I think this is kind of a silly one, but it was fun to preach. Posted partially for Mamala who was tending to little she-who-is during the sermon today.

The scripture tells the story of the disciples choosing a person to replace Judas among the 12...

Acts 1:15-17, 21-26
In those days Peter stood up among the believers (together the crowd numbered about one hundred twenty persons) and said, "Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled, which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas, who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus--for he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry.

So one of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us--one of these must become a witness with us to his resurrection."

So they proposed two, Joseph called Barsabbas, who was also known as Justus, and Matthias. Then they prayed and said, "Lord, you know everyone's heart. Show us which one of these two you have chosen to take the place in this ministry and apostleship from which Judas turned aside to go to his own place." And they cast lots for them, and the lot fell on Matthias; and he was added to the eleven apostles.


I need to say something right off the bat: this is not a sermon about Judas… despite the fact that Judas has been quite the man-about-town lately—what with his very own gospel, a National Geographic special, and countless magazine articles. I haven’t yet read the gospel of Judas in its entirety, but my understanding is that Judas is treated much more sympathetically there than in any of the gospels that made it into the Bible, the idea being that Judas’s betrayal of Jesus was no surprise to Jesus, but something that they had planned all along. In that sense Judas is not a criminal but a bit of a hero.

The adult spiritual growth team is planning to offer a Sunday School class sometime next year that will take up the gospel of Judas, and gnosticism in general, and will look at how and why certain gospels made the cut and others did not. All I want to say about Judas right now is, I think Luke here in the book of Acts presents a balanced view of Judas: Peter says that Judas “turned aside” from his ministry as Jesus’ follower and went his own way. His actions are a betrayal of Jesus, not something that the two of them cooked up together. At the same time, however, Peter acknowledges that God worked through Judas (even through Judas!) to accomplish God’s purposes.

The main reason I’m not particularly interested in Judas today, however, is because I think most of us have more in common with the two candidates to replace him: Joseph, called Barsabbas, and Matthias.

With Judas out of the picture, there is a slot open among the twelve. And after some prayer and the casting of lots, which was an ancient way of discerning the will of God, Matthias is chosen. Thus Matthias goes down in biblical history as one of the inner circle, one of the twelve disciples. By contrast, Barsabbas is so utterly forgotten that when I mentioned the title of the sermon to someone this week he said, “Don’t you mean Barabbas?” (the criminal that Pilate released in place of Jesus). Poor Barsabbas. He is the runner-up to the most elite circle of apostles of the church, and yet he’s less well known than a common criminal—a murderer, even.

Matthias is chosen… and Barsabbas is not.

I wonder what tipped the scales in Matthias’s direction.

Was Matthias simply the better candidate?

Was he a better campaigner?

Did he come off more positively in the debates? …didn’t sweat under pressure, he was personable, he had the cleverest soundbites?

Did he connect with the people at the town-hall meetings and the “meet the candidate” fundraisers in Mary and Martha’s home?

Or perhaps he received more campaign contributions from the sandal lobby?

Or maybe he received that all-important endorsement from the NRA?
(…The National Robe-wearer’s Association!)

OK OK, maybe the issue was with Barsabbas. Notice here that Barsabbas has two other names in this passage, Joseph and Justus. Political consultants will tell you that name recognition is so important—probably those three names just confused people.

Maybe Barsabbas was too closely linked to Judas, and you know that’s the kiss of death when people are ready for a change in leadership.

Or maybe Barsabbas was just too much of a loose cannon. Maybe he didn’t follow the party line. Or maybe he was prone to long and rambling speeches punctuated by loud yells:
“We’re going to Ephesus!
And then we’re going to Galatia!
And then we’re going to Thessalonica!
And then we’re going to Philippi!
YEAH!!!”

(Don’t get that last one? Ask a friend.)

Whatever the reason, Matthias is in and Barsabbas is out. And Barsabbas probably accepted the news graciously and gave an eloquent concession speech, but if I’m honest with myself, if I were in Barsabbas’s position I’d probably be tempted to push for a recount.

We live in a competitive culture, do we not? And I’m guessing that many of us here in this meeting house relish competition and push ourselves hard to win. I know that I do. Not so much in sports, but in academics… and, uh, board games. Just ask Robert about what we’ve come to call The Canasta Incident.

Perhaps there are others of you who don’t have the competitive urge. And yet I think it’s human nature to have a sense that we matter—that our gifts are important and noticed and valued. I think most if not all of us, want to feel acknowledged. So I can’t help but wonder whether Barsabbas felt at least a little stung by being passed over. I don’t think we would blame him a bit; it’s a very human response, even if the thought of “competing” with Matthias never once crossed his mind.

I’ve thought a lot over the years about competition as it relates to faith, especially competition that is vigorous and whole-hearted. It doesn’t seem to jive theologically, because at its heart, competition is about scarcity, about striving for one spot. No matter how strong the league is overall, only one team wins the Super Bowl. No matter how brilliant the class is, only one student becomes valedictorian. (Usually.) And only one person is elected President, no matter how wise and well qualified all of the candidates are (or not).

