A Sermon by Pastor Tom Lacey . . .

KNOW YOUR PLACE

Mark 10:35-45, Preached at Congregational Church of Boca Raton, October 18, 2009

A married couple in their early 60s was out celebrating their 35th wedding anniversary in a quiet, romantic little restaurant. Suddenly, a tiny yet beautiful fairy appeared on their table and said, "For being such an exemplary married couple and for being faithful to each other for all this time, I will grant you each a wish." "Ooh, I want to travel around the world with my darling husband," said the wife. The fairy moved her magic stick and, abracadabra, two tickets for the new QM2 luxury liner appeared in her hands. Now it was the husband's turn. He thought for a moment and said, "Well, this is all very romantic, but an opportunity like this only occurs once in a lifetime, so I'm sorry, my love, but my wish is to have a wife 30 years younger than me." The wife and the fairy were deeply disappointed, but a wish is a wish. So the fairy made a circle with her magic stick, and, abracadabra, the husband became 92 years old.

What we read this morning is a scripture passage inviting us to reflect on Jesus’ sense of the purpose of his life and death. The clearest statement of that sense comes to expression in our last verse, the climax of our reading: “For (even) the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Christ’ life and death were together one piece, since the ultimate service was ultimate sacrifice. Jesus voluntarily gave his life as a ransom for many.

Now in Greek usage “many” meant a large number, but not all. Here however “many” has a different meaning; it means the multitude, in contrast to the individual. “A ransom for many” doesn’t intend to indicate that some might not be included, though that remains a possibility; it is a reference to those who do accept the gift to be set free, the many, us here, the universal Church. The word “ransom” comes from a world in which it was possible to buy the freedom of prisoners of war, slaves, or condemned criminals, like we see today in kidnapping situations. The amount paid was called a “ransom;” the act of setting a person free in this way was called “redemption;” and the person accomplishing the liberation, the one paying the ransom was called a “redeemer.” Of all the statements of the meaning of Jesus’ life and death, this one, “For the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many,” has spoken with special power to Christians through the ages. But here’s the thing about all of this: As Christian Author James Hewett said, “God did not save us to be a sensation. God saved us to be servants.”
          This takes us back to the beginning of this scene, back to “James and John, the sons of Zebedee.” They were fishing when Jesus called them, as his very first disciples, and these two plus Peter became the closest friends Jesus had. Whenever Jesus wanted to get clear of the crowds, but still wanted company, he’d take these three; they were his “inner circle.” Still, as much as Jesus apparently liked James and John, he must have realized they were kind of pushy, because he gave them the nickname, “The Sons of Thunder.” James and John weren’t shrinking violets; “sons of thunder” are “in-your-face” kinds of guys. They were the go-getters of the group, along with Peter, bold and it seems a bit overconfident in their abilities. Whatever honor or greatness Jesus would rise to, they were equal to be the right-hand and left-hand men to Jesus. “We’ll follow you anywhere, Jesus; just make sure that at the end of the road there’s a cabinet post, or an ambassadorship, or a favored seat at the heavenly banquet.” But Jesus gives them an answer they don’t want to hear: “It’s not up to me who gets the choice appointments, boys. But I can promise you this: Follow me, and you’ll certainly share my suffering. Follow me, and you'll learn what sacrifice is all about.” And learn they did. James eventually dies by the sword, at the order of King Herod, and his brother John ends up being exiled to a remote island, where he dies, under house arrest.

Today we live in an age of padded pews, of worship services carefully tailored to the tastes of the “consumer,” of churches with their own food courts and fitness centers and on-premises catering. There are actually churches in this country that offer valet parking! There’s probably never been a time in the history of the church when you could be a Christian this easily, with so little pain, with so little sacrifice. We can even make the church end up revolving around us and our satisfaction. But the church that Jesus wanted sees itself differently, as those who serve, made up of people who see through the mirage of the world's self-centeredness, and find their purpose in doing for others. It is no life to have only your own life. There is no value in keeping only one's own desires in the driver's seat. Where is the joy when each decision has as its intended target one's own comfort and convenience? Christians deny themselves for Jesus' sake. Christians seek to do God's work, remaining humble so that someone else may receive joy. Servants of God read scripture, pray for strength, sacrifice for others, see themselves in Jesus' eyes, find themselves in God's word, walk by a different code, hope in a different world, believe in a different way. Let yourself find the new you. Give yourself the chance to be a better you. Free yourself to be God's you, a true servant, a follower of Jesus.

