Hey again kids! Since it’s another Sunday here’s another sermon. While you may not exactly know the drill yet, the whole thing is going on after the break. Enjoy it … or don’t. But email me comments (pastorrecoil at the-bunker.net) so I know if I’m good or bad at this game. We may even talk about it on air!
Mark 9:30-37; James 3:13-4:3,7-8a; Psalm 54; Jeremiah 11:18-20
How many of you remember the kids game “King of the Mountain”? I’m pretty sure it’s one of the many games that one can’t play at school anymore, mostly because the point of the game was to remove whoever happened to be king from the top of the mountain, which in our case was usually a snow pile made in winter time, with careful execution of appropriate force. That’s a nice way of saying we kicked, pushed, tackled, punched, and basically did everything in our power to get to the top and stay there. One of the main reasons to play this in winter of course was the extra padding one got from the spacesuit-like snow gear popular in the 80s. Playing this game without the padding would not be a pleasant experience, something we realized pretty fast when we tried to play it on the playground. I think I still have a scar or two from those attempts…
This kind of game, where we try and fight our way to the top at the expense of others is called a “zero-sum” game. The winner is the winner because everyone else is the loser. And it’s keenly understood that the winner is the “greatest” – mostly cause you probably have a few bruises from the winner at this point to make SURE you knew he was the winner. While you might feel better about yourself if you were closer to the top when the game ended, the simple fact remains that you didn’t win if you were sitting at the top of the hill, looking down own all the other losers. I’d like to make it clear I never won King of the Mountain. There’s still a touch of bitterness there.
But this game is a kind of metaphor for a lot of human interactions. There’s a branch of economics called “game theory” which uses things like this to look at how people interact. There’s another game called the Prisoner’s dilemma, and it goes something like this:
Two suspects are arrested by the police. The police have insufficient evidence for a conviction, and, having separated both prisoners, visit each of them to offer the same deal. If one testifies (defects from the other) for the prosecution against the other and the other remains silent (cooperates with the other), the betrayer goes free and the silent accomplice receives the full 10-year sentence. If both remain silent, both prisoners are sentenced to only six months in jail for a minor charge. If each betrays the other, each receives a five-year sentence. Each prisoner must choose to betray the other or to remain silent. Each one is assured that the other would not know about the betrayal before the end of the investigation. How should the prisoners act?
The “best” solution is for both prisoners to stay silent, and then each person has the smallest sentence. However, in most human interactions, the option which will always leave the greatest reward for an individual prisoner is to betray. Since staying silent gets either 6 months or 10 years, it is a “better” solution for the individual to betray and get either no jail time or 5 years.
These sorts of games show how humans work – we always look for the solution that will get us on top. We want to be recognized as “King of the Mountain”, or make sure that we have the greatest reward for ourselves. But that’s not the way Jesus works. He sets up a different ideal. In our gospel lesson today, the disciples are in the middle of their own brand of King of the Mountain. Jesus, Peter, James, and John had just come down from the mountain after the Transfiguration to see the other 9 disciples trying to cast out an evil spirit and failing rather miserably. Those other 9 didn’t feel so good about themselves after they were unable to cast out that spirit while Jesus was able to do it fairly easily. Peter was pretty low on the list after he embarrassed himself by telling Jesus off about the whole going to Jerusalem to die thing. So as they were walking along the road, they got into to which of them was the head disciple. Who is #1 of the 12 and #2 to Jesus? Of course when Jesus calls them on it, they wisely decide to hold their tongues because they knew they’d get a rebuke otherwise.
But Jesus knew what was going on. So instead of offering a rebuke, he teaches them with a sort of parable. He brings up this little child, and basically says, “The greatest among you is the one who is a servant the least in the world”. He’s turning the normal logic on its head. Human wisdom says, “It’s best to betray others to get yourself on top.” But God’s wisdom is, “It’s best to serve others, and not focus on yourself.”
The passage from James’ letter expands on this concept. He contrasts earthly wisdom and God’s wisdom, showing how the one leads to conflict, envy, selfishness and the like, whereas God’s wisdom is pure, considerate, peace-loving, and merciful. We’re not to fight among ourselves, but to submit to God.
It’s the same message Jesus is getting at. Our life as his followers is not about getting ourselves ahead, it’s about serving God’s kingdom – through serving those who are least among us. Jesus isn’t saying that to be the best we have to serve, He’s saying that we shouldn’t worry about being the best. Instead we should be focusing on living our lives in faithful service to God and our neighbors around us, sharing the love He has for us with everyone we meet, and being willing to welcome those who the world has decided are unwelcome-able.