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Sermons & Writings |
Loree Penner
Saint James, Monkton
September 20, 2009
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Many years ago, I worked in a church that was not much like Episcopal Churches. It had no stained glass, no altar for Eucharist. It had one red glass cross as a window behind the pulpit, and that was its only decoration. In this church I heard many messages about how to live a Christian life; some of them were excellent, some of them not so much; yet with the good and the bad, I learned a great deal about the Bible, about God, and about what it means to be a community of faith. There was one young preacher at the church who had great plans to change the world for Christ. Not one person at a time, but in a big way. And I thought he was the best thing since sliced bread. He preached a particular sermon that I heard over and over, for I worked for him at the time. This sermon was called "Being Great for God." In it, he told example after example of plain, ordinary people who had changed their world for the better - people no one would hear about, who did some great thing and became successful Christians. I discovered later that being Great for God isn't really what its cracked up to be. Indeed, it turns out, it was rather a strange thing to be bothered with, from a biblical perspective. But it was a popular message - and today we see that even the disciples were interested in being great. For God? For themselves? I wonder - In Mark's gospel, there have been a series of stories that we have not heard back to back, but that really go together. The feeding of the 5000, and then Jesus asking the disciples who they think he is. Jesus rebuking Peter because Peter doesn't like Jesus' message about dying. Then the transfiguration, which we hear three times a year, but not now, when it would make literary sense. These stories place us on a road to help us understand who Jesus was, and why he did what he did, just as Jesus' own road leads him on toward Jerusalem, and to the Cross. In the midst of that journey, we come to this passage, in which Jesus is taking a break from ministry to the many in order to concentrate on teaching the few - his disciples. So as they pass through Galilee, he tells them for the second time that he will be betrayed, and killed, and on the third day rise again. And here an interesting thing happens. The disciples don't say anything. The words in Mark indicate that the disciples did not understand what Jesus was saying, and were afraid to ask him to explain. Now think of the times you have been afraid to ask something. We've probably all had teachers that were masters at making us feel silly when we asked a question - Or perhaps our pride stopped us. Did people look up to us as leaders in the class, and to ask a question would reduce us in their eyes? Or were we one of those who never seemed to get it, and were afraid of ridicule? But there's another reason we don't ask for clarification. Sometimes we don't ask because we don't want to understand. Sometimes, in fact, we really do understand, but we don't want to hear the message. Nobody likes bad news. At least, people who think normally, generally tend to like good news better than bad. And when the news is so bad that it pops every dream, every hope, every idea one has, its often easier to pretend one never got the news in the first place. It's called denial. And its closely related to another technique, one that I have used with great alacrity, called deferment. When one doesn't want to think about something unpleasant, its easier to change the subject in one's mind to something one can tackle - something one has control over, rather than thinking about that which one cannot control. The most famous example of that is probably Scarlet O'Hara: "I won't think about it now," she said when something unpleasant happened. "I'll think about it tomorrow." Jesus' disciples had great plans. They believed they were following the true Messiah of Israel, and they fully expected this Messiah to do his duty and save Israel from its oppressors. Using force if necessary. Yet here was this Messiah once again harping on this idea that he was going to die. And the rise again part? Filed away in the Miscellaneous folder of their brains. They did not want to hear that Jesus the Messiah was going to die; nor did they want to understand why, or how. It was too much information. It made them uncomfortable. It was easier to say, "I don't get it," and to go on dreaming about Jesus' Kingdom, and what great part each would play in it. It was easier to think about being great for God. Its easier to think about greatness than it is to think about the Cross. Even greatness for God leaves the Cross on his stand, and removes the pain that comes as part of this journey of conversion. Jesus understood this. That's why he took a child in his arms, and told the disciples to welcome children. For in that society, children weren't honored and protected like they are in America. They weren't the priority. They were in fact, the least. If a man were to prioritize his family, he would put his father first, then his mother, his wife next, and his children last. For Jesus to welcome children was to turn the disciples' thinking upside down again. Who is this Messiah? First he talks of death; Next, a child is greater than a man. Ideas of who is the greatest are standing upon their heads. Greatness is in powerlessness. Greatness is in weakness. The Kingdom of God is upside down! This doesn't sound like the path of Greatness for God, or for any other purpose does it? Yet that is the paradox of our Christian faith. Indeed that is the path toward Conversion that one must follow. First the Cross. Then the resurrection to new life. People don't like pain any more than they like bad news. That's why they're afraid of bad news in the first place - because they fear the pain that will come. It's a human trait to protect ourselves. Yet, Jesus blessed the Vulnerable. It is human to want to be happy. Yet Jesus said pick up your cross and follow me. It is human to want to achieve; yet Jesus said the way to life is to humble yourself. So what does that mean for us? That we not worry about success in our lives? That we become doormats for people to walk on? That we seek a life of suffering and poverty? I don't think so. I think instead these scriptures remind us that, in the midst of a competitive world that is often hard and unforgiving, our God recognizes vulnerability, both ours and those around us. In the midst of our successes, and even in the midst of our failures, God remembers that we are small, and he is Great. And he asks us to remember this as well. God does not ask for greatness or perfection; God asks only that we are willing to learn more about him, willing to be open to things we don't understand, and willing to pick up our cross and follow him. |
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