Friday, September 21, 2012

Mark 8:27-38 - "Following"


            Last week, Jesus was trying to get away from it all, and so he headed into alien lands, into modern day Lebanon, moving through the cities of Tyre and Sidon, healing daughters of foreigners and pagan deaf mutes along the way.  This week, he is still trying to get away from it all, and we find that he and his disciples have wandered back into the Holy Lands of Judaism and are just outside the ancient Roman city of Caesarea Philippi in northern Galilee.   Situated near the base of Mount Hermon and the source of the Jordan River, the land they traveled was also the site of a few Jewish outposts or settlements. 
            It was here that Jesus kicked off his sandals, settled back, and began again to teach his disciples, and it is here – in this very passage we just read - at what is virtually the midpoint of this Gospel narrative, that Jesus has a very important conversation with his disciples.  It is a conversation on which the entire Gospel hinges.
            To paraphrase William Shakespeare in “The Tempest,” this is the moment when all that is past becomes the prologue for all that is to come.  You see, halfway through this Gospel of Mark, Jesus dramatically changes direction. “The happy, crowd-pleasing days of preaching and healing in Galilee are ending, and Jesus has set his face toward Jerusalem.” (Mickey Anders)  And for those of us who know his story, the road to Jerusalem will lead to his untimely death.
            In the first seven chapters of this Gospel, Jesus’ ministry of healing has flourished.  He has developed quite a following even as he has also encouraged a good amount of criticism for his actions by the temple authorities.  Now that he is alone with his disciples, he wants to check out the gossip and hear what the grapevine has been saying about him. 
            “Who do people say that I am?”  He queries Peter, James, John, and the others. 
            “Some say you are like John the Baptist.”  Though recently dead, his head presented to King Herod’s wife on a solid silver serving platter, John, liked Jesus, had called for repentance among the people to whom he preached and apparently had done a good number of healings himself. 
            “Others say you are Elijah.”  Oh, Elijah, the greatest of all Jewish prophets who, as the story was told, had not really ever died but was instead carried off to heaven in a fiery chariot – and would one day come again.
            Surely these answers reaffirmed to Jesus that his ministry was effective.  He was making a difference.  People were beginning to see him in the same light as they did some of the most memorable figures in modern and ancient Jewish history.  That alone must have made Jesus feel pretty good, but it was not enough.
            “And who do you say that I am?”  Jesus asked, looking each disciple square in the eyes. 
            Well, all I can say at this point is - you have got to love Peter.  Whereas James or Andrew might have thought a bit more about how to phrase their response to such a probing question, Peter just blurts it out.  Have mouth, will travel. 
            “You are the Christ,” he replies emphatically.  Wow!  When you think about his words, it is really an astounding statement that Peter has made.  You see, up to this point, Jesus has really done nothing at all that could have been construed as at all Christ-like by ancient Jewish standards.  His presence had initiated no substantive transformation of Jewish society.     
            But here was Peter calling him “divinely authorized,” the “anointed one.” And what Peter meant was that Jesus was that king, that human king who had received God’s stamp of approval and so would one day restore the nation of Israel and with it all her people – no more Rome, no more oppression. 
            As Lutheran pastor, David Lose, wrote, what Peter was implying was this: ‘Jesus, I think you're the one who will purify our society, reestablish Israel's supremacy among the nations, and usher in a new era of peace and holiness. I'm expecting big things from you."
            “You are the Christ,” Peter confessed and proclaimed.  And Peter is absolutely correct in his rapid-fire answer.  Usually the blundering dunderhead, the one who never quite gets it right, for once, Peter is on target.  He is the hero! 
            But not for long!  He is only the hero for a couple of verses really.  You see, in another way, Peter is only partly right.  Jesus is the Messiah.  That is true, but there is more.
            It is only a partial truth that Peter delivers in his confession, and a partial truth should never be substituted for the whole truth.  And so it is at this point that Jesus lays it on the line and tells his disciples what it means to be the Christ, what God intends for the “divinely authorized one, “anointed one”, to be.  It is not a pretty, and it is nothing like what Peter – or the others, for that matter - expected.
            Suffering? Rejection? Death? Hold on there!  Wait a minute!  Did Jesus not understand what Peter meant? Was Jesus not paying attention?  As one blogger wrote, “Jesus dying? What would that accomplish? It sounded like foolish talk to (Peter).  Jesus was young, vital, compelling, popular, if somewhat polarizing as a figure. Surely there was much yet to be accomplished! Death couldn’t factor into the plan anywhere, certainly not anytime soon! Jesus’ “career potential”—what would happen if His life were abruptly cut short? Everything would be lost!”  (Joshua Victor blog) “The Christ,” Peter had declared.  “You are the Christ.”
