Sermon for Communion Sunday.
The second in my Lent series 'The kin-dom of heaven: living as God's community'
Last week we explored being a covenanted community; this week we reflect on picking up our cross, and being a cross-carrying community.
1st READING: Romans 4:13-25
2nd READING: Mark 8:27-38
SERMON ‘A
Cross-carrying community’
Let’s
pray:
may
the words of my mouth, and the meditations of all our
hearts be acceptable in
your sight,
O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
It
was all so upside-down.
Madness.
There’d
been miracles:
healings,
the
feeding of multitudes.
Surely,
surely these were signs
that
God was with them.
People
everywhere had heard of him -
were
speaking of him,
were speculating about him.
Who
was he,
this
wandering rabbi
performing
wondrous deeds?
‘Who
do you say I am?’
he’d
asked his closest followers.
And,
in a moment of startled insight,
Peter
found himself uttering words that generation after generation
had
yearned for, had longed for:
‘You are the Christ.’
Four
little words,
weighed
down by a myriad of hopes
and
expectations,
and
chief among these: liberation.
Liberation
from illness,
from
hunger...
and
indeed, Jesus had shown
his
credentials there,
but
beyond these,
a
liberation from the yoke of oppressive empire
that
echoed down through centuries
of
having been in thrall to other empires:
Egypt
Persia
Babylon,
and
latterly, Rome.
‘You
are the Christ’ expressed the hope
for
a new David -
a
deliverer anointed by God
to
free the Jewish nation from
the
tyranny of Rome,
a
deliverer who would visit God’s judgement upon those who would dare to
crush
his chosen ones;
‘You are the Christ’ came with expectations
of
a warrior Messiah,
who
would avenge the wrongs done to Israel
and
restore Israel to her former glory;
who
would resurrect national pride from the gutters of inglorious, humiliating
subjugation,
and
cause other nations to humble themselves and bow down -
to
pay homage.
But...
it
was all so upside-down.
Madness.
‘You
are the Christ.’
Four
little words that are immediately seized upon by Jesus
to
teach those closest to him
just
what it is to be the Christ.
What
follows is plain speaking -
blunt
talk.
In
no uncertain terms,
the
disciples are disabused of any notions
of
glory they may have had when thinking of
the
nature of Messiahship.
No
amazing escape across a miraculously
dried
sea-bed,
no
joyous return from exile,
no
heroic, battle-hardened warrior leading
God’s
people to victory over Rome.
Jesus’
description of Messiahship
is
completely counter-cultural,
and
utterly shocking:
a
Messiah rejected -
a
Messiah...killed.
And
Peter is unnerved by this teaching,
so
much so that he pulls Jesus aside
and
rebukes him -
because
suffering and dying Messiahs
make
absolutely no earthly sense at all.
Which
is exactly what Jesus picks Peter up on when he says:
‘you
do not have in mind the things of God,
but
the things of men.’
Quite
a turnaround for Peter:
from profound insight to utter confusion.
from profound insight to utter confusion.
From
‘you’re the Messiah’ to
‘but
not that kind of Messiah!’
But
it gets more alarming:
there’s
talk of picking up one’s cross -
not
only does the Messiah suffer,
so
too, do his disciples.
No
power, no prestige:
rather,
a call to put aside personal gain;
a
call to a very different kind of faith -
a
faith not built upon material symbols
of
earthly success,
but
grounded in the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that
were not.
It was all so upside-down.
Madness.
It still
is,
in
the eyes of the world.
To
deny self,
to
deny gain, fame,
...to
let go of our preconceptions of success
and
of what we think a Messiah should be:
to
choose, instead, a very different way
of being.
But
we don’t do it alone -
as
followers of the Christ -
as
Christ’s body here on earth -
we
are called communally to pick up,
and
carry our cross -
we
are a cross-carrying community.
Nourished,
strengthened,
and
sustained by the One we follow,
and
at whose table we feast,
we
are called to give of ourselves - to God -
and
to others.
To
be real, authentic:
understanding
that to be fully human
is
to allow ourselves to be vulnerable,
to
open ourselves up to the possibility
of
pain and of hurt
just
as God, in Christ did.
...To
follow, in faith,
is
to love sacrificially:
love
our friends, yes,
but
love our enemies as well -
to
seek ways of reconciliation.
To
pick up one’s cross and follow in faith
is
to call out political expediency
which
relies on scapegoating those who are the most vulnerable in society
in
order to gain votes in a ballot box;
to
engage in society,
to
question the growing gap between
rich
and poor;
to
uncover and challenge abuse of power -
on
a grand scale -
and,
at the domestic level.
To
pick up one’s cross,
in
the words of Archbishop Oscar Romero, is to:
enter
‘into the reality of a child,
of
the poor,
of
those wearing rags,
of
the sick,
of
a hovel, ....of a shack.
It
is going to share with them.
And
from the very heart of misery,
of
this situation,
...
to say to them,
“You
aren’t trash.
You
aren’t marginalized.”
It
is to say exactly the opposite,
“You are valuable.”
For
Romero, picking up his cross
and
walking in faith
challenging
oppression
and
speaking out on behalf of the poor
in
El Salvador resulted in his assassination in the middle of worship.
As
a cross-carrying community,
we
are not called to look the other way
when
we see others hurt,
we’re
called to get involved,
just
as God, through the incarnation,
got
involved with the whole human race.
It
was all so upside-down.
Madness.
Returning
to the conversation between
Jesus
and his disciples for a moment:
In
the midst of all this odd talk,
this
overturning of cherished
definitions
of Messiah,
it’s
interesting that one quite significant detail appears to get lost:
so
shocked are the disciples,
that
they seem to miss
what
Jesus says immediately after he’s
told them that he’ll be rejected, suffer, and be killed:
they
miss the bit about
‘and
after three days, rise again’.
As
we pick up our crosses,
we
discover that in the very act of giving our lives - through sanctified love of
God and neighbour -
we
discover what it is to truly live;
that
in giving,
we
discover that we truly receive.
As
we walk towards Jerusalem
over
the course of this Lenten season,
nourished
and strengthened for the journey
by
the bread and wine of communion:
let
us pick up our crosses,
walk
in faith,
walk
with our brother Jesus,
‘in
paths of love and justice.’
For
this is the way of the
upside-down
kin-dom of God -
the
community of faith.
Madness,
perhaps,
but
a life-giving,
love-giving
madness
that
chooses to give glory to God,
being
fully persuaded
that
God has the power
to
do what he has promised.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment