|
Another day, another sermon. This one on Matthew 16:21-28, and Romans 12:9-21. It's not one of my favourites...I think I tried to write three or four sermons, and ended up writing one rather fuddling sermon. Oh, well. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. "Get behind me, Satan�you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." I always used to think that this was a rather cruel and harsh thing for Jesus to say. After all, Peter was only expressing his attachment and love for his Lord, a Lord he did not want to see killed. If you found out that your best friend was going to be brutally murdered you'd probably say the same thing � "God forbid it! This must never happen to you!" In fact we often say something much like that. When someone makes a morbid joke about their own death, we're likely to say "Don't talk like that!" But, of course, Jesus wasn't telling a joke � he was trying to prepare his followers, his church, for what was about to happen. Further, he was trying to prepare them, and us, to continue following him after it happened, when all hope seemed lost and the very idea of following was unimaginable. In the face of Our Lord's death on the cross, the apparent failure of his ministry, we are called to follow even then. "Get behind me, Satan!" Behind is, after all, the proper place for someone who is following. Peter is told to get behind Jesus, to remove the obstacle of his earthly concerns and once back there to follow � and so are we. Peter, remember, is often our stand-in, our emotional stunt-double, within the gospel narrative. Jesus is telling us, through Peter, to remove our own agendas and to follow him, even to the cross. This becomes more apparent when we place today's gospel passage in context. We began today with the words, "From that time on." It was "from that time on" that Jesus told his disciples about the impending crucifixion. But what time is that? Just before this passage we find Peter's famous and pivotal confession, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God." In response Our Lord calls Peter the rock on which he will build his church. We may disagree with our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters about whether or not this foundational status can be transferred from Peter to Pope, but there can be no mistaking the intent � Peter is understood as the bedrock of the church, the human foundation. Peter is our representative in the story precisely because we are the church and he is the foundation of the church. So what is Our Lord telling Peter, telling the church, when he says "you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things?" What horrible crime had Peter committed to be called "Satan?" Only this - he wanted to prevent his friend from suffering death, wanted to keep him from harm. Where's the crime in that? Yes, Jesus had told the disciples that he would be raised again, but Peter couldn't stomach even that temporary death. He wanted Christ to lead the world to the Kingdom of God without first having to suffer. He wanted the victory without the defeat. Christ's response is that that's not how things work. At the heart of Christianity lies a contradiction � in order to succeed you must fail. In order to win you must lose. In order to gain everything you must forfeit everything. It's not an idea that sells well, not even in the church and certainly not on Bay Street. It's illogical. The crucifixion event, the topic to which Peter reacted with such horror, provides our best key to unlocking this contradiction. In the first century AD, the setting for Christ's ministry and the writing of the gospels, Rome ruled the ancient world. The entire Mediterranean, as well as all of Europe, was either controlled by the Romans or held at bay by the Romans. As if to drive home this point for all to see, the Jewish uprising of 70 AD was savagely and ruthlessly crushed just a few years before Matthew wrote his gospel. The point was made - there was no defeating Rome by use of weapons. Had Jesus mounted an armed rebellion he might have won a brief victory, as had been done before. But eventually Rome, or some descendant of Rome, would strike back. If human history teaches us anything it's that there is always a Rome. But Our Lord didn't take on the Empire in a military battle. He didn't rally troops and slaughter enemies. That's not the sort of Lord we follow. Victory came not through battle, but from the cross, an instrument of shame and death. By submitting himself to Rome's corporal, bodily punishment, and then making it meaningless through resurrection, Christ defeated the Empire so completely that there is no undoing the victory. Rome, which today takes the shape of modern nations and corporations, will always control the physical, geographical arena we call the "world." In that arena there is no escaping Rome's dominion. What Christ opened for us is the possibility that we might defeat Rome in the arena that really matters, the arena of our minds and souls. We can defeat Rome by treating one another and ourselves as Christ treated us, with unconditional love and unstinting forgiveness. This is the message we hear in Paul's letter to the Romans, to the church that flourished under the very nose of the all-powerful empire that had executed Christ. The first part of today's epistle reading is easy to accept � just about anybody can love their friends, give money to the poor and be hospitable to strangers. The bit about being patient in suffering might be awkward, but really that first bit just describes any upstanding citizen of any empire. But to bless those who persecute you? To associate with the lowly? To never seek revenge? To feed our enemies, to give them something to drink? The sheer number of injunctions, if not the content, is daunting. As we read this passage, if we're really thinking about it, we ought to feel a little overwhelmed � much of what we're being told to do runs counter to conventional wisdom. Bay Street tells us that life is a contest and that we can and should step on other people in our climb toward power and money. Hollywood tells us that famous and financially successful people are the only ones with whom it is worth associating, certainly not the lowly. And Washington D.C. tells us to seek vengeance, to kill our enemies not just after they attack us but before they even think of doing so � a far cry from Paul's instructions, not to mention Christ's example. And what message do we hear from the church? It's telling that Peter, as soon as he is named The Rock, immediately becomes a stumbling stone. That's the literal translation of the Greek, "you are a stumbling stone to me." Even the church, Christ's rock, can get in the way of following Christ. How? By excusing us from real Christian action. We keep our faith safely locked up at church. We visit on Sundays, as if God is an elderly relative in a retirement home and we're stopping by on our way to some real fun somewhere else. We're good Christians, we go to church. But do we truly follow Jesus? Do we follow him into humility or do we deny his suffering and demand only victory, only our way? We become a stumbling stone when we want to avoid the pain of the cross, when we call ourselves Christian and then fail to truly follow Christ. He's a difficult guy to follow. Jesus leads us into situations that feel like defeat, into places that challenge our notion of what it is to succeed. Jesus leads us to the cross, and I can't say that I do a very good job of following him. I like my stuff, my comfortable life. Following Christ, following him all the way to the cross, ought to feel uncomfortable, probably most of the time. To follow Christ as he asks to be followed is not an easy task. It's not something any of us can do without effort. No matter how long and hard we try at it, and I'm sure many people here have been honestly trying for many years, we'll always be just starting. That's part of the beauty of it, really. We're always just beginning the journey. So where do we start? We can start by letting love be genuine, by hating what is evil and holding fast to what is good. We can love one another, outdo one another in showing honour, we can be ardent in spirit and serve the Lord. We can rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering and persevere in prayer. We can contribute to the lives of the saints and extend hospitality to strangers. We can quietly rebel against Rome, against the voice of power and money and comfort, we can challenge ourselves and our society to live up to our nobler instincts, that voice of God that calls out within us. We can get behind Jesus, and start to follow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. |
