A sermon preached at Old South Congregational Church, United Church of Christ, Hallowell, Maine, September 13, 2009.
Text: Mark 8:27-38
For those of you who are regular church-goers, today’s scripture passage may not only seem familiar, but oddly placed. Perhaps you found yourself listening to the lesson just now and your brain might have been saying something like, “Hey, wait, I know the seasons are starting to change, but could they have changed that fast, that quickly? Hey, what happened? What are we doing in Lent?”
Today’s scripture passage on which we focus is indeed one that is typically used during Lent, when we consider more carefully and conscientiously what and who Jesus is and where he is leading us, what it means to follow him, when we set out on that journey with Jesus as he moves toward Jerusalem, his rejection, trial, and execution.
So, what are we doing with this passage now, in the middle of September? Well, far be it for me to question the wisdom of the revised lectionary committee. But, when I saw this passage and read through it and thought about it, letting it rattle around in my head for a few days, I realized that it draws us into a place where I believe we should spend some time this fall. We begin today a focus on a subject that we will re-visit on many Sundays and in other places too—committees and other kinds of gatherings—during this fall and very likely well beyond that. This passage serves as a wonderful way of providing a scriptural underpinning to what I’d like us to be thinking about this fall, in a particularly mindful and prayerful way.
Today, we’ll spend some time, with this passage, laying some of the groundwork for a very important conversation, a conversation that will happen here at Old South and as well, in our Kennebec Valley Association of the United Church of Christ churches and committees and, perhaps, even in the Maine Conference as a whole, eventually.
When we read this familiar passage from Mark, we find ourselves faced with some stark imagery and questions, questions that were just as important in the first century as they are to us now at the beginning of the twenty-first century. But, let’s remind ourselves of where this passage exists in the Gospel, what has led up to this moment of confrontation between Jesus and Peter and a revelation of what it means to follow.
Today’s story happens geographically just outside Caesarea Philippi, a village 25 miles north of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus is walking with his disciples when he asks them what the people are saying about him. It’s an interesting question, for Jesus to be asking. It’s interesting that he is wondering about the scuttlebutt, what’s being said about him around the various towns in which they have been traveling. What are they saying in the marketplace, at the local hangout, in the church kitchen. What are they saying about me, Jesus wants to know. By this time in Mark’s story, the disciples have been with Jesus for some time and have seen him cure the sick and lame, cast out demons, feed literally thousands of people, even restore life to a young girl. Little wonder, then, that Jesus might ask what the crowds thought of all this. And the disciples do not disappoint, reporting that the crowds recognize that Jesus is clearly a prophet, a holy man of God.
Then, Jesus gets to what seems to be his real question, his real concern, asking the disciples themselves, directly, “But who do you say that I am?” And, again, the disciples come through, one disciple in particular, as Peter declares that Jesus isn’t just a prophet but is actually the long-awaited Messiah, the one anointed by God to save all of Israel.
Now, we’ll never know whether that confession had been brewing in Peter for some time and only needed Jesus’ question to bring it forth or whether it came to him in the flash of divinely guided insight. But it’s not hard to imagine that making that confession had to be one of the best moments in Peter’s life. For there’s something indescribably wonderful about recognizing and participating in a truth bigger than yourself, about naming truth in a way that somehow makes it more true in your own experience and not just knowing it and feeling it in your own heart, but saying it, boldly declaring it, as if you are ready to shout it from the rooftops. It’s hard to imagine that Peter was having anything other than that kind of experience—a true and amazing epiphany. [The preceding three paragraphs are from “The Heartbreaking Messiah,” by the Rev. Dr. David Lose, found at www.day1.org]
And, can’t you just imagine, then, that Peter is looking for a little pat on the back, a little “hey all this time I wasn’t so sure about you, but you’re alright, you’re pretty smart, you’ve been paying attention. Good for you, Peter! Great job, good and loyal friend and follower.” But, he doesn’t get that—he doesn’t even remotely get that.
Instead, he—along with the other disciples—is told not to tell anyone. And, then Jesus launches into his teachings regarding what is going to happen to him—that he will suffer, be rejected, by no less than the chief priests and the scribes, and finally be killed. But, after that, and after three days, he will rise again. The rising part probably didn’t come through so well after the teachings on suffering, rejection and being killed.
Jesus says all of these things quite openly, Mark tells us. But, then Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. Who could blame Peter, really? He’s just had this great moment of clarity and epiphany. He’s not only figured out that this is the Messiah, but he declares this to be so, boldly and confidently. How could Jesus first, tell him not to tell anyone and now tell him about suffering, rejection and death? Peter just had a moment, a moment when everything not only came together, but everything was wonderful, and now Jesus is talking about death. Who could blame Peter for not taking it all so well?
