The Paradox of Powerlessness

I don’t know about you, but there are times when I really wish the Gospels included more information about Jesus’ disciples.  For example, wouldn’t it be interesting to be able to listen in on the disciples’ conversation en route to Capernaum? I can picture Peter, perhaps still stung by Jesus’ rebuke in last week’s Gospel, reminding the others that he was still in line for the top job! I can almost hear Andrew answer, “OK, brother, but don’t forget that I met him first, and I introduced you to him!” And John chiming in, “but I’m the one he’s closest to!” And, of course, Judas, “I’m the one he trusts with the money, without me where would you all be!”

Instead, the Gospel today [Mark 9:30-37] tells us that when Jesus asked what they had been arguing about, they were suddenly (and suspiciously) tongue-tied, and that Jesus, ever the teacher, took the opportunity to teach them a lesson.

Actually, this was the second time Jesus had tried to teach them what lay ahead. But they failed to understand.  In a world without power-point presentations and other such gimmicks, Jesus employed a child as his instructional aide.

Children induce all sorts of reactions in people. A baby is a sure attention-grabber in any gathering. Generally in our society, children are considered cute, innocent individuals, to whom we are expected to react positively and benevolently. 

But what is distinctive about childhood – and certainly what Jesus’ audience would have responded to – is not cuteness or innocence but rather the dependence and hence powerlessness, that go with being a child. Even rich children, as long as they remain children, are dependent on someone else to exercise power on their behalf. 

So, when Jesus wanted to teach his disciples what following him is all about, he pointed to a powerless child. In this way, he sought to teach his clueless disciples the paradox of the powerless Christ, who, in obedience to his Father, assumed our ordinariness as his own to meet us, in his economic and political poverty, where we are all at our most powerless – in the darkness of death, where all our obsessive human preoccupation with power and status, our aspiration to greatness and accomplishment, all come to nothing.

No wonder they found him hard to understand! It seems being a disciple means more than merely listening to Jesus’ words and possibly preaching them to others. No, it means being led, by him and with him, where he was led. It means leaving behind our perpetual preoccupation with power, wealth, and status, our aspiration to greatness and accomplishment, our competitiveness with one another and within our own selves - the passions that the Epistle of James [James 3:16-4:3] so strongly warns us about, causing us to covet but not possess, to envy but not obtain, to ask but not receive. From high school popularity contests to their imitations in our national political campaigns, it’s all about who’s up and who’s down, who’s in and who’s out.

   

In contrast, Jesus challenges us to come to know Christ with the powerless. He invites us to compensate for our own limited moral experience by paying attention – difficult as that may be - to the experiences of others, others whose lived reality of poverty or other forms of powerlessness (homeless people, for example, maligned and defamed immigrants, for another) can cut through our comfortable self-understanding and teach us something new, expose us to realities and insights we would not otherwise be exposed to.

Good teacher that he was, Jesus did not totally denigrate the ambition of his disciples. Instead, he gave them a new definition of greatness to aspire to. “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” 

That can be quite frightening, even threatening. Certainly, it scared the disciples. And it scares most of us most of the time, which is why we tend to pass over it as quickly as possible in search of some more “upbeat,” ostensibly friendly message, as if the point of Jesus’ life were to affirm us and our way of life. 

But this ultimately this is the challenge of a becoming a disciple – for all Christians from first to last.

 

Homily for the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 22, 2024, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, New York.

Cats and Dogs

It is a challenge to keep up with all the lies Donald Trump and his sidekick J.D. Vance have been promoting. Some of them especially stand out - both for their absurdity and for their potential for danger to real innocent people. One such is the bizarre claim that Haitian immigrants in Springfield, OH, are eating people's pets. On its face, of course, the claim is absurd, almost comic - except for the fact that it is so dangerous. It is, in a sense, a contemporary American version of the classic anti-semitic "Blood Libel." 

The so-called "Blood Libel" was an antisemitic canard, which falsely accused Jews of murdering Christians (typically Christian children) in order to use their blood in the supposed performance of certain religious rituals. In modern America, where pets are often treated as children, the lie that Haitian immigrants, who are here in the U.S. completely legally and have settled in Springfield because there were jobs there, have been stealing and eating people's pets, performs an analogously perverse and dangerous function of dehumanizing and "othering" a group of people, whose only actual distinction is being originally from a different country.

The immediately primary problem associated with such lies is the danger its victims may find themselves in, as a result of inflamed public opinion at the most fanatic extremes. Obviously the safety of innocent Haitian immigrants in Springfield needs to be prioritized. Above and beyond all that, however, there is the broader and longer term problem of the complete coarsening of our culture. We have become a nation of enemies to one another, motivated more by hatred and grievance than anything else. Whatever else happens, however this election ends, we will long be struggling as a nation with the damage we have done to ourselves as a viable human community.