“What We Say and What We Do” – Sermon on Sept 16, 2012
Sept 16, 2012
Scripture: 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: What We Say and What We Do
by Rev. Doreen Oughton
When I was a little girl, my parents would take our whole large family on outings – beach, amusement parks, picnics, all kinds of things. Now we had six children in the family, and I can remember how we’d all be crammed in the car on the way home, dirty and sticky and tired, flopping against one another, our eyes growing heavy as the road hummed under the wheels. I remember that I used to try to stay awake, though I would close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. What I hoped for so much was that my parents would think we were all sound asleep, and they would start to talk about us kids, would start to talk about me. What would they say about me to each other? What do they really think of me. I was so eager to overhear, to listen in on their private conversations about me. I still wonder sometimes what people might be saying about me, or how they talk about me when I’m not there. My sisters and brothers all got together for the weekend last week, and I wasn’t able to make it. I have resisted the temptation, but tempted I have been to ask, “Did you talk about me?”
Jesus is more direct than I was. He doesn’t pretend to be asleep to find out what his followers are saying about him. First he asks the disciples what the word around town about him is, then he asks his followers directly, “What are you saying?” or more precisely, “Who do you say that I am?”
Well there has been lots of talk about Jesus, all the miracles he has performed – healing, casting out demons, feeding thousands, walking on water, even bringing a girl back from the dead. So people have been speculating quite a bit about who Jesus is. The Jewish community drew from their scriptures, guessing it was Elijah or another prophet come back to them, or the recently killed John the Baptist. But Peter answers for the disciples – “You are the Messiah.”
Does anyone know what the word “Messiah” means? It means “anointed.” Peter says that Jesus is the anointed one. So what does that mean, anyway? To be anointed means to have oil or water put on your head. We’ve done some anointing here – with water in baptism, with ashes at the start of Lent, and with oil for special blessings. To be anointed has significance only when we understand who is doing the anointing, and for what purpose. We know that when the minister pours water on the head and says the baptismal words, that the person is beginning a formal relationship with a Christian church. We know that when ashes are put on your forehead, they are to represent repentance and contrition, preparing the heart and soul for the Passion to come. When I have dabbed you with oil, it has been to remind you that God is present with you, and to ask for special blessing.
The term Messiah wouldn’t have had much significance to the Romans or Greeks, but it sure meant something for the Jewish people. In their culture, certain special people were anointed for certain special roles and tasks– kings, priests and prophets. To them, an “anointed one” and certainly the anointed one would meet a whole checklist of criteria outlined in the scriptures. God had promised their ancestor King David that his line would continue forever. And yet there was no Jewish king ruling them. They had a king appointed by Rome. The Jewish hope was that God would anoint a new king for them, and hence one powerful enough to overthrow the Roman rule. Another hope for some of the Jewish people was for a new High Priest to be anointed, someone who would reform the Temple hierarchy. Still others hoped for a prophet to be anointed, one who would share visions and warnings and would alert the people when another anointed one came.
So for Peter to confess Jesus as the anointed one doesn’t really clear things up. I think Peter knows that the Messiah is set apart for a divine purpose of the utmost importance, and he is acknowledging that Jesus is of that level of significance to the Jewish people. And so he is right in that way. But there’s a lot left open to interpret. So Jesus doesn’t want him to go talking about him as the Messiah when there is so much room for projection regarding just what that means. And so Jesus starts to clarify. He tells them he has been what he has been anointed by God for – suffering, rejection, death and resurrection.