And no matter what Barsabbas’s good points, only one person fills Judas’s spot among the twelve. Scarcity lies beneath our economic system—businesses compete for a finite set of customers, individuals compete for a finite set of jobs… but theologically it’s hard to reconcile this kind of competition with the promise of abundant life in Jesus Christ.

Competition is a tricky concept biblically as well. Paul’s description of the church as the body of Christ suggests a partnership—like parts of a human body, we work together for the good of the whole.
“Can the eye say to the hand, ‘I’m #1!!’? ”

Or how about the fruit of the spirit?
“Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control,”
Not
“Pain, gain, ruthlessness, relentlessness, scarcity, opposition, obsessiveness, rivalry.”

This is part of the reason that many of our children’s ministries here emphasize cooperative play rather than competitive games… the thought being that so much of a child’s world is organized in terms of a pecking order—the church should be one place where all are equally welcome and valued. And this is as it should be.

So where does that leave those of us to thrive on hearty, no-holds-barred competition? Is competition something to be exorcised if we are to follow the One who went willingly to the cross, who had all the power in the world, the power to save himself but did not?

For a long time I thought so. I have to admit that I struggled with this issue for many years. I remember discussing this issue with a spiritual mentor while I was in seminary. Many graduate programs—law, medicine—are famous for their competitiveness, and the ministerial track is no different. There is a lot of one-upmanship (and one-upwomanship?!) that goes on. Everyone in my class knew who’d gotten the top scholarships to get there, and at graduation we handed out the awards. It turned my stomach a bit, because we are supposed to be the church, but the other side was, I thrived on the competition. It encouraged me to work even harder, to pursue goals with determination and vigor, yes, but occasionally it became an obsession. I had to be the best.

I was describing this tendency, this shadow side, to my mentor and just wishing that I could stop being that way when my mentor said, “Stop trying not to be competitive. That is part of who you are. Just figure out how to take that competitive nature and use it to God’s glory.”

Her words changed my perspective on this issue. Is it possible for competitiveness to be a gift to God? I believe it is, provided we do it in the right way and for the right reasons, and with the proper regard for others.

As I see it, there still aren’t many biblical models for Christian competition, but there is one, in Roman 12: “outdo one another in showing honor.” This passage is often read at weddings, and it serves as a reminder to spur one another on to do better and better. “Outdo one another in showing honor,” not for one’s own glory or to lord it over someone else, but to the glory of God and in thanksgiving for God’s gift of grace in Jesus Christ. I think this is a word for those of us who love competition—if you must “compete,” do it with the right intention—and for those who are not wired that way: even if you don’t consider yourself competitive, God is worth your very best effort. “Outdo one another in showing honor.”

Many of you who follow boxing may have heard about the recent death of Floyd Patterson, the youngest heavyweight champion in history. It was said of him that he held the record for being knocked down more than any other fighter in history. When asked about it during his life, he said, “Yes, but I got up more too.”

In a story on Patterson, NPR’s Tom Goldman interviewed Bert Sugar, who’s written a book about the top 100 fighters in history. Patterson did not make the list. However, Sugar said: “But if I made a list of those who had ennobled the world of sports, he’d probably be at the top of it.”

He talked about a trilogy of fights in 1959 and 1960 between Patterson and Swedish fighter Ingemar Johansson. Johansson won the first, and Patterson the second on a knockout. What was significant, says Sugar, is that “When Patterson knocked out Ingemar Johansson to become first heavyweight champion ever to regain the crown, he actually picked up the stricken and still unconscious Johansson to take him to his corner.”

Later in the story Goldman said, “Boxing pundits will forever wonder whether Patterson's humanity kept him from becoming what Burt Sugar called ‘great with a capital G.’”

And yet those of us who see competition through the eyes of faith would declare that his humanity is exactly what made him great with a capital G. We run the race that is ours to run, to paraphrase Paul, and we outdo one another in showing honor.

We don’t know what became of old Barsabbas, the first alternate to Jesus’ Team of Twelve, but I have to believe that he persisted in his ministry. He wasn’t in it for the glory anyway. He persisted in his ministry, and God blessed it.

And that is good news. Because the truth is, we are all Barsabbas. Whether we’re wired for competition or not, none of us has it all together. There is always someone smarter, quicker, more successful… or more spiritual, more fluent in the Bible, a better listener, more dedicated. And yet, we persist in “running the race,” and we strive for excellence in all that we do for God.

Today we commission two new Stephen Ministers. It’s possible that these two individual feel like Matthias today, like “the chosen ones.” It’s possible that elders and deacons feel that as well, but I doubt it! Ask them and I’m sure they’ll tell you that they do not feel like the A #1 candidates for the job. And yet, God has called them to it. And God will work through them to God’s glory.

Or stop by the ChristCare table after church and ask whether the leaders that were trained last year felt like Matthias or Barsabbas. Yes indeed! And yet we have 8 or so small groups that did not exist a year ago. God is working through them, because they have stepped out in faith to do something wonderful for God.

May it be so for us.

Floyd Patterson story on NPR