Want Honor? Seek Shame!

David Orendorff · Mark 9:30-37 · September 24, 2006

A week ago, I finished reading a journal article by David Watson. 1 David Watson, The Journal of Theology, “The Messianic Secret,“ (United Theological School, 2006) Dr. Watson is a young scholar whose focus is on first century Mediterranean Culture and the New Testament. I think he has a great future.

Watson was looking at Jesus’ through the lenses of “Honor“ and “Shame“ “Honor“ is what we would call prestige and power. It turns out that the first century understanding of power and prestige is not so different than ours. You gained honor by gender, age, physical wellness and beauty, by who your family was, who you hung out with, what your job was, how much money you had, funding public works and the arts, and having a reputation for being a good person.

You lost honor, were shamed, by your gender (women below men, children below adults), by your health (the ill below the healthy, the ugly below the beautiful), who your family was, by being a laborer or beggar, by hanging out with losers, and by being poor. Shame is to be crucified with thieves as a thief.

I tell you of this article and the codes of honor and shame because Jesus is redefining honor and shame throughout the Gospel of Mark. The disciples are seeking honor in the old ways, public recognition by having seats of power next to the king. Jesus turns honor and shame upside down giving the children the seats next to him and asking the disciples to be their servants.

Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all." Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, "Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.

Jesus does the same thing many times in many different ways, sitting down to eat with tax collectors and sinners, healing the children of foreign women and Roman soldiers, being crucified.

For Jesus, the revealer of God to us, honor, power and prestige are not in being the master but in being the servant. Shame is in lording power over others and neglecting the needs of the hungry, naked, imprisoned, ill, lonely and outcast. Shame is saving your own life when you can give it in compassion and justice.

It was an email. The subject line read, "Worth Reading!" It is sort of like saying “trust me.“ I was immediately suspicious. It read:

During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Mr. Miller's Roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. Food and money were still extremely scarce and bartering was used, extensively.

One particular day Mr. Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas.

I paid for my potatoes but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller and the ragged boy next to me.

"Hello Barry, how are you today?"

"H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas... sure look good."

"They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?"

"Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time."

"Good. Anything I can help you with?"

"No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas."

"Would you like to take some home?"

"No, Sir. Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with."

"Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?"

"All I got's my prize marble here."

"Is that right? Let me see it."

"Here 'tis. She's a dandy."

"I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?"

"Not 'zackley .....but, almost."

"Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble."

"Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller."

Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, perhaps."

I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man.

A short time later I moved to Colorado but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys and their bartering. Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one.

Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them.

Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts ..very professional looking.

They approached Mrs. Miller, standing smiling and composed, by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary, awkwardly, wiping his eyes.

Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. "Those three young men, who just left, were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim "traded" them. Now, at last when Jim could not change his mind about color or size... they came to pay their debt. "We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world," she confided, "but, right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho."

With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three, exquisitely shined, red marbles.2 I think it actually came from one of the “Chicken Soup for the Soul“ books.

Now the truth is I don't know if Mr. and Mrs. Miller are real people. But the greater truth is that I have known Mr. and Mrs. Miller's all my life. They are the folks who practice Christian love one person at a time and in self sacrifices. They are the folks who see it as more important to care for hungry children than to feed their own pocket or ego. For the Millers of the world, promised marbles for edible peas is the way to heaven.

I have also known folks like the disciples who in their frightened moments want some assurance that they are important; folks who grab power thinking that they are great because they hold the lives of other's in their fist; folks such as King Herod in Jesus day and the tyrants of our day. Once, I even had a boss that had to have power over all the employees. I have even been such a shameful person.

What Jesus reveals is that real power and real meaning come not in a crushing authority to direct another's life, but in the compassion to serve those who cannot pay you, who may not know your name and may not even thank you. In today's scripture he says it this way:

I, this human child, am about to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill me, and three days after being killed, I will rise again." But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.

Being truly great is about making sacrifices with one's life for the needs of another. Such servant discipleship is the way to heavenly greatness, is filled with meaning and joy and will last into the ages. Servant greatness is the nature of God and the fundamental nature of all life. God and life serve life.

Shalom and Amen.