Andrew makes an embarrassed confession…

To be honest it was just a bit of banter that went too far – a macho game of one-upmanship that got out of hand.  Soon we were arguing heatedly about who was the greatest, each one of us making wild claims for ourselves while pulling the others down. Looking back now, it was nothing to be proud of – but I’ll tell you just the same.

In our defence, I will say that it was all bravado.  A growing sense of unease had crept in, ever since it dawned on us just where this journey was heading.  The road had taken an unexpected turn and Jesus set us on a course that troubled us all.   We didn’t want to let on that we were anxious, so we acted up to prove we were okay with it.  And while we may have begun with the best of motives, hoping to spur each other on, soon our lurking fears got the best of us. Tetchiness led to insult and offence led on to full blown argument. Childish, I know, but we were all determined to prove that we were the best.

Perhaps it all got out of proportion when Peter and John, with the smug air of those who were in on a secret the rest of us weren’t, looked at each other with a roll of their eyes and then reminded the rest of us how useless we had been when it came to driving the demon out of that poor boy.  That really stung!  The pain of failure was still very raw.  At least we had been there to give it a go, while they were off gallivanting up the mountain with Jesus!  What makes them think they are so special? If they won’t tell us what happened up there, then what right have they got to be all high and mighty about it?  And the way John jibed at Peter, so that Peter fell quickly silent and took all defensive like, made me think that things didn’t go all that well for him up there either.

So, we argued – just like little school children – trying to cover our own inadequacies by boasting all the louder.  Pathetic, I know.  At least, I know that now, after Jesus well and truly put us all in our place.

When we got back to Capernaum and found a safe place indoors, Jesus turned to us directly and asked what we had been arguing about on the road.  He knew, of course, for he had clearly overheard; but he wanted us to admit it. Not that any of us would. Churlish and embarrassed, none of us said a word.

So, he came right out with it, confronting us squarely whilst saying that whoever wants to be first must put himself last and stoop to be a servant to everyone else.

You really could not put it plainer! But, as if to reinforce the importance of what he was saying, Jesus took a small child and made him stand in front of us.  He moved to stand behind the embarrassed boy, resting gentle hands on his shoulders to set him at ease (and to reassure him that he was not the one in trouble; we were)

‘Whoever welcomes one of these small children in my name,’ Jesus said, sweeping his gaze to look each one of us firmly in the eye, ’welcomes me.  And whoever welcomes me, welcomes the one who sent me.’

Now, that was harsh.   There he was, you see, putting us firmly in our place. ‘You want to argue who is the greatest, do you?  Well look…’ he said, placing his hand on the small boy’s head – ‘…this is me!’

That really cut deep – all our pomp and glory-seeking exposed for exactly what it was.  And if the child felt discomfort at being made the centre of attention, we felt far worse for ever having sought it for ourselves.

Of course, the child was not insignificant to Jesus, far from it. We may not have counted children for much, but Jesus certainly valued them. He invested that child – every child – with such dignity as he said, ‘Welcome a child and you welcome me.’

But that wasn’t the main point that Jesus was making.  By standing the child in our midst, Jesus was challenging our deeply held views about what made for greatness.  It is not in one-upmanship. It is not in social standing. It is not in being the biggest, strongest, richest or brightest – the child was none of these things.  Jesus turned all that around.  True greatness, he was saying, is rooted in vulnerability. It is discovered in dependence and honed in humility. You cannot be great unless you acknowledge your smallness. And true greatness is measured, not by how many servants you have, but in how willing you are to serve.

To be honest, I am still trying to get my head round that!  It is so counterintuitive and the very opposite of how things work in the real world … or, at least, the world as we have known it until Jesus began opening our eyes to his new way of seeing things.

Mind you, so much of what Jesus is saying these days is difficult and hard to take get you head round.  On our journey, before the argument, Jesus had been telling us again about how ‘The Son of Man’ would be handed over and suffer and be killed.  No-one dared come back at him after the tongue-lashing he gave Peter the last time. But none of us liked it. None of us understood it.

What kind of crazy kingdom is he thinking about where the first must be last, where the Lord must be vulnerable and insignificant as a child, and where the Messiah must suffer and die?