"DREAMS OF GREATNESS"

How many of you have been watching any of the Olympics coverage? I’ve been able to catch bits and pieces, here and there. The Olympics always brings out the critic in me. Early in high school, I was on the gymnastics team and, had there been such rankings, I have no doubt that I could have qualified as one of the top worst gymnasts world-wide. And yet I have no trouble criticizing form, difficulty and adequacy of landings for these world-class competitors. You’ve heard of armchair quarterbacks? I’m a La-Z-Boy gymnast...whose specialty is a three-quarter layout with a full mouth. So....

The deal with the Olympics, of course, is that it’s all about dreams of greatness. When you watch the Olympics on T.V., they devote as much, if not more, time to the stories of the various athletes as they do on the actual events.

This year swimming seems to be getting the most attention, partly because it’s such a popular sport in Australia. (I guess if you come from a land "Down Under," you’d better know how to swim!) There’s been a lot of hoopla about some of the swimmers competing this year. There’s Australia’s Ian Thorp – the "Thorpedo," they call him. A 17-year old with size 17 feet who’s been lifted up as a national hero. I feel sure his shoe size has probably peaked and, unfortunately for a 17 year old, so probably has his 15 minutes of fame.

Then there’s a Russian-born American team member, Lenny Krayzelburg, who started out at age five under the Russian system of training where dreams of Olympic greatness were hammered into him relentlessly from the very beginning. Later his family defected to the U.S. but Lenny never escaped his dream of greatness. And sure enough...he’s won the gold in both the 100 and 200 meter backstroke. Another story of greatness achieved.

Sometimes, though, the Olympics reveal a different kind of greatness. Like a few days ago when Eric Moussambani stepped up onto the starter’s block in the 100 meter freestyle. Eric is from Equatorial Guinea. Not one of the top vacation destinations in the world. Actually, Equatorial Guinea is one of a hand-full of developing nations who were wildcard entries in the Olympics – they did not have to qualify in order to send a competitor in an effort to encourage the sport of swimming in countries where it’s not traditionally practiced.

Of course, that was Eric’s problem as he stood on the block. He’s not a swimmer. In fact, he’s only been training since January...of this year. He’d never raced in a 50 meter pool. And here he stood, surrounded by swimmers with dreams of greatness.

The race got underway and in just over 48 seconds it was finished. Except not for Eric. He was still swimming. In fact, when every other swimmer was done and out of the pool, Eric was left there, chugging along for a record slow time of over one minute, 52 seconds. It was interesting though. The strongest cheers and most enthusiastic applause didn’t come for the winner of the 100 meter freestyle. They came for Eric. The crowd in the Olympic arena recognized the presence of true greatness in one who knew that he had not been sent to start the race...but to finish it. Not to be the best...but to do his best. Greatness redefined.

Greatness redefined is the essence of today’s scripture reading from the Gospel of Mark. Jesus instructs the disciples...and us...that greatness in God’s eyes is not about starting the race as a champion but about finishing it as a faithful disciple. It’s not about being the best...it’s about doing our best – in all things.

Jesus and the twelve disciples were, again, walking together on a journey that was going to lead Jesus to death on a cross. He tried, and not for the first time, mind you, to explain all this to them. But they were too afraid...and to preoccupied with other concerns...to truly listen and understand.

They arrived at the town of Capernaum and stopped there to rest and Jesus asked them all, "What were you arguing about on the road?" Jesus was no dummy! He could see them, keeping their distance, bunched in a little group, hands and arms gesturing intensely and voices hissing some passionate whispering between them.

They were too embarrassed to admit that they’d been arguing about rank and privilege among them. They were ashamed to be caught obsessing about who deserved what and how the honors were going to be handed out. So they just hung there heads and said nothing to Jesus.

