I’d like to begin this morning with a very big thank you to all who responded to last Sunday’s sermon – to those who texted during (and after the service), those who attended the Monday night discussion, those who stopped after church to talk with me, those at various meetings during the week who continued the discussion on the “Why” of our faith – thank you. Clearly, this opportunity to probe the motivation behind what we do as the Body of Christ touched a deep place in many people’s hearts and minds. I hope you were as inspired as I was by the ongoing conversation, the developing proposals (which we will hear more about in the weeks to come) and the thoughtful considerations of so many different people. I was encouraged by the number of people who did respond by text – and so the invitation continues: if you would like to engage in the conversation, opened up by this morning’s sermon, please text me with your ideas, questions and thoughts (either during the service or later).
Last Sunday, within the context of the Moderator-elect’s theme of “Reviving the Flame” we considered the question “do we know why we do what we do?” Some of you offered specific and particular responses about belonging to a community with a particular way of life; where spiritual nurture is as essential as food and drink; where giving and receiving from others is so very important; where responding to the needs and the pain of the world is given high priority. Two text-responses reminded me of how open-ended the ‘why’ question is. “Why – the eternal question” one of you wrote…. This was expanded by another “Why is a never ending question! You can never finish answering it!” (So, the question of why remains for ongoing consideration – even as we move this morning to another eternal question – that of ‘who’ – one which several of you also raised over this week.)
The gospel reading set down for today starts with a ‘who’ question – when Jesus asks his disciples “who do people say that I am?”
Have you ever been brave enough – or made yourself vulnerable enough – to ask that question of your friends: Who do other people say that I am – and who do you say that I am? If you dared ask your friends that question – if you had the courage to open yourself up that much to your friends – how would they answer you? Would they describe you by your role (you are a teacher) – or your relationship (you are my best friend)? Would they suggest whom you resemble (you are your mother, or grandfather all over again)? Or would they be more likely to describe the way they would like you to be? Would you even recognise yourself in their answer?
I think there’s a little bit of all of this in the disciples’ response to Jesus’ apparently simple question: “Who do people say that I am – and who do you say that I am?” “They say you’re like your cousin John the Baptist, you’re Elijah, you’re one of the prophets, and I think, says Peter, I think you’re the Messiah…."
Who do you say that Jesus is?
Usually Peter is given good press for this particular declaration. But I wonder, does the reading we have before us actually affirm his response? I’m not so sure that it does. I wonder whether Peter was trying a little hard to describe the way he’d like to see Jesus be – rather than the way Jesus would like to be seen. In the verses that follow this ‘who’ question and answer, we pick up a theme which runs through Mark’s gospel: the disciples misunderstand again and again - they just don’t get who Jesus is – and by inference, it is suggested that we, the readers of the gospel, don’t get it either.
If not eternal and never-ending, the answer to the ‘who’ question is at least much more complex than any one name or title. Some might think Jesus to be his cousin, others might see him as a prophet, Peter thought him to be the Messiah, but the language Jesus uses here to describe himself is more enigmatic – he’s the Son of Man. I’m a mortal, human person standing here beside you, he tells his disciples; I’m a man – a human being – who is going to suffer, be rejected and die – just like you – and out of that suffering new life, new hope, new possibilities will emerge, but I’m still human. And, like for so many of us in the centuries to follow, Peter does not find this response very palatable. He wants Jesus to fulfil his dream. And so he rebukes Jesus – no Jesus, you aren’t going to die – you are the Messiah – you are the one that will save us from having to go through all the painful, oppressive, suffering moments in life. And Jesus is having none of that. He spells out a different vision – one that takes in a bigger picture, where living in God acknowledges the total reality of living in the here and now (including the suffering and death).
Who is this man, whom we follow?
In the tradition of the Wisdom preacher before him, he offers a way of living right there in the midst of our panic, anguish and calamity – a way that heals, but doesn’t remove suffering; that gives life without removing dying – a wisdom, life-giving way.
If we are going to articulate the ‘why’ and the ‘who’ of our faith, we need to be clear about this different focus. “The disciples’ misunderstanding – and our own – comes from an entrenched way of thinking [defined by self-centred desire]… the problem with [this Jesus, this] Son of Man is that he disappoints our foremost fantasies.
[In the imagination of our hearts]… even if we have rank, it is not high enough. Even if we have money, we are not wealthy enough. Even if we command respect, there is always one who ridicules us. We need an increase of importance. As eagerly as we want to promote ourselves, just as eagerly do we want to protect ourselves. We sense the fragility of our lives. A fall from the little grace we have haunts us. We fear becoming sick, and old, and dying. We never have enough or are enough … we ‘lack’.
But [oh yes, we think our saving grace is that] we can fantasize. … [in our Messianic dreams]… we can spin scenarios of revenge …we can close our eyes and see ourselves in charge, making decisions that help thousands and who resound with adulation. Of course, we will be healthy far into old age and die like Zorba the Greek, standing and howling out the window at winter. We may be little in reality, but we are large in dream…
Jesus profoundly disappointed the fantasy of human fulfillment. The Son of Man goes a different way and offers a different [path for] all who follow him. He lives a life of trust in God and service of others. He does not harm others to secure his own life. In fact, saving himself is the last thing that is on his mind. Therefore, he does not mitigate our fear by making us great and assure us of our importance by allowing us to lord it over others. He will not sanction our own chronic concern with our status and position or look the other way while others suffer so we can save our life in this world. In short, he does not give us what we want.”[1]
This is not necessarily very comforting for those of us who seek certainty and power – but it is the Wisdom-way of the one we seek to follow.
David Adam, writing on the prayer attributed to St Patrick “Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me” reminds us that although we have no clue about what lies ahead; our confidence comes in knowing who is ahead of us. With that knowledge, the future is not quite unknown.
Who is this man whom we follow?
“If anyone wants to become my followers” says Jesus, the Wisdom of God, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” This is neither a call to grandiosity nor to masochism – but rather an invitation to give up on our own self-centered, foolish desires and follow into the streets – into the places of pain and suffering – into the market-place, where the ways of compassion, love and justice proclaim a way of life which brings hope, liberation and transformation for all.
[1] John Shea The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers 2005, p.228-229
No comments:
Post a Comment