Ugly Ducklings...All of Us

“Ugly Ducklings…all of us…”
John 15:9-17
Todd Buegler
May 20 & 21, 2006
Lord of Life


Grace and peace to you from God our Creator, and from Jesus, the Son of God, who calls us friend! Amen.

At the classy Peabody Hotels in Memphis and Orlando, hundreds come to lunch every day for one specific reason. It's not that the chef is glamorous or that the deserts are gigantic or that the menu is amazing. That all may be true. But that's not why they come.

No, the diners come to watch ducks. The Peabody Hotel is famous for its schooled entourage of ducks who arrive every day at 11am via elevator from the “Duck Palace,” their home on the roof to the marble fountain in the Grand Lobby. To the sound of a John Phillip Sousa march, these ducks stride down the red carpet single file, keeping rhythm with the music. The ducks spend the afternoon swimming in the hotel fountain. Then at 5pm they walk out again in single file to enter their waiting elevator and return to their rooftop home.

Ducks just swimming in a hotel fountain wouldn’t be that big a deal. But ducks marching single-file through a hotel lobby in a perfectly synchronized strut have been unusual and amusing enough to establish and maintain a million dollar reputation for the Peabody Hotels.
Ducks, for whatever reason, have been symbols of order and repetitive sameness throughout history. It's there in our language. We allude to getting our ducks in a row, and to sitting ducks. Ducks are what roll by in front of us in neat lines at shooting arcades. In their procession through the Peabody Hotel, the ducks' movements are perfectly predictable. Each duck precisely mimics the duck parading in front of it. They march strictly in step, reach their destination, then retreat in the same orderly fashion.

I’m telling you about the Peabody ducks not because it’s an amazing thing to see, which it surely is. I’m telling you about the Peabody ducks because I believe that they are a metaphor. We often live our faith lives in a duck kind of way. But this is not the life of faith to which Christ calls us.

During Jesus time, the educational system was rigid. Students would study hoping someday to become a Rabbi, a position of highest respect in Jewish culture. Throughout their whole lives young people would study the Torah, and the rest of the Hebrew scriptures, memorizing the laws of God. At different points, students who were good enough would be allowed to continue, and those who didn’t make the cut would return to learn their family trade.
Finally, in the late teens, those who were still in school would apply to be a disciple of a Rabbi. To just a few, the best of the best of the best, the Rabbi says “pick up my yoke and follow me,” which literally means “Pick up my teachings, and follow me.” Those were the words the students had yearned to hear since childhood. They had made the cut.

And the disciples of a Rabbi would literally follow him around. Everything he did, everywhere he went. Their goal wasn’t just to learn what the Rabbi knew, it was to do what the Rabbi did. They literally wanted to become just like the Rabbi. When I visualize what it must have looked like, with the Rabbi in front and the disciples following immediately behind him, I think of the row of ducks, following one right after the other, each one mimicking the duck ahead of him. Each trying to be like the master who leads.

There is a part of this image that is appealing to me. I’d love to be able to say that I was following in the steps of Jesus. I would love to have the path exactly defined for me…I’d love to have full confidence that my decisions mirror those that Jesus would make. There are parts of me that long to be a duck, following in step behind my Rabbi.

Unfortunately, were I a duck, I think I would be something of an ugly duck. (wait a minute…did I see you nod?) I would be a duck who has difficulty following…I would be a duck who doesn’t feel like I have my personal devotional and prayer life all together. I would be a duck with a short attention span. I would be a duck who can sometimes be a little stubborn…ok, really stubborn. If the goal of my Rabbi was that I follow and mimic, I fear that my Rabbi would be disappointed in me.

Enter Jesus: A different kind of Rabbi. This Rabbi didn’t take applicants. Jesus took a different approach. He went out and sought people already working in a trade; that means that they weren’t the best of the best, or probably even the best. He chose ordinary people and said “drop what you’re doing, and follow me.” And those people who became his disciples may have expected to follow him around in lockstep like other Rabbis and disciples, but Jesus had other ideas.

In verses 14-16 of our Gospel today, Jesus states: “You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit – fruit that will last.”

Jesus says some startling things in this text
· He is saying: “it’s not about master and servant anymore. I call you friend.”
· He is saying: “It’s not about you applying to me, hoping to measure up, it’s about me choosing you.”
· He is saying: “It’s not about you following me around, trying to mimic my every move. I’m not interested in clones; I’m interested in your faith.”

