Following Jesus [Lent 2B - Mark 8:31-38]

 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Mark 8:31-38

 

Following Jesus

St. Thomas’ Pakistani Episcopal Church

 

Jesus was not oblivious.  He was well aware of the excitement that followed him – a blossoming expectation that threatened full bloom.  The conversation in today’s Gospel passage follows on the heels of a miraculous banquet, the feeding of four thousand people, in the desert, with just a few loaves and fish.  Not long after the leftovers were cleared and collected, Jesus performed the stunning healing of a blind man.  Jesus was doing miracles.  And miracles make people talk and ask questions and even hope.

 

The disciples were not immune to the contagious excitement.  They could feel it; they were in it.  They witnessed so many miracles with Jesus, and by Jesus, that the sheer quantity could make the miraculous feel almost mundane.  They watched as Jesus’ words captured large crowds; his love transformed lives.  His gravity collected what was becoming a movement.  And a movement could mean a Messiah.

 

Before the talk of the cross, that was the talk.  Jesus said to his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?”  And Peter got it right: “You are the Messiah.”  And the evidence backed the bold claim up.

 

But then, as we see in our Gospel reading, Jesus steers the conversation, rather abruptly, toward the cross.  And his devoted listeners are confounded.  And then things got tense.

 

I suspect Peter wasn’t the only disciple who felt the urge to interject and interrupt.  He was just the first to speak up.  And so he bore the brunt.  He is branded, in this Gospel passage, with a most undesirable nickname, THE most undesirable nickname.  No one wants to hear Jesus call them “Satan” – especially not in front of their friends.

 

Peter doesn’t get it.  We know, in retrospect, on this side of Easter, that he was in the wrong.  But perhaps we should be gentle with Peter; Peter rebuked, I think, because he cared.  Jesus seemed to be in a pretty dark place; it is not unusual for friends to try to cheer up friends.  Peter just wanted to nudge Jesus into a happier place, a more optimistic place.  At that moment in the ministry, things were actually good.  People, most of the people at least, seemed to really admire Jesus.  He was a local celebrity – but for good reasons.  He made lives better; he was making the world a better, more humane place.  Peter didn’t think it was an appropriate time to talk about suffering and death, to bring down the mood, to dampen the excitement.  From Peter’s perspective, the trajectory was so much higher than Jesus was willing to admit in that bleak moment.

 

And on a personal note: Peter loved Jesus.  He left everything in the world to follow Jesus – expecting the end game to be considerably better than death on a cross.  He wanted better for himself, of course, but he also wanted better for Jesus.  Because Jesus was special.  And we want the special people in our lives to reach their fullest potential.  We certainly do not want our loved ones to suffer or to come to a terrible end.

 

Peter was trying to be nice, to be a friend.  His intentions were good.  He very probably thought he was being helpful, doing the right thing.  And so Jesus’ response to Peter must have stung tremendously. 

 

Peter’s intentions might have been good, but his words were dishonest.  And that is the issue.  The temptation that Peter laid before Jesus was not the allure of a life of luxury, of fame or fortune.  The temptation was to imagine that life could be something other than what it has to be: mortal. 

 

There is no way to be human without experiencing pain and death.  But, deep down in our bones, we wish there was.  Never has this been more obvious than in this moment of human history.  Entire industries are built on numbing pain, eluding suffering, and resisting the gravity of death.  No one wants to hurt; no one wants to fall apart.  Jesus was God, we know, but also he was fully human.  And so the Son of Man was no stranger to the persistent whispers and pangs of mortality.  His desperate prayers in Gethsemane are proof.    

 

And Jesus knew, all too well, that his messianic ministry would cause him to suffer pain beyond what the typical human experiences.  His ministry would face tremendous resistance and invite terrible violence.  He witnessed the cost of gospel work in the fate of the one who baptized him.  And Jesus’ work would push the scandalous message far beyond the banks of the Jordan.

 

What Jesus understood, and Peter and the disciples could not, was that not everyone wants a Messiah; not everyone wants to be saved.  Or even thinks they need to be saved.  The Gospel does not sound like good news to every ear.  Empires founded on injustice are threatened by justice.  The ones who use fear and terror to hold onto power despise mercy.  Those who capitalize on strife and division are afraid of love.  Powerful people who rule with violence are enemies with peace.  Jesus’ very presence in the world shook the foundations of a corrupt society of sinful people.  Jesus opened his arms to the world and the world nailed those arms to a cross.

 

Perhaps more distressing than rebuke, was Peter’s realization that Jesus’ painful path would be his own.  And that followers of Jesus will always wield a subversive message and live life out of sync.  Followers of Jesus are required to pledge their allegiance to a kingdom that is decidedly at odds with the kingdoms of this world.  When we truly follow Jesus, when we walk with the cross before our eyes, when we allow ourselves to be guided by Kingdom of God values, we will inevitably court heartbreak.  (Some of you have experienced that heartbreak.) And that will be hard.  We might not literally die on a cross, but we will pay a cost.

 

And will face a temptation; the temptation will be to find easier ways through this world, detours around the cross.  The temptation is to go along to get along, to ignore violence and justify injustice and excuse the little, persistent ways in which this world chips away at human dignity.  But Jesus does not call us to easy; he calls us to courage, to take up the cross and follow him, to take the lumps of true Christian love. 

 

To do so, one must possess a great belief in the triumph of goodness, a deep faith in resurrection hope, a heart forged in the Easter miracle.  To walk in the direction of death, one must believe that there is life just beyond the horizon – always and eternally.

 

Twelve and a half years ago, as we basked in the afterglow, after birth, new parents for the first time, my wife and I talked about the immense experience of the day.  How excruciating it was and how beautiful too.  And my wife said, “At some point I just had to stop resisting the pain and realize that I might die.  And when I let go, he was born.”  And somehow that is always true.  Somehow that is the Gospel.  Salvation is buried in the pain; true life exists in the midst of the dying.  We are confronted with the realities of Good Friday every year and still are irresistibly lured by the call of Jesus.  And by the promise that those who lose their life for the sake of the Gospel will save it.