If you wanted an example of someone who takes seriously Jesus’ instruction that the true meaning of life is to answer the call to serve others, you would not go wrong by looking at Greg Mortenson. In 1993, Greg Mortenson was part of a team ascending the world’s second-highest mountain, only slightly lower than Everest, K2. After 78 days of struggle against the mountain, which included helping rescue another climber, Mortenson got to within 600 meters of the summit. But then failing strength and altitude sickness forced him to turn back. A local guide helped him off the mountain, but they got separated when Mortenson made a wrong turn. He ended up in the primitive mountain village of Korphe in Pakistan. Too sick to go on, he stayed there under the hospitable care of the villagers while he recuperated. The people of Korphe belong to an ethnic group called Balti. Many of them, like the more well-known Sherpas of Tibet, work as high-altitude porters for climbing expeditions. But one important difference between the two groups is that the Sherpas are Buddhists and the Baltis are Muslims. While in the village, Mortenson observed the harsh realities of the Balti way of life. They live in isolated, remote mountain valleys and subsist on marginal crops of grain and small herds of yaks. Because of the altitude, the climate is severe. Medical care is almost nonexistent, and people die from things that would be routinely treated and cured in other place, even other places in Pakistan. Among the Balti, children under 12 months of age have a 35 percent mortality rate, primarily due to diarrhea-induced dehydration. During the brutal winters, villagers retreat into tiny basement dugouts and spend six months huddled together, barely kept warm by smoky yak-dung fires.

For the children who do survive, there are often no schools. In Korphe, Mortenson saw 82 kids kneeling on frosty ground in the open, trying to learn. The Pakistani government provided no teacher, and the villagers couldn’t afford one on their own. They shared a teacher with a neighboring village, but he was in Korphe only three days a week. The rest of the time, the kids gathered in the open to work on the lessons the teacher had assigned. Though Mortenson had no money and no idea how to raise any, he resolved to build a school for the village. When he returned to California, he took a job as an emergency room nurse and started sending letters to celebrities and anyone he could think of who might help with the school. That attempt failed, but eventually a man who’d made a good bit of money in the semiconductor industry (and was also a climber) read about Mortenson’s quest in a climbers’ newsletter. That man contacted Mortenson and donated the necessary money. Mortenson then went back to Pakistan, purchased building materials and rode in a trunk to get them near Korphe. From there, Mortenson had to solve the considerable problem of getting the materials to the remote mountain village while fending off tribal chieftains and others who tried to shuttle the supplies toward their own uses. The people of Korphe themselves solved the final part of the logistical problem. A rock slide had blocked the road some 18 miles away. The men of the community, accustomed to hauling heavy loads on their backs for climbing expeditions, moved the materials that same way. One photo in Mortenson’s book shows the men with massive loads of lumber on their backs, laboring toward their village ... with great smiles on their faces.

After Mortenson’s school was built and his promise was kept, he returned to the States but continued to be haunted by the needs he’d seen in the mountain villages. To make a long story short, Mortenson resumed raising money so he could help other villages build schools. He kept returning to Pakistan, and eventually to Afghanistan as well, to build more schools. As of last year, he and the organization he founded had established more than 78 schools in rural and often volatile regions of the two countries. He not only constructed the buildings but often paid for teachers and learning materials, too. Those schools provide education to more than 28,000 children (including 18,000 girls) in regions where few opportunities existed before. Mortenson hasn’t profited financially from all this. Although he now draws a salary from his organization, it’s small. He has faced considerable dangers, including an eight-day armed kidnapping by a Taliban group. It eventually let him go after becoming convinced of his good intentions. (Some fighters even gave him money for the schools.) In 2003, Mortenson escaped a firefight between feuding Afghan warlords by hiding for eight hours under a load of putrid animal hides. He has been the target of two fatwas from Islamic mullahs who didn’t like his helping girls receive an education, has been investigated by the CIA and, after 9/11, received hate mail and even death threats from Americans for helping Muslim children receive an education. But by his dogged efforts, his selfless actions and his willingness to meet people where they are without trying to impose on them some other agenda, Mortenson has gained the trust of Islamic leaders, government officials, military commanders and tribal chiefs in both Pakistan and Afghanistan. They see him as a humble hero. Mortenson’s book is called Three Cups of Tea, which refers to an old Balti proverb: “The first time you share tea with a Balti, you are a stranger. The second time you take tea, you are an honored guest. The third time you share a cup of tea, you become family.”

Greg Mortenson has found his place as a family member of the Balti, building schools for children without schools. Know your place, your place in God's plan, in Christ's hope for this world.

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