Denial & Acceptance
September 13, 2009
Reading: Mark 8:27-37
Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?
Sermon: Denial and Acceptance by Rev Doreen Oughton
This has been a great week for me in terms of sermon preparation, just the sort of thing that hooked me the first time I was ever asked to preach. The gospel reading is just so rich, so much to wonder about, to ponder. First there is Jesus asking who people say he is. I wonder why he asks. Is he just curious? What is at stake in the answer? Then he asks the disciples who they say he is. Again I wonder why he asks. Is it a test? Did Peter pass? I mean, Jesus pretty much just tells him to keep his mouth shut about that. Hmm, very curious. Then there is his teaching about what lies ahead for him as a Messiah, something very different from what they imagined it would be. Peter’s “rebuke” seems quite understandable to me, “don’t go getting yourself killed, now. We NEED you.” But Jesus’s angry retort, calling him Satan, seems so strong. I wonder if Jesus needed that kind of force to strengthen his own resolve to persevere in the face of his coming trials.
But it was his words to the crowd that called to me for further exploration, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Deny yourself and take up your cross. What does he mean by that? Now this is a hard teaching I think, and most of the commentaries and sermon helps I explored focused on the importance of sacrifice, the willingness to remain faithful and steadfast in following Jesus even when persecuted, even to the point of death. It would be like saying, “If anyone wants to follow me, forget about creature comforts and sit yourself down in the electric chair.” How many would sign up for that? Sure, he does finish up with an assurance that people who are willing to lose their life for the gospel will ultimately save it, and those that cling to worldly wealth and comfort will lose their lives.
Now gospel writer Mark was writing for a community that didn’t have much in terms of worldly comfort, a community that was being persecuted, so these words might have given them comfort and faith that they were on a Godly path. But what truth and teaching do these words hold for us today? If we enjoy worldly success and comfort, does it mean we cannot be committed to our faith? If we have not been persecuted, if we sometimes compromise our principles, do we lose our chance for eternal life? And what does it mean to pick up our cross today, here in the U.S. when the Christian faith is not even remotely persecuted, when it is has been co-opted by worldly powers to justify oppression and support the status quo?
I’ve been wondering a lot about what it means to deny oneself. All the commentaries I read interpret the word “deny” here as deprive. But what is interesting is that it is only in this exchange that the word “deny” is interpreted that way. Every other place the word “deny” is used in the New Testament, it means to say you don’t know someone. Jesus tells Peter he will deny him three times, and Peter does deny him in that sense. They are not talking about deprivation. So I wondered why it was different here. Perhaps it is not. Perhaps denying oneself doesn’t mean to deprive oneself, but to say you don’t know yourself. But, hmm, what would that mean? So I looked further to get a sense of the various meanings offered for the Greek word interpreted as “himself, themselves, etc.” Just like “deny” was interpreted in different ways, maybe there were nuances for “self” that would answer, or raise more questions. And you know what? There is no such word. There is no word there in the original Greek. The interpreters just filled that in for clarification. So the original Greek says “…deny, and take up your cross.” Hmm. So one way of reading this might be, “say you don’t know and take up the instrument of torturous death.”
It is interesting that here Jesus is telling people to deny, where everywhere else he seems not too happy about it. That part I get. I know much of my work in mental health and addictions treatment was focused on helping people move out of denial. Used in this sense, the opposite of deny is accept, or acknowledge, rather than indulge. Rather than deny Jesus, we are asked to accept him as Messiah, we are asked to acknowledge his message and his divinity.
I think it does make sense that interpreters insert a word for self here, but I also think we need to consider nuances of the word self. In some spiritual ways of thinking, there is both a Self, capital S, and a self, small s. The small self is about ego and personality. It is driven by fear, image, and illusions of control and safety. When we talk about “I” and “mine,” this self is in charge. When we cling to or fight for our sense of individuality, this self is in charge. The large Self is the eternal part of us, connected to the collective wisdom of all beings, and to God. It is creative, wise, and loving, tuned in to intuition and guidance. When we seek to mesh our unique gifts with the gifts of others, this Self is in charge. When we see connections between things, when we get excited about being part of something larger, this Self is in charge. When we share joyfully and receive graciously, this Self is in charge. What I think is desired is less Self-denial and more self-denial, less self-indulgence and more Self-acceptance.
