Proper 19B, September 16, 2012; The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz
James 3:1-12 From the same mouth come blessing and cursing….this ought not to be so.
Mark 8:27-38 Who do you say that I am?
O God of compassion, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.
Our Gospel lesson this morning finds Jesus and his disciples on their way into what we might call Caesarville. Caesarea Philippi was a seat of political, military and economic power: oppressive, corrupt, and idolatrous. In other words, they were right in the thick of it, on their way. They were, you may remember, called people of The Way. And this episode lies at the exact center of Mark’s gospel – it is Mark’s centerpiece. In ancient literature, this means that it is a very important passage. It is the heart – the core [1] message – the crux, a turning point when Jesus moves from the ministry of healing and feeding into an articulation of the ministry of suffering with – the ministry of compassion – a ministry which will cost everything. This is also a story of how Peter almost didn’t make the turn on the way!
Poor Peter. He reminds me of a great country song, recorded by Mary Chapin Carpenter: “Sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug.” Peter finally gets who Jesus is – the One anointed by God to shine a light on God’s mercy and grace in the world – the Christ – the redeeming urge of God. And in the next breath he is rebuking Jesus – either rejecting the suffering that Jesus predicts or freaking out because Jesus is speaking about it so openly (we don’t know which). Perhaps Peter had figured that if someone is anointed by God, surely that person would be saved from suffering, or at least that anointed person should attempt to avoid magnifying the danger of death by talking openly. The word rebuke here is the same word that gets used to describe casting out demons, the work Jesus and his disciples have been doing along the way. So maybe the writer of Mark is telling us that Peter thinks that Jesus might not be in his right mind.
And who could blame Peter? Isn’t that still the way many people think of being in God’s good graces? Playing it safe – trying to stay secure? And don’t some of us behave as if we are kind of dating God? “…always on our best behavior, never angry or indiscreet [with God], and ever attentive and respectful; but at some time we need to quit dating God and begin working on a serious relationship.” [2]
Jesus orders his disciples over and over not to tell things – not to tell about healings, not to tell about exorcisms, not to tell that they understand Jesus to be the Messiah. I’ve never really felt like I had a good handle on why that might have been. I definitely don’t see it as Jesus being overly concerned about safety. Perhaps it was that he wanted to prolong the time that he would have to get work done. But with the pairing of this Gospel passage with our recent readings from James, I’m now wondering if it has to do with demonstrating faithfulness with works, rather than with words. I’m wondering if he wanted his disciples to continue to live the discipline of the Good News in their actions, rather than telling it with their voices.
The Letter of James is one of the great proof-texts for uncomfortable Evangelists — Christians who prefer not to talk about what they believe, or who are certain that they do not believe traditional Christian dogma, but who are committed to social justice because of their faith. James tells us that “faith without works is dead,” that faith can be made manifest only by works. Today’s portion is about minding your tongue – keeping your mouth shut! It reminds me of what St. Francis of Assisi is often quoted as having said: “Preach the Gospel at all times. Use words if necessary.”
So perhaps the Gospel of Mark’s question is, “Who do you say that Jesus is when you aren’t using words?”
A few summers ago I was a guest at a dinner party. The hosts pointed out one of the guests across the room and told me that he was a member of a Friends Meeting nearby. I responded that Friends Meeting is where I love to go to church when I’m on vacation. For me it’s such a blissful change from the wordiness of my own tradition. I also love the American Friends’ clear and long-standing commitments to peace and justice. So when I was later introduced to this guest, I said, “I understand that you’re a Quaker.” And before he could reply, his wife said, “yeah, he’s a Quaker except when he’s driving!” (And I can tell by your laughter that some of you know what she meant.) Turns out, it’s very hard to preach the Gospel at all times without using words.
Some of you know about when The Rt. Rev. Geralyn Wolf, Bishop of Rhode Island took a sabbatical. She decided that during her sabbatical she wanted to experience homelessness first hand. So telling only one or two people her plans, and admonishing them to keep silent, she made for herself a phony identification card, changing her first name slightly and adopting her mother’s maiden name. She simply put on some old dirty clothes and beat-up shoes, messed her hair up, put a few things in a small backpack, and began 6-8 weeks of living on the street. She carried no money. She stayed in shelters when she could get in, and ate in soup kitchens and wherever else she could find food.
She visited a number of Episcopal churches. She tried to greet some Episcopal clergy on the streets. She was very hopeful, but it didn’t go well. She experienced a stark and vast difference in the way she was treated, compared with how she was treated when wore her bishop’s clothing and her presence was expected. She traveled to Boston and New York and Philadelphia to see if the problem was only in Rhode Island churches. It wasn’t. At one church that was having a breakfast, they were asking for a $5 contribution. When she explained that she was homeless and did not have $5, she was politely told that they were sorry but she would have to leave.
When I read her book [3] about her sabbatical experience of homelessness, I thought, forget about the possibility of “entertaining angels unawares,” what if the person that I fail to entertain is actually a bishop! (I’m kidding of course, but you get my point.) Seeking and serving Christ in all persons, one of the promises of our baptismal covenant, means all persons. ALL PERSONS.
Who do you say that Jesus is when you aren’t using words? How do you and I honor those who are poor, or sick, or possessed with demons, or in desperate need of forgiveness yet again? How do we demonstrate that we understand that Jesus is Lord and the Good News that mercy trumps judgment every time? How do we live our faith, not by talking about it, not by statements of belief, but through our actions? Denying oneself is not about denying that one has a self, it’s about renouncing self-centeredness. It’s about the idea that self-advancement or even self-preservation cannot be the highest ethic. Taking up your cross means carrying a burden on behalf of another for the love of God.
Mahatma Gandi offered this guidance. He wrote, “I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and weakest [men or women] whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the [next] step you contemplate is going to be of any use to [them]. Will [they] gain anything by it? Will it restore [them] to a control over [their] destiny? In other words, will it lead to [freedom] for the hungry and spiritually starving millions? Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away,” Gandi said. [4]
In our Tuesday morning Bible study this past week, folks reflected on people who had given their lives for the sake of the God’s love. And we acknowledged that we can’t all be a Gandi, or a Harriet Tubman, or a Martin Luther King, Jr. I don’t actually think any of us is called to be either of those people. I think each of us is called to be herself or himself, marvelously made, compassionate and generous in the way we spend our lives.
Once upon a time, the great preacher, Fred Craddock said that for most Christians in this country, living the Gospel is not often a matter of life and death. He said, (to paraphrase): We think giving our all to God would be like taking a $1,000 bill and laying it on the table – “here’s my life, God. I’m giving it all.” But the reality for most of us is that God sends us to the bank and has us cash in the $1,000 for small bills. Then we go through life putting out a dollar here and two dollars there. It’s not so dramatic or glorious – it’s done in those little acts of justice and love, a dollar or two at a time. [5] It will cost everything – this way of compassion – but usually not all at once. As we navigate this way through our own territories marked by political oppression, military corruption and economic idolatry, perhaps the best way to follow Jesus deeper into the extravagant love of God, is one step at a time, one dollar at a time, one day at a time.