Preached on Sunday, October 29 at Christ & Saint Stephen's Church. The lectionary readings this sermon is based on can be found here.
My friend Melissa had a bad day yesterday. And not because of the big Snowtober Storm. She had a bad day on Saturday, because she began her Saturday with Facebook.
Melissa’s a busy freelancer, and spends most of the week dashing around town with little time to spend on Facebook and other Internet diversions. But on Saturday mornings, she likes to sit down with a cup of coffee in front of the computer and reach out to friends and family and catch up with fellow freelancers and people in her field.
It was that last bit that caused her bad day yesterday. Yesterday on Facebook, she saw some old colleagues celebrating a recent success on Facebook. Tooting their own horns and trumpeting their recent success; and predicting that the project they were all working on might actually win some awards along with the critical acclaim.
My friend Melissa was a bit chagrined that no one felt the need to mention her past contributions to her colleagues’ success on the project that she’d once worked with them on; a project that she had, in fact, initiated. There was to be no critical acclaim and no awards coming her way. Reading through the posts, Melissa was more than a bit chagrined to think that the project was in fact more successful without her help and input.
Melissa had a bad day yesterday because, along with her morning coffee and weekly Facebook check-in, she got served a big, piping hot dish of “It’s not about you.”
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Jesus has a similar dish to serve to us today in our gospel reading from Matthew. After bemoaning the undeserved accolades and approbation granted to the religious leaders of his day, and after noting their quite obvious hypocrisy, Jesus tells his followers to follow a different path; to take a different tact.
We are not to call ourselves by exalted titles like rabbi or instructor, or (ahem) even father. Today’s gospel was not the easiest to proclaim to you this morning from the center aisle if you happen to be referred to quite regularly as “Father Mark”.
Some Christian denominations assiduously avoid referring to their clergy as ‘Father’ or ‘Mother’ because of this specific passage. But that’s taking the gospel today too literally. And in this case, taking the gospel literally is taking the easy way out. Jesus’s point is not about vocabulary. You’re not off the hook if your clergy are referred to as ‘Pastor’ or ‘Minister’.
Jesus is a big picture guy, and usually what he’s saying is not about small specificities but about tremendous truths. And the tremendous truth for us is that we are to humble ourselves and to give glory to God. We are to seek to serve others, that’s where our greatness is found.
And that’s true for us all, no matter what our work is, no matter what jobs we perform. All work is service; all undertakings should be for the benefit of others. If we are butchers, bakers or candlestick makers our work is – or should be – a work of service to those who need our meat, our bread or our candlesticks. And that’s because our jobs don’t define us, they are not our identity, not primarily. Our essential identity is as children of God. Our baptism into Christ’s death and resurrection means that we are new creations in Christ Jesus and that is who we are always, no matter our skill set, our talents, our artistry, or our assigned tasks.
And that means that what we are supposed to be about, our work in this world, our vocations as Christians, should be about serving God’s people, sewing God’s justice, extending God’s welcome. It’s about bringing God’s peace to those battered by war and unrest. It’s about making sure that God’s bounty is shared fairly, and that no single one of us, and nor any corporate entity of many of us, is granted more than their fair share, nor are they allowed to contribute less than their fair share.
The Prophet Micah, in our first reading today, chastises the people of God in his day who abhor justice and pervert the equity God intends. He warns the people not to build the nation with blood, and not to build up the glorious city by means of wrongdoing. And Paul, in our Epistle reading, goes to pains to point out to the Thessalonians that he and his companions sought not to be a burden to them, but a boon. And that they most wanted the people to lead lives worthy of the God who invites them and us in to his kingdom and his glory.
And that’s what it’s all about, really. It’s about God’s glory and not our own. Our glory comes from God, and through our service to others.
My friend Melissa was able to salvage her Saturday by reflecting a bit, and realizing that one of the contributions she made to her colleagues’ success was to get out of the way, and to let others better suited to the task to carry it forward. That’s a humbling realization, but also a comforting one. Because we aren’t meant to claim all the glory, but neither are we meant to shoulder all the responsibility. We are to share our tasks and our troubles with our brothers and sisters, we are to get out of the way when others bring to bear their talents and skills, and we can ask God’s help, God’s guidance, and God’s blessing upon our endeavors.
As we were winding up our discussion of Melissa’s very bad Saturday, our other friend Kathy said, “I do better my job when I remember that no matter the task, no matter the context, no matter who my boss is, I’m ultimately working for God.”
When we remember that, we’ll find less of our own egos spoiling our Saturday mornings. And when we follow Jesus’s admonitions, I think we’ll find that our annual performance reviews will get a little better. When we remember that our vocation is to serve God and God’s people first, foremost and only, then we’re likely to get a very good performance review from God, and that performance review will say, “Well done, well done, good and faithful servant.” + Amen.
© The Rev. Mark R. Collins
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