Wisdom 2:12-20
Psalm 54:3-8
James 3:16-4:3
Mark 9:30-37

The Heart God Seeks

What is it about the downfall of the great ones that captures our attention and excites our interest? We say, "How the mighty have fallen!" (perhaps not realizing that we are quoting from the 2 Samuel 1:25). What is it about the fall of great ones that uplifts people. It is a mystery, something down deep that we do not fully understand. But it seems always to have been so. For Boccaccio's De Casibus Virorum Illustrium, a collection of 56 biographies of great men who suffered a reversal of fortunes, was one of the best-sellers across Europe during the Middle Ages.

In this morning's Gospel, the Lord Jesus reveals that He will be betrayed, delivered into the hands of men, and be murdered. Amazingly, no one among His disciples responds. A strange silence takes hold. And then later an audible murmur is heard. Jesus asks what they were talking about, for He could hear the tone of their bumptious conversation. "Well, yes," they admit. They were talking amongst themselves. They were arguing about who was greatest among them. What is it about the downfall of the great ones that touches so many at a primitive level stirring up the lower instincts? As a boy, I would hear old people say at the death of a millionaire, "But he's dead now, so who came out ahead in the end?"

But the heart and mind of God is opposite this dog-pack mentality in every way. By His Nature God is great. Do you remember the child's prayer that begins, "God is good. God is great."? God alone is good, Jesus tells us (Luke 18:19). And He alone is truly great. This is the essential fact of the Incarnation of God. He began in Heavenly splendor, a Power and Being beyond our furthest comprehension. Yet, He emptied Himself of unimaginable dimension to enter the narrow confines of our humanity. If Moses by merely seeing God had to veil the brilliance of his face lest others be overwhelmed, then how thick must the veil of Jesus flesh have been to hide the brilliance of being God? Truly, the Son of God impoverished Himself to the furthest extreme in order to become one of us.

Nonetheless, humans of the first century could not see what overwhelmed and grieved the angels: His divine beauty disfigured and pressed into the tiny prison-house of our human brokenness. No human was able to detect His divinity during His time on earth — not Mary, not Joseph, not His brothers or the Twelve. Yes, Simeon and Hannah knew that Jesus was the Long-awaited-One, but they did not realize the depth and breadth of this fulfillment of prophecy, that they held God in their arms. No one could see it. No one looked for it. For the very concept of emptying oneself, impoverishing oneself, subtracting oneself of every strength and asset, diminishing oneself to the point of ignominy, all for the sake of love — this is foreign to the human spirit in the main. But it is God's way, and has been since He stooped down to Eden to grant friendship to Adam and Eve.

In order to follow Him, to be like Him, He tells us that we must do this, too. In our Gospel lesson this morning, He says, "If anyone would be first, he must be last of all and servant of all." In that same passage, we learn that the Lord of Life — the One Whom they saw give sight to the blind, Whom they saw make the deaf to hear, Whom they saw make the lame to walk, and in their presence raised from the dead a man who had lain rotting for several days — this Man, they are told, must suffer treachery and death. Shocking words, grievous words .... but only if they are heard by a loving and devoted heart.

In our Wisdom reading this morning, we heard,

I am of an age to have known men who had fought in World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan. Several have shared a guilt that followed them all their lives. You know, serving as chaplain in a large Roman Catholic Medical Center meant that I met many men who were dying. And they wanted to talk. They had seen combat. They had been surrounded by live fire. And they admitted with a sense of reluctance the relief they felt when the man next to them was hit, but not them. Yes, this man might have been a close friend, even a best friend, but to be perfectly honest there was this moment of exhilaration because they were not the one who was hit. They asked, shouldn't the first emotion have been grief? And it made them sick to their stomachs that they were glad before feelings of sadness overtook them. Yes, grief did come, but exhilaration came first. And it gnawed at them and shamed them and offended their sense of honor.

I told them, we must begin from where we are. We cannot repeal the law of gravity. Yes, we are broken, yet in this brokenness they were faithful. They did not desert. They did not cower. Yes, they felt relief at being alive, but the main thing is they did not fail. In the Last Judgment we will not be convicted for our passing thoughts, feelings, or strong desires. After all, these brave men went on fighting though their own lives were being offered up as a sacrifice.

The lesson for us this morning as we consider the self-centered Disciples is this: they were selfish. They were cowardly and faithless, and all would run and desert. But that was not to be the whole story. They would offer themselves to the point of sacrifice and martyrdom in their faithfulness, in the end. And that was all that really mattered, like the son who refused to work in the vineyard, but later did so. The vineyard — where the blood of sacrifice is pressed and poured out and then offered up as a fragrant sacrifice.

As the Disciples on the road to Capernaum stood near to God and did not see Him, so we today are surrounded by Heaven, which finally is the only stable and lasting reality, but most do not see it, indeed, refuse to see it. Our Guardian Angels see it, and they see us in all our frailty and imperfection. Nonetheless, they continue to watch over us and sacrifice for us day after day. How many of us offer even a prayer of thanks for them? God "knocks on the door" of our hearts, but how many of us get out of our chair to answer it? He offers us friendship, yet most of us spend very little time thinking about this only-important love, what it might mean to us, much less contemplate what is required of us in such a life-changing relationship. If you think getting married life-changing, think of what it means to come into communion and intimate friendship with God. You see, ending each day with an examination of conscience is a custom that has nearly vanished in our time.

Like the Apostles, most of us spend our lives looking in a mirror seeing everyone and everything through a glass of vain imaginings. Meantime, we are ever in the presence of angels and of God, Who numbers the hairs on our heads. This attention He pays to us is a mystery .... even a miracle: "What is man that Thou art mindful of him?" (Ps 8:4-8). Being a true friend to God, being humble, thinking of others first — this is the heart that God seeks.

But He does not abandon us in our personal fog and vanity. He does not leave us to our lower instincts — as St. James writes today, to "the passions that are at war in [our] members." Certainly, our angels are there to encourage us. But just as important, God has designed the world such that in our midst, and never far from any of us, He has placed the simple and innocent heart that He wishes for us. This great exemplar will not intimidate us, will not lord over us. We need not apply for an audience to speak with this great personage. For the heart we seek beats in the chest of our children, our humble and caring children, who are far most likely to see God than we are.

Years ago a bishop with whom I served a summer chapel told me a story that went back to his earliest cure as a young priest, way out near the West Virginia panhandle. A girl of that remote and rural parish needed a transfusion. Her brother was an exact match, and the country doctor, who planned to carry out the procedure using two twin beds in their home, sat down with the boy and said, "Son, your sister is very ill. She will not get better without the donation of your blood. Would you give her your blood?"

The boy thought for a moment in silence and said, "Yes, I want my sister to be well. I will give her my blood."

So they prepared the bedroom and began the transfusion with the two children lying side-by-side. At one point, the boy, feeling weak, asked the doctor, "Is it working?"

"Yes," he replied. "It's working very well. Your sister is going to be fine."

And then the boy asked in a simple, even tone, "When will I die?"

"Die?!" the doctor said. "You're not going to die!"

"But you asked if she could have my blood. And I know you cannot live without your blood."

Here is the love a child. It does not count the cost. Love comes first. All else must follow. Is this not the same love of God Who gave His only begotten Son?

We must protect the innocent world of our children. We must surround their "heart of God" with every good and wholesome influence. And, for our own sakes, we must get down on one knee, let all the other cares of life scatter like a bad vapor, and get to know them. For the heart of a child is the path that opens on to Heaven's gate.

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.