To me it is no surprise that Peter protests, and isn’t it interesting that Peter “takes him aside,” perhaps not wanting to embarrass Jesus by how far off Jesus is in knowing what, in Peter’s eyes, it means to be the Messiah. Jesus calling him Satan is a little strong, but I’ve always thought that Jesus had already wrestled with this himself. You know what it’s like when you are tempted to do something not quite above board, but decide not to, but then have that very thing suggested to you by someone else? For instance, my son had asked if he could take a car of ours with him to school. I thought about it, reasoning that he is already on his father’s insurance policy, so t wouldn’t cost us any extra. I realized that would be dishonest – since he would actually be primary driver of one of our vehicles, the right thing to do would be to add him to our policy. So I told him he would have to have a job that would make it worthwhile to add him. When I talked about the situation with a few people, they all suggested just leaving him on his father’s plan. I probably responded a little more forcefully than I had to that that would be dishonest, and I did so in order to strengthen my own resolve to do the most honest thing. I think it’s like that for Jesus. Maybe part of him is tempted to call down divine powers that would overthrow the Romans, restructure the Temple and persuade the people that the kindom is at hand. But he knows that is not what he is anointed to do, and so he pushes back against the temptation.
I always thought the term “get behind me” was like saying, “get out of my way.” But in my research, I learned that it is what would be said to a disciple or potential disciple. It is a way of saying “follow me.” So Jesus isn’t telling Peter to get out of his way, but is saying follow the way that I lead you. Don’t try to lead me, or follow your own ideas of what my anointing means. Follow me. Get behind me. And then he goes on to explain just what that means. And it is not about saying the right thing about Jesus, or believing the right thing about Jesus. It is about risking everything, your way of life, even your very life, to live out the good news, to walk in the way of Christ – a way of mercy, forgiveness, humility, sacrifice, generosity, justice, peace and love.
Do you see that it is not about what you say? It is, in the words of Sarah Dylan Brewster about what you mean and what your life testifies that you mean. If someone says, “Jesus is God from God, light from light,” and what is meant is that God which Jesus is from is a very powerful being in the sky who’s itching to punish everyone I dislike or find threatening,” my confession of Jesus is empty at best and oppressive at worst. I can say that Jesus is “my Savior,” and if my life shows that Jesus saves me from responsibility to care for my neighbors, whether locally or in the Middle East, my confession is a distraction at best. If I testify that Jesus is Lord, but mean and live as such that Jesus’ lordship is a kind of lording it over those perceived as weak or dirty, I am way off track of walking in the way of Jesus.
And you know what, walking in the way of Christ, getting behind the one anointed for suffering, rejection and death before resurrection, is not an easy path. It is dangerous, it is difficult. We want to think that when we give ourselves over to Jesus things will get better for us. And for who we are as God’s people, they will. That is the promise of the resurrection. But it also involves suffering, rejection, and lots of little deaths to who we have been. There’s the story of John Woolman, a successful Quaker merchant in the 18th century who lived a lovely life until God convicted him one day of the offense of holding slaves. After that, John Woolman gave up his prosperous business; he used his money to try and free slaves and even started wearing undyed suits to avoid relying on dye that slave labor produced. So you see, before or at the same time our faith solves problems, it also increases the number of problems we have and their intensity. Now mind you I’m not talking about suffering for suffering’s sake, but for the sake of the gospel – the good news of mercy, forgiveness, justice and peace. We will suffer when we let go of our ways of living that interfere with that good news.
In wrapping up, let me share something I read in a sermon by Rev. J.C. Austin. He heard that at the height of the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa, when Christians were literally suffering and dying for justice and redemption there, Archbishop Desmond Tutu used to gather his staff around him in the mornings for prayer. And often as he was closing, he would ask, “If being Christian became a crime, would there be enough evidence to convict us?” What a provocative question. Is it just coming to church on Sunday that would convict us? Gosh I hope not. I hope people can see that we follow Jesus Monday through Saturday as well. But it’s a good question to ask ourselves. Besides my presence in church, the reading I do to prepare sermons, the things I say about my faith, I have to wonder if my day to day living reflects my commitment to following Jesus. Would there be enough evidence to convict me? What about you? Could you be considered guilty of being a follower , of getting behind Jesus the Christ? What more can we do to make it an open and shut case? In what way can we pick up our cross, and seek to lose our life for the sake of the good, good news? I pray we can walk to Calvary together, and rejoice together at whatever resurrections await us. May it be so.
