Rev. Sandy Lacey
February 25, 2024
Today we read again from the Gospel of Mark. Right before today’s passage Jesus has asked his disciples a question as they were traveling through the Gentile area of Caesarea Philippi: “Who do people say I am?” In the midst of an area known for worship of many gods, Jesus looks around at all the temples, statues, etc. and asked his disciples this leading question. They all respond with what they have heard – “John the Baptist, Elijah.” Then Jesus asks who they think he is. Peter responds that he is the Messiah. And today’s text is what happens next.
My clergy friend Bob says that just like comedians are excited when certain high profile people speak (because they will have enough fodder for jokes to last a while), we Pastors are happy to find Peter in our lectionary passage for the week. The things that Peter says, the things Peter does, usually provide lots of angles and opportunities for preachers to use. He is so gloriously human, so gloriously honest, so gloriously willing to say what is on his mind, often so gloriously wrong, that we preachers never have to worry about inspiration. Today is such a day.
Described as the crucial hinge in the Gospel of Mark,[1] today’s passage moves us from Jesus’ teaching, preaching, and miracle performances to answer the crucial question of what it means to be the Messiah. It is not going to be a rosy path from here on out; no more sweet pastoral scenes of Jesus turning water into wine and carrying/holding sheep or little children; instead, it is conflict and turmoil ahead. The disciples may have been thinking that it is time to “get out the swords and sharpen them” time in preparation for the battle to come. Or the disciples may have been planning Jesus’ star unveiling on the Jerusalem Star Walk. The path ahead will not be rosy; instead, Jesus tells them it is going to get rough. He tells them the people in power are not going to like him or them; in fact, they’re going to torture and kill him. But after he’s killed, he says he’ll come back in three days. For Peter and the other disciples, that does not compute. Peter was the only one who was willing to correct him though: “You have forgotten, Jesus, what it means to be a Messiah. Let me remind you that Messiahs do not die. Messiahs rule and tell others what to do. Messiahs have power and you are the Messiah.” For his efforts, Peter is called Satan, an adversary, by Jesus – exactly like the adversary who tempted Jesus in the wilderness. Jesus had defeated that adversary, that temptation, once before and now sees the same temptation again in Peter. Jesus will spend the rest of his time with his disciples trying to help them comprehend that God’s power is strongest not through a sword, but through a cross. It was a hard lesson for them to comprehend and it is a hard lesson for us to comprehend today.
If you had to point to any one thing that most clearly represents the Christian faith, what would it be? Most people would say that it is a cross. It is the universal symbol in all Christian houses of worship – this symbol of sacrificial love. On Tuesday I asked the pre-school children to look around the sanctuary and find how many crosses they could see. Take a look around – the symbol is prevalent, from the paraments, to the stained glass in the windows, including the marvelous window behind me, to the Table, to the Christ candle on the Table, to the different crosses some of us are wearing. Some crosses have a circle around them, a Celtic cross that represents God’s never-ending love. Some crosses, especially in the Catholic Church are not empty – Jesus is still there with obvious pain on his face and body. Typically, in the Protestant traditions we have empty crosses, focusing on Jesus’ resurrection; however, I cannot help but wonder if the Catholic Church may have a point that we Protestants are often in a hurry to move past the crucifixion to the resurrection. Many times I think we do not spend enough time considering the pain and agony Jesus encountered as he was publicly executed.
So, centuries later, after Jesus’ death and resurrection, we have the cross as the primary symbol for how we remember Jesus, his love for us, and our faith. But I wonder if we have whitewashed it? We make it into something pretty. Wood carvings are neat and orderly; they are smooth with no rough edges. There are gold, silver, and ivory crosses; there are crosses with jewels in them. There are crosses made out of different colors of stained glass and pretty fabric. I am not complaining about these different kinds of crosses because I like pretty things just like the next person but occasionally I think it is a little odd. I mean it would be like fashioning an electric chair out of gold to wear around our necks if Jesus were alive today. One of my favorite pictures of a cross was one that Mike and I took of an exposed junction box in the ruins of our home that was destroyed by fire in 2004. It was scarred, discolored, ugly and symbolic of hope in a surprising kind of way as it stood there amid the ruins of our house. Also, Mike has a cross from a spiritual retreat that is scarred by soot and singed by that same fire. It is harder to whitewash that cross. It is easier to see an element of pain and cost in that cross. The Apostle Paul claims the cross is the hinge on which our faith lies and it represents sheer “foolishness to those who do not believe.” In other words, it seemed crazy to think the public humiliation and death of a Messiah is the hallmark of our faith. The people in Paul’s day thought the Jesus’ followers were out of their minds. Today we don’t think much about it at all and if we do, we gloss over its meaning. Some people would call that indifference.
G. Studdert-Kennedy wrote a poem, entitled Indifference. (I have taken license to change the name of the location in the poem to fit our context.)
When Jesus came to Golgotha, They hanged Him on a tree, They drove great nails through hands and feet, And made a Calvary. They crowned Him with a crown of thorns, Red were His wounds and deep, For those were crude and cruel days, And human flesh was cheap!
When Jesus came to Rockledge They simply passed Him by, They never hurt a hair of Him, They only let Him die; For men have grown more tender, And they would not give Him pain, They only just passed down the street, And left Him in the rain.
Still Jesus cried, “Forgive them, For they know not what they do!” And still it rained the winter rain That drenched Him through and through; The crowd went home and left the streets,
Without a soul to see, And Jesus crouched against a wall And cried for Calvary.
The critique against us today is indifference. We are indifferent because we are in a hurry, and we are so busy. My friend Bob puts it a different way. He says, “I wonder how many times we, like Peter, have taken Jesus aside and asked him to whitewash the cross?” How are we trying to “pretty up” the cross? What are we trying to negotiate with Jesus today? Is it – “I’ll give more of my time and resources to you when I make this amount of money God.” Or is it “God, you know I’d help that hungry person if I thought they were truly needy and not going to just spend it on booze.” Or is it “I’ll help next year.” “You know Jesus wants us to be self-sufficient, so we have to first take care of ourselves before we can help others.” What are the negotiations you are trying to make with Jesus in the back of your mind and heart? This passage is plain though. It says each one of us, in order to be a follower of Christ, must deny ourselves, our wants, our desires so that we might pick up our cross and follow him. Apparently, the kind of love Jesus is interested in means sacrifice. It means I must place others before myself. It may not be pretty and I may really struggle to do it, but it is what Jesus calls me to do.
To live in a state of denial, goes against the grain of our culture. We have a hard time with it and we do it poorly. The first step is to always acknowledge our failure. Hello, my name is Sandy and I am a sinner. You say, “hello Sandy.” I am a child of God and I confess that I prefer to do things my own way. I have trouble denying my wants, dreams, and priorities; and I often whitewash the cost of the cross. I am truly powerless in the face of my own pride . . . and I need Jesus and all of you to help me face my fear and worry about picking up my cross to follow him. I suspect that I am not alone.
To confess is a beautiful thing. AMEN.
_____
[1] Joseph D. Small, “Theological Perspective” in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 2. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008.) p. 68.