And, as Peter rebukes him, Jesus rebukes right back accusing Peter of setting his mind on worldly things and not divine things and then going on to gather the crowd with his disciples and to try to teach of discipleship, about following: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”
When we focus on this passage, on this teaching of Jesus, during Lent, we often use it to consider our own personal behavior, how we as individuals follow Jesus, how we live out and stay connected to our faith, how we individually take up our own crosses and try to keep our mind on divine things, rather than worldly things.
But, today, I want to think about this passage in a different way. I’d like us to think about this passage in a corporate way, as a church, as a church of Jesus Christ, as a church of Christ followers. What does it mean to follow, not simply as individuals, but as a church, as a group? What does it mean for us, as a church, to take up our cross and to set our common mind on divine things rather than worldly things?
And, as a group, how do we hear the very stern statement, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”
This fall, and perhaps into the future beyond this season of cooling temperatures and shortening of days, we will focus on what it means to be followers and on what it means to be the church. And, we will consider what it means to be the church, to gather in this particular place, in this building—and in the building next door—in aging structures that need more renovation than we can afford and in the midst of our own very real struggles to grow in numbers, but maybe, just maybe, that our inability to grow substantially may have something to do with the fact that we exist in a shrinking community—a community that is smaller than it was twenty/thirty years ago.
What does it mean to follow, when more and more of our offerings go to keeping these buildings, these structures, heated and electrified, plowed and shoveled in the winter, and an office with the trappings of this modern life, that I will admit, that, sadly, we really cannot live without—a copier, internet access, and a computer (which we have done without, now, for over a month—and that has not been a good thing).
We will spend some time this fall in starting an important, but difficult, conversation about what it means to be the church, now, in this time and place, and as well to consider how we are setting our minds on divine things, while also trying to ensure this church’s path, as well as other church’s with whom we are related in this part of the world, into the future. Take a good look around this sanctuary. Not a lot of people here under the age of forty. And, our church school continues to struggle with enrollment as well.
Certainly, there are things we can do to inspire others to join us in following this Christ, on whom we rely in our lives for purpose and meaning. But, what if our ability to do that is seriously hampered by the fact that the cities and towns in this part of the world are mostly getting smaller?
I’ve been working on a paper that I intend on sharing with some committees here at Old South and with other churches in our Association that asserts the following: a. We (by “we,” I mean the UCC churches in Central Maine) exist in church buildings that are aging and that require more and more financial resources for maintenance and renovation, basically requiring that our churches grow substantially in terms of members and members who can support those financial needs, and b. We live in a part of the world that is, mostly, getting smaller, shrinking that pool of potential new members.
I believe that to follow our Savior, to take up our own cross, and to set our minds on divine things is to take seriously, prayerfully and faithfully, the reality in which we live. At Old South, things are going pretty well, considering, but some of our sisters and brothers in faith are struggling, really struggling, with how to be the church, to maintain aging structures and to keep a minister. One of the churches in our Association is literally faced with a decision of whether to keep the church or the minister.
Can we, those of us who gather in this place, surrounded by these companions and friends, find it in our hearts to seek to provide some leadership around these important issues. Where is our Savior leading us, in this gathering of God’s people and in our larger gathering as churches in Association with each other? What will the church look like in fifty years? Will our children and grandchildren look back to this time with gratitude for what we were able to do to secure a positive future, or will they look back, shaking their heads, wondering why we didn’t do more to make sure that our voice, our belief in Christ’s call of hospitality to all people, would still be viable in their time?
We face a reality that many of us would prefer not to face. Many of us remember when the church was the center of community life, when Sunday Schools were full of children, when youth groups were active. Many of us remember. But, many of us who have those memories are also constrained by those memories.
Those memories tempt us to think that if only we did just the right thing, we could re-create that past. If only we put up the right kind of signs. If only we enacted the right kind of program. If only we were more visibly conservative, or more liberal. If only we hired the right kind of minister. Then, we could be what we once were.
But, that’s just not how it works. And, by allowing ourselves to be trapped by that temptation, we are focused on worldly things and not on divine things.
So, this fall, we will begin a journey together to think, to pray, and to wonder together, to consider how our Savior is calling us and how well we are following. We will set out to renew our focus on divine things, putting those worldly things in their place. We will endeavor not to hide from the reality that we face, but to live in the assurance of God’s great and steadfast love for us and to know that there are opportunities here, if only we can accept the grace, the wisdom and the courage to live in the midst of those opportunities.
Taking up the cross and following is not easy (it never has been), nor should we hope that it will be. But, to follow, to live fully in the midst of our faith, is to know that in the most difficult of places, is where we find life and love: “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake,” Jesus says, “and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”
Save it indeed. Praise be to God. Amen.