I have to stop here and make a note that Jesus’ words here do cause us something of a theological problem. Because clearly, Jesus is a master; Jesus is a Rabbi. Clearly, Jesus does want us to “follow him.” In fact, Jesus using the phrase “follow me” is recorded 30 different times in the Gospels. But here, he says “no, I no longer call you servants, I call you friends.” So which is it? Is Jesus master? Is Jesus friend?

The answer is: yes. It is a paradox; where two opposite answers can both be right. Yes, Jesus is master and role model. We should follow him. Yes, Jesus is friend to us. If you’ve ever been in a situation at work where you were in a supervisory role over people who are also your friends, it can cause tension. It is not always easy. Jesus’ words here put us into that tension.
I have to admit that I always struggled just a bit with Jesus saying that he calls me a “friend.” I never completely understood what he meant by that. It’s not as if I’d call Jesus up and we’d head to a movie together, or that he’d come over and we’d order pizza and watch a Twilight Zone marathon.

Jesus isn’t calling us into that kind of a friendship. Rather, Jesus is saying that he came to be a relational God. Jesus is not distant. Jesus is God, but he is a God who is alongside us.
Jesus’ friendship is unconditional. Even thought we don’t deserve it, even though we aren’t the best, much less the best of the best, Jesus seeks us out. Jesus rewrites the rules of what a Rabbi is, of what a Savior is.

We have to admit that as people of God, we expect the “duck” kind of faith where we follow in Jesus’ footsteps exactly. The problem with this is that we can never maintain that path. We are human, we wander. But even when we wander, Jesus continues to call us back to relationship.
Daniel Taylor, in his book Letters to my Children describes an experience he had in the sixth grade. Back in those days, as a part of the phy ed. experience, students were taught how to dance. You might have done this yourself. I did. It was miserable. Taylor writes that the boys would line up at the door of the classroom to choose their partners. Imagine what it was like to be one of the girls waiting to be chosen.

One girl, Mary, was always chosen last. Because of a childhood illness, one of her arms was drawn up and she had a bad leg. She wasn’t pretty, she wasn’t smart and she was overweight. The assistant teacher of Dan’s class happened to attend his church. One day she pulled Dan aside and said “Dan, next time we have dancing, I want you to choose Mary.” Dan couldn’t believe it. Why would anyone pick Mary when there was Linda, Shelley or even Dorreen? Dan’s teacher told him it is what Jesus would have done, and deep inside, he knew she was right, which didn’t make it any easier. All Dan could hope for was that he would be last in line. That way, he could choose Mary, do the right thing and no one would be the wiser. Instead, Dan was first in line.

Dan writes that “the faces of the girls were turned toward me, some smiling. I looked at Mary and saw that she was half-turned to the back of the room. (She knew no one would pick her first.)…Mr. Jenkins said, “Okay, Dan, choose your partner.” I remember feeling very far away. I heard my voice say, “I choose Mary.”

Never has reluctant virtue been so rewarded. Dan writes “I still see her face undimmed in my memory. She lifted her head, and on her face, reddened with pleasure and surprise and embarrassment all at once, was the most genuine look of delight and even pride that I have ever seen, before or since. It was so pure that I had to look away because I knew I didn’t deserve it.
Mary came and took my arm, as we had been instructed, and she walked beside me, bad leg and all, just like a princess…

I never saw her after that year. I don’t know what her life’s been like, or what she’s doing. But I’d like to think she has a fond memory of at least one day in sixth grade. I know I do.”
Lined up in the classroom like ducks in a row, Dan made a choice that set aside the natural social order. He chose the unexpected. He chose the way of Jesus who says “I call you friend.”
My friends, Jesus chose you. Even though you are not the best of the best of the best. He chose you. You don’t have to line up and mimic Jesus to ensure his love for you. You aren’t graded on a curve. Because of Jesus’ friendship you are chosen, just as you are. Because of Jesus’ friendship, you are forgiven.

You and I are not like the Peabody ducks. We will never be perfectly lined up with our master. We will always fall short of the glory of God.

We are all ugly ducks. But it is the grace of God through Jesus Christ that transforms us. Like the famous children’s story which ends with the ugly duckling finally recognizing its true identity, Christ reveals to us our identity as baptized and loved children of God. If you were able to look at yourself through God’s eyes, you would see loved friends.

We have been adopted into a free-flying family. Because of Jesus’ friendship, love and grace, we are set loose and freed to be in relationship with God…it’s a relationship we will never fully understand; It is a paradox; God is simply too big. But it is a relationship that Jesus calls us into nonetheless. Jesus calls us into this relationship out of love and grace.
We follow not just a master, we follow a friend.

Amen.