You know I might challenge Jesus on his call to deny self, even the small self, because I think it is the things we deny that crucify. Even the fear-driven, misguided small self needs acceptance, though not indulgence. If we can’t recognize these all too human parts of ourselves, accept them and even love them, we are likely to project them onto others and make scapegoats. I think of these parts of us, the small self, as sort of a young child, fearful and frustrated. Sometimes it’s given to tantrums. And the best way to help a child out of a tantrum is not to deny or ignore, not to indulge it, but to recognize it, to say, “I know that feeling,” to accept the child as lovable even through the tantrum. You call forth the (large) Self from the (small) self. That is the paradox, in admitting to the self, we make room for the Self. In acknowledging that we lie, we grow in truth. In accepting our shortcomings, we see our interdependence, our need for others and for God. Perhaps if we humans had been better able to identify our small selves, we would not have been so outraged by Jesus’s call for the large Self that we crucified him.
I’ve seen such transformations. I’ve known people who have indulged the small self to despairing depths, and were able to see its limitations and destructive power. Even not knowing what would come of it, they have shined a light on this small self, called it out, and offered it up. “I was unfaithful,” “I stole,” “I can’t be trusted to tell the truth,” “I drink every day.” And in admitting it, they make it harder for the small self to stay in charge. They made room for the large Self. They serve their time, make amends and restitution, tell the truth, get clean. And it doesn’t stop there. They use this deep knowledge of the small self to help others recognize it, they call forth the large Self in others, with love and acceptance rather than judgment and condemnation. This small self, when not in charge, has much to offer.
So now that we have sorted out the denial / acceptance of self / Self, we are ready to take up our crosses, yes? What are our crosses anyway? Are there any ways we are subject to persecution for our faith beliefs? Are we putting ourselves on the line by following Jesus? For me, I think the way I suffer for my faith is through awareness. I am called in my highest Self to bear witness to, take action against and refuse collusion with violence, oppression and injustice. I fall seriously short. My heroes, my modern prophets are those who let go of being accepted by others, remaining in the illusion of control and safety, and step up. Perhaps our crosses are the pain we see and are called to address. We don’t all see the same things. Mother Teresa saw the poverty around her and entered into it. Martin Luther King Jr saw and lived racial oppression, named it and took action. Rachel Carson saw the assault on the environment and named it powerfully. They didn’t seek retaliation, punishment, death. No, they all sought to call forth the Selves of others from the small selves that had been indulged.
There are people all around us, there are people in this very room who see things, who name things, who take action. There are people who see or live with the effects of cancer up close and walk all night in the rain to raise awareness and funds for a cure. There are people who open their eyes to those without shelter and send blankets or socks, or help build houses. There are those who see or know hunger and organize crop walks or donate to the food pantry or cook and serve meals at a soup kitchen. Maybe our cross is whatever suffering we see and are moved through faith to respond to, whether in ourselves or in another. Maybe the person living with domestic violence finally sees her Self, accepts her belovedness as God’s child and is moved to get away. Maybe over time she is able to use her experience to see others in similar situations, call forth their Selves and help them get out. My belief and hope is that taking up our crosses does not mean we put ourselves out for crucifixion, but that we take up the suffering we see, we address it.
Another interesting thing I discovered when I looked to the various translations of the Greek, is that the word translated as “take up,” airo, can also be translated as “take away.” Maybe we are called to take away the suffering we see, as best we can. Or, consistent with what happened with Jesus’s suffering and death on the cross, we are called to transform the suffering. Just as Peter was short-sighted in focusing on the suffering and death of Jesus, rebuking him, so do we sometimes get stuck in hopelessness and despair of suffering. But Jesus had more to say, more to do. He did not stop at suffering and death but went through resurrection – rose and came back to us in a way than can never die. We too will suffer in this world if we are followers of Christ, whether personally or vicariously. We will die to this life no matter how much we indulge our small self with accumulation of stuff, with bubbles of illusory protection, with blinders to the suffering of others. The question is, what quality of life do we want while we are here?
My belief and experience is that following Christ does not mean the electric chair, the gallows or crucifixion, but a joy and freedom unattainable by any small-self indulgence. When I deny my small self the power to act out – when I bite my tongue against a put down, or stop asking “where’s mine,” when I get out of the mall, my Self grows larger. I feel more connected with God and others, more at peace, more empowered to see and address suffering.
Jesus asks us, who do you say that I am? I say, Jesus you are all the fullness of life itself. You who have known the deepest suffering both in what you have seen and what you have experienced, also know and bring the greatest joy. You are where I seek to put my heart, my mind, my soul, my body. You are the one I trust with my small self, the one who will love her and heal her and transform her. Who do you say that Jesus is?
