s gospel, appears to compete with Peter, who often functions as the oldest son in the family. Consider James and John’s mother, who asks Jesus to ensure her sons sit at his right and left in the future kingdom, causing everyone else to be upset.

To all these debates and potential schisms—indeed, they did happen over the centuries (fact: there are over 45,000 denominations globally, and for what?)—Jesus might say, “Hey folks, I’m not dead yet. I’m still here.” I often joke, “When two or three are gathered in Jesus’ name, there is a dispute.” This only happens when we fail to pay attention to the most crucial part of Jesus’ statement and don’t ask the right question, which is: “What does his resurrection look like? What happens after he rises again?”

The answer is already in the lesson this morning, repeated twice in case the disciples and we miss it: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all…whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

Jesus is not simply telling us to be like Mr. Rogers (though we should pay more attention to the educational needs and resources of children in our nation). The disciples ought to wonder not only about what his resurrection would look like but also where to find it—not elsewhere, but in the most vulnerable. Taking up our own cross as a skillful tool to discern which actions benefit the most and harm the least is one thing. But looking through the lens of the cross to see those around us who are suffering is another. That is how we discover the risen Christ in them. The lens of the cross is to have compassion, to lessen others’ suffering by being a presence of Christ’s peace.

Christ is risen in the vulnerable. There’s no need to look above in the sky but below in the lives of those who suffer, whether from the irresponsibility of authorities or their own choices. Our calling, then, is to create the presence of peace, compassion, and grace within ourselves and invite others in. Accepting the risen Christ in others is the Christian vocation, to be risen again and again in a culture of ignorance and death. In doing so, our skillful acts of cultivating the depth of God within are life-giving, others-receiving, and community-forming.