           As Lutheran pastor, David Lose, writes, “Peter, you see, wants and needs a strong God. Like so many of his day, he's looking for a descendant of mighty king David to come and overthrow Roman rule and restore Israel to it's rightful place among the nations. Jesus has to be that person. After all, he's already brought relief, comfort, healing, and life. So what's all this talk about suffering and death?  Peter wants a strong God...and who can blame him?  (After all, life is pretty miserable for Jews in the ancient Roman Empire.)…Good thing Peter is there to straighten (Jesus) out and show him the path the Christ is supposed to follow.”
            But though Peter may get the title right, he gets the meaning all wrong.  “Get out of my way, Satan.”
            And in the words that follow his equally rapid-fire rejoinder, Jesus recasts for all who will listen just what the Messiah will be. “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”  
            Jesus is the Messiah, the king, that is true, but not in the way anyone  - and least of all Peter - would have expected.  It is like the story of a man living in London during the Second World War.  Every night German planes dropped countless bombs on the city.  Buildings burst into flames (as) sirens wailed incessantly, (and) entire blocks were reduced to rubble.  One day this Londoner was sitting in the wreckage of his home.  The walls remained, but the roof was gone.
            The man was near despair.  His home ruined, his city devastated, his country under attack.  Then out of nowhere, these thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
            The man opened the door and was shocked to see a small regal figure.  It was the king!  King George VI, who was touring the war-damaged neighborhood and had stopped at that particular house.  The startled man welcomed the King of England into what was left of his home.
            That is not what we expect of kings, but Jesus is a king like that – coming into our lives when they are in ruins, breaking into our hearts when we least expect him.  However, just as with Peter’s confession, that is only part of the truth. 
             If you think the main reason Jesus comes is to take away your troubles, to fix everything in an hour on Sunday morning, to solve all your problems, then you will be deeply disappointed, especially when you read this Gospel of Mark.  You see, the perspective of this particular Gospel, the take of this author on the life of Jesus centers on discipleship, radical discipleship.  This Gospel is about how we respond as followers to the message that Jesus both preaches and lives.
            The point of this Gospel of Mark is following – and its message is for losers.  Presbyterian seminary professor, J.C. Austin puts it this way:  Being a follower is not something we encourage in America.  No college commencement speaker has ever congratulated the graduates on becoming the "followers of tomorrow."  Nobody makes sweeping biographical history films about great world followers.  Nobody gives awards to recognize the contributions of community followers.  Nobody frames their résumé to highlight where they exercised strong "followership" in their work.  Nobody's heart swells with pride when a fellow parent comes up to them and says, "You know, your kid is a real follower."…In fact, when "following" comes up at all, it's usually negative.  Don't be a follower, be a leader.  Don't follow the crowd.  Being a follower is weak and passive.  It is for people who can't think or act for themselves.  Being a follower is for losers.”
            But with Jesus, well….Do you really want to know who this Jesus is?  Then follow him.  Do you really want to know what it means to live in the light of God’s anointed one?  Then follow him. 
            Follow him into the soup kitchen.  Follow him into the state legislature.  Follow him into the halls of Congress.  Follow him into Haiti where thousands are still homeless – and now forgotten - after the earthquake how many years ago. 
            Follow him out of this church building and into the streets, into mission, into outreach.  Follow him by truly participating in the kingdom of peace and justice – both economic and social - he proclaims and by doing the work that he calls us to do in his name.
            “Who do you say that I am?”  I am the hungry child.  I am the uninsured mother.   I am the old man no one visits.  I am the soldier who fights in wars that should never be fought.  I am the refugee fleeing the car bombs.  I am the oppressed.  I am the marginalized. 
             "Who do you say that I am?” Like this story we read, it is a pivotal question.  It is the hinge point on which our faith depends.  And, in the end, it is a question that I cannot answer for you.  Oh, I can help you when you decide to try to figure out the answer, and this faith community can support you when you decide to live out your answer, but I cannot answer it for you.
            “Who do you say that I am?”  That is between you and Jesus.
           
           

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