Titanic.

Say the word, and everyone, everywhere knows the story.

Whether you know the name because you saw the movie, or you know the name because you spent the bulk of your life in the twentieth century, you still know the name. “Titanic” means huge, gargantuan, immense. The word “Titanic,” which rhymes with “gigantic,” brings visions of unstoppable power, immovable force, impenetrable resistance.

The “Titanic” really set the tone for the next hundred years, when 100 million people would be killed in the bloodiest century on record. In that single ship, the most advanced engineering, the heights of luxury and lavish design, the cutting edge of ingenuity . . . were combined and epitomized. There was nothing greater, or grander, than the “Titanic.”

And she sank on her maiden voyage.

The epitome of progress was destroyed by a big chunk of hard, blue water: an iceberg.

Today, our twenty-first century “Titanics” have different names, and more subtle sinkings. Here are the names of some 21st century “Titanics:” General Motors. Shearson Lehman. FreddieMac. Fannie Mae. Chrysler.

So many of us put so much of ourselves and so much of our livelihoods “aboard” these “Titanics.” Why? We were convinced that they were far “too big to fail.”

But eventually the icebergs came.

Nothing . . .

No one . . .

No business . . .

No nation . . .

No ideology . . .

Nothing is . . . “too big to fail.” No matter how large, no matter how powerful, companies that are poorly run, inexpertly handled, extravagantly over-spent: they will fail.

Egyptian Dynasties, Roman Imperialism, Charlemagne’s Rule, the Spanish conquests, Louis 14th, Great Britain’s “Empire of the Sun,” the “Age of America” — all have beginnings and endings. History gives us no example of any nation or company who climb to the top of the heap and stay there forever.

The true downside of Incarnation is Limitation. That is why Jesus’ ministry and message were not about up and down, success or failure, winning or losing. Fittingly, as one both fully human and fully divine, Jesus got to taste the raw flavor of failure at the very onset of his public ministry. Returning to his hometown of Nazareth Jesus got hit upside the face with the failure of familiarity.

How could Jesus have anything profound or inspired to offer the people of Nazareth when they had seen him running down the streets with a droopy diaper?

How could the “son of Mary,” one of apparently questionable parentage and no social standing, be a possible messiah?

How could a mere “tekton”, a stone-mason, a metal worker, a wood carver, a day laborer, claim any authority to speak God’s word with divine insight?

And yet he did. Jesus returned to Nazareth. Jesus made a point of going home and facing the ultimate test – the home crowd. He knew the expected consequences. He knew the rumors of rejection, that “familiarity breeds contempt.” But mostly he knew Nazareth needed the word of God, and he needed to offer the face of God to them first. He longed to give back to them the words of repentance, the sprit of forgiveness, the face of truth, the unction and function of blessing.

But Nazareth could not hear. Nazareth was deafened by the din of familiarity. Jesus was a known entity. A common kid. How could he have a new message to offer them? One of the hardest things in the world is to “know” the familiar.

Let’s think of our the high school reunions. Imagine being in the high school class of Bill Gates. We can’t do college, because Gates was a Harvard drop-out. But if you had been in Bill Gates’ 10 year high school reunion, you would have talked to a hugely geeky guy, a wannabe working on some weirdo-ideas about some technological wizardry. Ten Year Anniversary grade for Bill Gates: Loser.

But what about the 20th Anniversary of the Bill Gates high school reunion? Quite a different story. How about the richest man in the world? Worth billions. No longer a geek, but “The Microsoft Magnate.”

Who’d a thunk it!

Don’t listen to those who tell you, some people and companies are “too big to fail.” No one is beyond failure. No one is too big or too small to fail. Everyone, indeed, DOES fail. The key is to know that “failing” is not FAILING. Losing at one chance or stance in life is no sign that you will always be a loser.

Jesus went home to Nazareth—and lost.

Jesus went to Jerusalem—and lost.

Jesus went to the crowds—and lost. In a majority vote of epic proportions, the crowds called for Barabas, and Jesus lost.

