It began with a funeral, and then the reception - the one at which I was seated with the busboys. By now I've officiated at over 850 funerals and each has its own pain, and sorrow and poignancy. Most were funerals for strangers and it's hard to remember a specific about many of them - but the time they sat me with the busboys was memorable. The man who had died, I'll call him Robert, owned a very fashionable restaurant in Westchester. He wasn't much of a churchgoer and anyway, his pastor was on vacation. Before the funeral, I was invited to the brunch at the family restaurant following the service. I'd rather not name the restaurant, especially since it's the locale of our annual Grace Christmas Party.

As I left the funeral home following the service, a young family member followed me to my car. "That was the most anti-Semitic sermon I've ever heard. The whole family is up in arms." I couldn't imagine what I might have said to offend anyone, but it must have been serious enough that I was no longer looking forward to brunch. When I arrived in Millwood, at the unidentified restaurant, it was crowded with mourners. I wasn't sure where to sit but the maître d' appeared and ushered me to a table in a side room where I was seated with the busboys and dishwashers. Normally at receptions (wedding or funeral) a pastor is asked to sit with family members in a place of honor. Not that day. I felt ostracized, like I was being punished. I was seated with "the help," and you know what I mean by that. And believe me: the busboys and dishwashers were puzzled as to why they were stuck sitting with me.

The punchline to the strange story is that a couple years later, I got a call from Robert's daughter asking me to officiate at her wedding. Sometime later I was asked to officiate at the wedding of Robert's son. And finally, I was asked to officiate funeral of Robert's wife. And nobody ever told me what I said that had made them so angry. And, I never asked. Ignorance is bliss - which partially explains why I smile so much.

Now all humor aside, when I'm at the top of my game I realize what I am as a pastor. I am "the help." The stole a pastor wears is a symbol of rank - rightfully worn, it ranks the pastor at the bottom of the totem pole. The stole symbolizes the yoke placed across the neck of an ox - it is the yoke of service. The pastor is "the help."

In our Gospel text, we encounter the disciples, James and John, and it's not an overstatement to suggest this is far from their shining moment. These former fishermen are angling for thrones of glory. James and John seemed to have no had no clue that following Jesus often means seats among the busboys. Following Jesus means a willingness to be counted among "the help." These two however, wanted orchestra seats, front row, center aisle, "one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory."

Somehow James and John must have missed class the times Jesus talked about the upside-down, topsy-turvy, counter culture concept of discipleship. Those who want to follow Jesus must be servants, "the help," as it were. Those who want to be a part of the new world order Jesus came to proclaim, "must be slave of all." For the former fishermen, James and John, this was no "bait-and-switch." Right from the get go, Jesus was clear about what it means to be a disciple. It was all tied up in being a servant. The Greek word is diakonia; we say deacon.

Next week we are going to be installing our first deacon at Grace. A cross - will be placed around her neck. A stole will be placed upon her shoulders. A towel will be draped across her arm. Cross. Stole. Towel. The cross, a symbol of suffering for the sake of others; the stole, a symbol of the yoke of service; the towel, a symbol of servanthood. Jesus said of himself, "I came not to be served, but to serve." He put that sermon into action on the night before his cross, as he took a basin and a towel and washed the feet of his followers. The symbols of diakonia are only symbols. But they are powerful and vivid reminders of what it means to be a deacon of Jesus Christ. In Baptism, we were all set apart for such servanthood. At her installation next Sunday, Carol Straub will rank with me, officially, at the bottom of the totem pole.

In our Gospel last week, Jesus told a man who was concerned about eternal life, "go, sell your toys and give to the poor." The man walked sadly away - for he had so, so many toys. The captain of the disciple team, Simon Peter, said to Jesus, "Look, we have left everything and followed you." A very pious way of informing Jesus, "We have paid our dues."

In response, Jesus tells Peter and the others what is going to happen to him when they get to Jerusalem. We know the litany: arrested, mocked, spit upon, flogged, and killed. Jesus speaks of gory things. James and John, two of the stars of the disciple team, think glory things. "Do for us whatever we ask. We want to sit on your left hand and right, in your glory"!

These all too human followers of Jesus, James and John, were less interested in putting their fingerprints on serving trays as they were trying to elbow their way to the top - the ultimate top. The kingdom of God. Again, Jesus was honest from the outset. Throughout his ministry, Jesus never hid from his followers the cost of discipleship. About picking up a cross, the burden of another. About being servants - the bus boys, wait staff and dishwashers, as it were. Jesus was always up front about making sacrifices. Not with any reward in mind ... but for the sake of others.

We understand, don't we? All to well. As one preacher has put it, "You can't blame the disciples for not comprehending what Jesus was saying. After all, what leader of a movement for total change can expect followers to stay with him or her by promising suffering, a life of service and obedience? No wonder Jesus had so few disciples and no wonder they were practically all gone when he met his death in Jerusalem." On that awful Friday, two thieves hung beside Jesus, at his right hand, and one at his left. James and John? Missing in action.

But praise God, James and John finally got it right! The same way I pray that we sometimes get it right. Following that first Easter, and in response to it, both James and John were willing to take hold of the symbols of their new trade - a cross, a yoke and a towel. Finally, and it's never too late, they recognized that in order to be great in the eyes of Jesus, they must be willing to be low men on the totem pole - seated, as it were, among the busboys.