September 20, 2009
James 3: 13-18
Mark 9: 33-37
"A Way of Living"
Jesus was creating an entirely different community, a new way of living. His community would stand the old structure on its head. In order to explain what he was doing, Jesus used parables, he taught, he preached and he showed by example and graphic action what he envisioned. Here is one of his action depictions of his new community, this kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven.
Jesus and his disciples were intimately familiar with the way of worship that held sway in Jerusalem. We know they spent time in the great Temple built by King Herod as a gesture of good will to the hostile Jewish subjects of Rome. The Temple was designed and built on a pattern of sacred space and sacred separation, a pattern that flowed from top to bottom though out the religion and the wider culture.
The Temple was really a series of courtyards. The Temple's outer courtyard was called the Court of the Gentiles. It was here that vendors peddled their wares, sold animals for sacrifices, and that citizens and conquered people from all over the Roman Empire gathered, talked, argued and worked. Everyone, pagan and believer, was free to enter the Court of the Gentiles.
Beyond the Court of the Gentiles was an area that only Hebrews could enter. For a non-believer, a Gentile, to enter this second courtyard was a crime punishable by death.
Next came the Court of the Women, a place where Hebrew women were free to go, free to move about. This was as close to the center as the Hebrew women could come. This far, but absolutely no further toward the center.
Next, up an enormous stairway and through huge gates was the Court of Israel set-aside exclusively for Hebrew men. Beyond the Court of Israel was the Court of Priests set-aside for the priestly Levites who served in the Temple. Further inside and elevated deep within the Temple was the inner sanctum, the Holy of Holies hidden from sight by a veil of the finest linen. It was here that for one hour on one day each year, Yom Kippur, the High Priest alone would enter and pray to God for the people of Israel.
The Temple was the physical manifestation, the representation of the society. Power and authority, privilege and access were concentrated in the center. Every degree of deemed unworthiness was stripped away until only one man stood alone in a room with God.
Of course, we do not have to travel back to Jesus' Jerusalem to understand how the Temple worked. We know about the power of sacred and separated space. From the White House to Wall Street, from the coveted corner office in a big law firm to a membership in the Augusta National Golf Club, it is the same today as it was in Jesus' day.
The more exclusive a place, the more restricted the access, the more protection paid for, the greater the sense of power at the center.
At the same time we know there is an equal and opposite concentration and isolation. Not at the center, but at the edges, the fringes. As the center becomes stronger and stronger, the weak and the poor and the irrelevant are forced ever further outward. They are clustered on the edge where they can be controlled and ignored.
Those on the edges can approach the center, the Holy of Holies, but only for limited purposes and with severely limited access. They can come to work; cut the grass, wash windows and keep the center tidy.
Those who do not really count, who have nothing to offer except work, are also allowed from time to time to approach the center to petition. They can ask for help, relief or some small change in their lives. But it is not easy. To approach the center, to pass through the walls, gates and guards that the center erects is exhausting and dangerous and usually futile.
On other point: Just as those who are kept out rarely seek to come in, those from the center rarely seek to leave. They might venture to sight see, to fly over and gawk, perhaps to waive and smile if votes are needed. Those who are sanitized, safe, and surrounded with power may venture into the realm of the unclean and voiceless ones but never alone, never without protection and a quick way back.
Jesus understood the Temple and what it represented. He understood the places of power and the power of place. He understood the sense of the sacred that emanated from the places of privilege and exclusivity.
Jesus knew what a community based on separation, distance, exclusion and position was like; how destructive it was, how it claimed sole access to God in the hidden room shrouded in linen and visited by one man one hour on one day a year. Jesus understood well a community that trusted that the seat of power was in the palace, behind the walls and gates and guards.
The disciples also understood this community, much better than they ever understood the one Jesus was creating. They knew it was their job to limit access, to keep the rabble out of the center and away from Jesus. They knew their greatness, their power however meager depended on two things: keeping others away from their Rabbi and keeping themselves as close to him as possible.
The circle of power was as clear and formidable then as it is now. And anyone with a stake in this system of privilege and exclusion did all he or she could to preserve it.
St. Mark describes the circles well, almost as if he is mimicking the outer and inner courtyards of the Temple itself. There is the city of Capernaum, where Jesus began his ministry; then the area around the house where the crowd mingled hoping for a view of the leader; then the house itself. Within the house is a circle of believers and then the inner circle of disciples and finally, in the very center, sat Jesus. A perfect picture of how power, privilege and sacred space worked then and now.
A perfect picture except for one tiny point: at the very center Jesus welcomes a child. Everything is suddenly backwards and upside down. At the very center of power the leader welcomes and embraces a child, the least of the worthless ones in Jesus' time.
Not only does Jesus bring the child into the center, but as he embraces the child he says, "Whoever welcomes one of these little children in my name, welcomes me; and whoever welcomes me does not welcome me but the one who sent me." Jesus draws an exact identify between the child, himself, and God. Whoever sees Jesus in the least of these and welcomes the least into the center, welcomes God. Whoever excludes the child, excludes the least, excludes Jesus and God.
To argue about greatness, about who has the most power and the greatest value; to fight over access to the Holy of Holies is shear foolishness when everyone, even the most insignificant, especially the most insignificant is invited and embraced into the very heart of the community.
The scene Jesus creates for us reminds me of another scene I encountered years ago. I was running along the shores of Lake Michigan in a very upscale neighborhood when I came across an enormous, elaborate, and locked gate. It was crafted from wrought iron, anchored in concrete, and stood at least ten feet tall. But there was no fence; just a gate with no fence. I stopped to walk around the gate several times just to make sure. It was indeed an enormous gate with no fence.
The community Jesus pictured for his disciples was the same: a gated community where Jesus is the gate and there is no fence. A community with power at the center but whose power was directed to bringing in and embracing the least, the insignificant, the irrelevant. It was a community that measured greatness by how well you brought in and welcomed the least. Nothing else mattered.
It is good for us to remember whom we are competing against for a place at the center in this new community with Jesus. Our competition is a child, a child who knows only to come with open arms and open hands, grasping nothing of value, wanting only to be hugged by Jesus. For the child, nothing else matters.
One picture, Jesus in the center with a child, is all we need to carry in our hearts. This picture is our way into the new community, into a new way of living, into the kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. |
