2 Lent (B)

St. Mark's and St. James

In most Episcopal churches we use a lectionary for our Sunday readings—we are using the lectionary in the Book of Common Prayer. In fact, today’s readings are listed at the bottom of page 902 in your prayer books. The readings for the weeks and months ahead are all there.

There’s also a lectionary called the Revised Common Lectionary, which many Episcopal churches use, and it is also used by the Roman Catholic church, the Evangelical Lutheran church, the Missouri Synod Lutherans, the Presbyterians, and many others.

For some of you who have come to the Episcopal Church from another tradition, this may seem very rigid, and quite a strange idea, but there are many advantages, I think. I appreciate that there are selected readings, that I don’t have to come up with ideas on my own—who knows where that would lead us! The 3 year lectionary moves fairly systematically through the 3 synoptic gospels, with John’s gospel sprinkled in (and in fact we hear from John next week); we are in Year B which focuses on the Gospel according to St. Mark. And on any given Sunday I could preach on the Old Testament reading, or the Psalm, or the Epistle, or the Gospel, or any combination of the above, because they are meant to tie together somewhat. The lectionary is also tied to the seasons. In Advent we hear about the Coming One, both the baby in the manger, and the one who will come and rule the world. In Epiphany, Jesus is gradually revealed as Son of God, Son of Man, Messiah. Readings in Lent tend to focus our attention on self-denial, on preparation for the suffering and death of our Lord, and what is required of us as his disciples.

But one big disadvantage is that readings don’t always flow in sequence. In Epiphany we did work systematically through the 1st chapter of Mark, but then two weeks ago we jumped ahead to the Transfiguration in chapter 9. And last week we were back in chapter one, revisiting Jesus’ baptism and temptation, and today we are in chapter 8. I might suggest that, since this year we are focused on Mark, you sit down and read it in one sitting—it won’t take much more than an hour—in order to get the feel and the flow of Mark. Perhaps a good Lenten discipline.

Now, if you were here two weeks ago when we looked at the transfiguration, I tried to put it in context by looking back at chapter 8—I had a seminary professor who always, always said that Context is King. It’s hard to understand what is going on when you lift a few verses out of context. We need to know what’s gone on before for things to make sense.

And the lectionary certainly doesn’t do that very well. In fact, there’s no way that we can know what happened just before today’s Gospel reading. But what just happened is a big deal. Jesus asked the disciples who they think he is, and after kicking around a few ideas, Peter puts their hopes into words: You are the Messiah, the Christ, the promised one! And then, Peter and the disciples were rebuked, warned not to tell anyone! I think this is because they didn’t have the right understanding of the Messiah. They believed that “the Messiah would be a royal figure, the offspring of David, whom God would empower to deliver Israel from her foes.”[1] He would be a triumphant and wise king, a victorious conqueror. I’m sure the disciples had visions of triumph and majesty that clouded their understanding—and great dreams that they themselves would be a part of it all. But this triumphant king was not quite the Messiah they got, and they certainly didn’t understand it all until after Jesus died and rose again.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. After rebuking Peter, we come to today’s reading where Jesus began to explain that the Messiah, the Son of Man, isn’t a conquering king, but that he must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the powers that be, and that he would be killed, and then after 3 days he would rise again. And our beloved and outspoken Peter would have none of this. And I’m sure he didn’t even hear the part about rising again. The Messiah would suffer and die!? What an offensive idea! This doesn’t have to be! The picture of Messiah on the one hand, and the picture of his suffering and death on the other, were incompatible, irreconcilable. This can’t be! It’s like saying that the sky is down and the earth is up. The sun rises in the west. There’s no way this is going to happen, not if Peter can help it. So Peter told him that, that it doesn’t have to be this way. And Jesus rebuked Peter, one of his closest friends, for setting his mind on human things, on having things his way. Jesus must go to Jerusalem, he must suffer and die and rise again. The same Spirit that drove him into the wilderness to be tempted in last week’s reading now drives him towards his destiny.

After rebuking Peter, Jesus called the crowd and his disciples: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” I’m surprised he had any disciples left after this!! Deny themselves, and follow, well they had done that. After all, they had left their lives and their livelihood to follow this teacher. But to take up the cross, that was another thing entirely. The cross was the Roman instrument of capital punishment. The cross was a symbol of oppression and tyranny. The cross was extremely painful torture. And, ultimately, the cross was death. Who wants that? Jesus appeals to their desire to save their own lives as justification for this cross-bearing: in order to save your life you must lose it, and those who lose their lives will find life. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world if they lose their lives? What are their lives, anyway? What can they give in return for their life—but their life. Jesus concludes by warning that those who are ashamed Jesus, of them the Son of man will be ashamed when he comes in judgment. So the better part of wisdom would suggest that it’s better to follow him.

There is a cost to discipleship. If we are to follow Jesus, if we are to be his disciples, we are to deny ourselves, and take up our cross, and follow. To deny ourselves is not just giving up something for Lent. It’s not self-discipline. To deny ourselves is to say “Yes” to God and “NO” to ourselves. It is to disown ourselves, to renounce our right to do things our way. It’s taking our sinful passions and desires and nailing them to the cross. It is to live no longer for ourselves, but for Christ, who died for us and was raised for us (2 Cor 5:15) . What is it that keeps you from giving your life over to God? What are you holding on to? That is what you must nail to the cross.

To take up our cross is to live lives of self-sacrifice, to lay down our lives for each other. It means being willing to suffer, to be shamed, to be rejected as fools for following Jesus. The cross is not a fashion accessory. It’s not some physical affliction, or troublesome family member. It’s not the skeletons in your closet—we all have them. It’s not catastrophe. “The cross represents the oppression caused by humans who oppose the faith and witness of Christians.”[2] It’s about being more concerned for the other than we are for ourselves. To be a disciple, to deny ourselves and take up the cross and follow Christ is a strong challenge and a high calling. It’s not easy or comfortable to be a disciple. And we can’t do it on our own. We can’t do it on our own, but we can do it with Christ’s help. But even so, to be a disciple is a costly proposition.

But what are the costs of not being a disciple, of not following Christ, of not denying ourselves and picking up the cross and following Jesus? Dallas Willard puts it this way:

Nondiscipleship costs abiding peace, a life penetrated throughout by love, faith that sees everything in the light of God’s overriding governance for good, hopefulness that stands firm in the most discouraging of circumstances, power to do what is right and withstand the forces of evil. In short, it costs exactly that abundance of life Jesus said he came to bring (John 10:10). The cross-shaped yoke of Christ is after all an instrument of liberation and power to those who live in it with him and learn the meekness and lowliness of heart that brings rest to the soul.[3]

Peter and the others chose the path of discipleship. And we too have a choice: the challenge of discipleship and all its costly demands, or non-discipleship which ultimately costs us our lives. What will it profit us to gain the whole world, and lose our lives? Amen.
[1] Garland, David E. The NIV Application Commentary: Mark. Zondervan, p. 323.
[2] Ibid, 334-5.
[3] Willard, Dallas. The Spirit of the Disciplines: Understanding how God Changes Lives. San Francisco: HarperCollins, 1988, p.263.