Isn’t it funny how we all think that God doesn’t already know what our obsessions and concerns are about? When we harbor grudges over credit we deserved and didn’t get...when we worry about being noticed and praised and thanked and applauded...do we really think God doesn’t hear? Do we really believe that we can keep God in the dark about our intentions and desires and dreams of greatness? Like the disciples...sometimes we actually do. And sometimes, when confronted by God, we just hang our heads and say nothing.

Jesus knew exactly what their heated discussion was about. But he also knew that words alone were usually not enough to reach these hard-headed goofballs. So rather than chastise them or launch into a lengthy speech to instruct them, He made one simple but heart-stopping statement: "If any of you wants to be first, you must be the very last and the servant of all." Then Jesus did something radical. He reached down and picked up a little child who was probably playing on the floor nearby and said, in essence, "You want greatness through your association with me? Welcome this little child and you’ve welcomed me. Welcome me in this way and you have stepped onto the medal stand of God."

Now we need to understand something – or rather clear up a misunderstanding – about this teaching. Over the years, people have read that Scripture and turned it into a theology of being childlike or about proving we’re good people by making sure children are cared for. Both of those are good things but they’re not what this passage is saying. In our culture today, in a certain sense, children are revered. People stop to "oooo" and "aahhh" over babies and toddlers, we love commercials with puppies and little kids. Despite the rampant child abuse and neglect that does exist in our country, still there is a general concern for children’s welfare.

Not so in Jesus’ day. His culture had no romanticized notions about children. They were not regarded as especially simple, innocent or pure. There was no "Baby Gap" or "Toys R Us." The point of comparison is the insignificance of the child on the scale of honor. The child, in those times, had no power, no status, few rights, and would have been fed and cared for last, not first. Jesus is saying that if one wants to be great, one should shower attention on those who are regarded as insignificant, as Jesus himself has done. Jesus requires his "great" disciples to show humble service for the humble.

Who are the insignificant among us today? I don’t mean just in "the world." Or in this country...or even in St. Louis. Who are the insignificant among us in this church? "Why, no one is insignificant" we say. Really?

At present count we have one...count ‘em...one transgendered person who is regularly, actively involved. And many of us have applauded ourselves for her presence as if it’s due to our incredible level of acceptance...when frankly she just happens to have the strength of character, guts and tenacity to have hung in and carved a place of her own.

Look around this morning. I see about 8 or 10 people of color...a small hand-full of folks under 30...even 1 or 2 people who are deaf or blind. Well, aren’t we just the picture of true diversity!

And what about our wonderful dream of being not a "gay" church but a Christian church where all are welcomed? This past week I was just kind of glancing through the demographic surveys we’ve been taking and a written comment caught my eye. Now, normally, I will not respond to anonymous messages but this one -- we need to hear. I don’t know who wrote it and don’t need to. But I’ll tell you...I was both pained and grateful to read these words.

In response to the question about being actively involved, someone wrote, "I would give time in service if I felt welcomed. As a heterosexual, I find that people spend half their time trying to figure out if I should even be here. I don’t feel very welcomed." Now that stings. But a shot in the arm usually does. This is bitter medicine we need to receive, church. You see..."social justice" does not mean, "socially...just us."

Later this morning, we are going to have our annual "State of the Church" forum. We’ll be sharing about things we’ve accomplished, plans we have, work we’re doing to insure that we can be healthy and vibrant and growing. But in all that we do, Jesus is reminding us this morning that we are not here to earn medals...or applause...or public acclaim for what a wonderful church we are. Those things may come as a consequence of the work we do but those are not the things God is seeking from us.

In God’s Olympics, the events in which we have been entered are changing lives through the good news of God’s love, reaching out to, and embracing in our presence, all who want to share this journey with Christ and being faithful in our discipleship...not just in the good and high times but in the difficult, stressful and, yes, overwhelming, times. God’s medals go to the ones who stay in the pool and keep swimming...even when it’s upstream and lonely.

God truly loves us. Let us truly love God by living God’s dream of greatness. Amen.

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