It doesn’t matter what you lose to; it only matter what you lose for.

You don’t fudge on the quality control factors it is your job to measure. You get fired for being a “whistle-blower.” You lose.

You don’t turn in the struggling single parent you notice slipping an extra cheese stick into their grocery bag. You get called on the carpet for coddling a criminal. Your pay gets docked. You lose.

You step up and put yourself between an abusive parent and their kid. You get bruises. You lose.

You refuse to participate in a corporate glad-handing game. You are ear-marked as a “trouble maker.” You lose.

You see “your” crowd of “good” kids targeting a social reject and mocking them for being different — and you don’t go along. You are ostracized. You lose.

One of the most magnificent divine disclosures that Jesus could have ever given to humanity is today’s gospel text in Mark. Jesus is told by people he loves that he is just a no-count nobody from a nowhere place called Nazareth. What does he think he is doing? Who does he think he is? What made him too big for his britches?

Jesus is utterly rejected by a community — not because of what he knows, but because of what they know about him.

We all fail. We all are turned away by people we love. Our pie-crusts are doughy, our finances are flaky, our businesses are iffy, while our rationales are solid. One of the most gracious gifts Jesus gave to his disciples — both the original 12 and all of us who strive to follow in their footsteps — is this sacrament of failure: shake the dust off your feet, and move on.

Not every one will receive you.

Not every one will love you.

Not every one will appreciate you.

Not every sermon I deliver to you is brilliant and beautiful. In fact, I’ve been right in the middle of sermons that have fallen flat as a pancake, and I’ve started shuffling my feet. I take the sacrament of failure.

But when you do fail, when you do fall, fall and fail forward. The most amazing thing about this sacrament of failure is that it is not failure. Failure is just a different word for a new beginning. New beginnings are the first word in a new life, a redeemed life.

Here’s one little example: the destruction of the Titanic brought forth a new respect and understanding of the power of the natural world, the untapped energy of the universe. Eventually understanding that energy brought the beginning of knowledge as nuclear energy, the almost unimaginable powers of fusion and fission that lie behind our visits to the moon and our trips to outer space.

When Jesus counseled his first disciples to “shake off the dust from their feet,” they were to shake off their souls from those people and places that produced only negative energy, negative power. Not one of us can control the negative powers of the universe. Not one of us can rebuff the negative powers of the universe. But, regardless of what we cannot control, we can decide what our own involvement in those powers and principalities will be. We can decide whether or not to participate in those powers that shift, shape and shimmy about in our lives.

What’s involved in taking what we are calling Jesus’ “sacrament of failure?’

First, Jesus says for us to wade right in. Take few protective provisions, and instead trust yourself and your wellbeing to those about whom you know little. In other words, take risks for the gospel.

Second, read the signs. If the people you encounter are welcoming of Jesus’ presence and power, then dwell among them. But if they reject what you know is right and good, Jesus gives a different directive. There are signs that tell you whether the seeds you are planting are taking root, or whether they’re falling on rocks and weeds.

Third, get out of there. Failure does not lead to complacency or passivity. Failure leads to activity and purpose. You fall. You fall forward, get yourself up, shake yourself off, and move on. Or as Jesus put it, “shake the dust off your feet.” Today this might mean resigning a job. This might mean quitting an abusive relationship. This might mean passing over a lucrative partnership.

But most importantly of all, and this is #4, keep your dreams alive. Keep your dream alive with clean slates and clean soles (souls). Nobody is too big to fail. But nobody is too small to prevail.

Jesus’ failure at Nazareth shows us how to triumph at life. The stark humanity of Jesus, the very thing that caused Nazareth to reject him, is what led him to the cross and to prevail over sin and death.

For it was only on that cross that God could triumph over failure, over fallibility, over death.

Do you hear it? Jesus’ first step toward Golgatha was taken in Nazareth, in his hometown, in his home synagogue, where he was rejected and turned away. Your greatest successes will come from your greatest failures.

Nobody is too big to fail. But nobody is too small to prevail.