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There’s a restaurant in the south end of Hartford, right near the Wethersfield border, in the neighborhood where I grew up. It’s called “The First and Last,” and I’m guessing many of you have dined there in recent years. The food is good, the price reasonable, and the ambiance upbeat. It’s a popular spot, so popular that 15 or 20 years ago, they built an annex to the original building for additional dining space. And then about five years ago, A bakery and breakfast and lunch spot was added across the street - Where they serve a great fig and proscuitto sandwich, And have the most wonderful bread - But wait, the food description is for another sermon! Friends, I remember – and some of you might too if you grew up in Hartford in the 50s and 60s - I remember the First and Last before its expansion to the side and across the street. I remember when it was a local place – the kind of place that didn’t matter if you lived in neighborhood – like my dad – or you were the city mayor or a visiting celebrity. Whoever you were, you came in, sat at the bar, or a booth in the back and ordered a plate of shells and meatballs. You had a beer and talked about life and local happenings, be it the performance of the local sports teams or telling a few stories about a neighbor or family member who died. Friends, ours is a “First and Last” text today. From the first line to the last, Jesus is talking about what it means to live and love in God’s kingdom. We initially find Jesus teaching his disciples. They’re on the road – Alone it seems – and Jesus is talking about the depth of his love will mean in the future: betrayal, death, and resurrection. This isn’t the first time he’s talked about these things, and it won’t be the last. If you were here last week, you heard similar words as well as Jesus’ rebuke of his friend and companion Peter. In subsequent chapters of the gospel, Jesus speaks the same themes to his disciples, laying out what is to be his struggle and his triumph. Friends, Jesus’ talk is the kind of table conversation that makes folks uncomfortable, The kind of talk that makes you call over the waiter and ask for extra bread, Or get up from the booth and go and order another plate of meatballs. It seems to make the disciples so uncomfortable that they are moved to silence this second time Jesus talks with them about betrayal, about execution, and eventually new life. Maybe they’re looking around… Who would be the one to betray Jesus? They don’t quite understand and Mark tells us that they are afraid. Maybe, just maybe, the disciples know that suffering changes people – inside and outside – and they are afraid of that change. They’re thinking that things are going pretty good; Jesus’ popularity is growing, The crowds are getting bigger, And some of the disciples have just seen Jesus shining brightly right next to the two of the greatest: Moses and Elijah. Why now, Why all this unpleasant talk right now? It seems the disciples’ minds and hearts are on other things. The disciples haven’t been engaging in conversation with Jesus, But they have been talking amongst themselves - well arguing actually, arguing about who is the greatest. They are jousting for position, arguing, I imagine, about who is the most faithful, the most understanding or the closest to Jesus. They argue about who has the most biblical knowledge, who’s been bringing in the most followers or the most financial support. This desire to be great, this longing to be the best, is part of our human condition. We’re surrounded by images of greatness: To be great is to be the biggest, the strongest, the fastest, the best. To be great is to have the most: money, possessions, the latest technological “toy.” Friends, we’re not exempt from this desire in the church. Surely we want to be great disciples, aren’t we? Surely we want to continue to acquire biblical knowledge, And learn how to pray more eloquently, Or worship more faithfully. Surely we want the church to grow and get more and more people to contribute their time, talent and treasure. Wouldn’t it be great to be the “First Church” of Rocky Hill? First in the number of folks coming to worship, first in the number of people taking weekly bible study, first in the number of people teaching and attending church school, first in the amount of dollars pledged to stewardship, first in the total amount of money spent on local and global missions. Friends, Those “firsts” are good and important goals. But today Jesus asks us if asks us if we’re willing to be First Church, not in the way of the world, but in the way of God’s kingdom. Jesus says if you want to be first, You need to be last. As he does so often, Jesus turns the perspective and priorities of his disciples – then and now - upside down. To be first in the reign of God is to be last in the eyes of the world, to be willing to be a servant of others. In the kingdom, being the greatest doesn’t mean getting the best seat in one of the best restaurants in town. It’s more like being the man who fills your water glass, the woman who brings the bread to your table, the young teenager who picks up the dishes after the meal is done. Being the greatest is a willingness to be humble, to look for the simple things – a word or a deed - that will make someone’s life easier, to listen to the needs of another and respond. Think for a moment. Open your mind, your heart, your imagination. Who – in this community and in Rocky Hill or Hartford or beyond – Is hungry and thirsty or lonely? Who needs a plate of food and a drink of water? Who needs to be fed by the spirit of love and companionship? Who needs your service – today, tomorrow, and the week ahead? Who needs our servanthood as a community of faith? Just in case the disciples needed a reminder of what greatness means, Jesus, the good teacher, Brings in a “visual aid” - A young child. Welcome one like this, Jesus says, And you welcome me. We followed Jesus’ invitation when we welcomed our children this morning into our congregation with our voices, sharing our desire for them to be part of the community. Friends, there is more to Jesus’ instruction. In the ancient world, in the time of Jesus, Children held a different status in the world than they do now. They held no value, no power, no prestige. They didn’t count in family circles, in social circles, in religious circles. And as such, they were like others in that time: widows, beggars, those who are differently abled, lepers, slaves, immigrants, prisoners, and those who were homeless. These are the ones we’re called to welcome – and not just with our words. The Greek word for welcome in this passage means more than shaking hands, saying “hello,” or putting up a welcome sign. Jesus invites us to welcome the children, the most vulnerable in our midst with open arms, with an embrace like the one our grandmother or grandfather might have given us when we were younger. When we scoop the lost, least, and left behind into the arms of this community, We will welcome Jesus, We will open our arms to God. We have an opportunity to hear the word of God, look into the eyes of Christ, and feel the power of the Spirit. This, friends, this is our promise, our hope, our privilege, our call. This is – first and last – the good news for us today. Amen and amen. |