I’m going to take a bit of a risk here, at the beginning of my first sermon at the Church of the Holy Trinity. Probably a bad idea, considering, but then again, I was the kid who always ran with the scissors… So, I’m going to start my sermon this morning with a joke.
And I have a particular objective in beginning with a joke, by starting things off with a bit of laughter. In a few moments, Father Paul will remind us that what we do here today is a ‘right and good and joyful thing,’ and that last adjective ‘joyful’ is the one that is too often overlooked. Being part of the body of Christ is and should be a joyful thing. Church should be fun, and filled with smiles and laughter and praise. So, I’m going to kick off my time of service as your shepherd with a little bit of laughter.
So, here goes. When the family got home from church on Sunday, his mother asked little Billy Joe a question, “What did you learn in Sunday School today, Billy Joe?” Little Billy Joe said, “We learned a new song!” “Oh, really,” said his mom, “what was the song about?” Billy Joe said, “It was a song about a bear.” That confused his mother a bit and she asked Billy Joe, “Really? It wasn’t a song about Jesus or Moses or about ‘Peter, James and John going fishing out on the deep blue sea’?” “No, mom,” said Billy Joe, “it was a song about a bear. And the bear was crossed-eyed!” “Cross-eyed!” said his mom, “It’s not nice to call anyone, even a bear, cross-eyed, Billy Joe. I can’t believe you sang a song in Sunday School about a bear that was cross-eyed.” “We did too!” said Billy Joe, “And his name was Gladly!” “Gladly,” said his mother, “What kind of name is Gladly?” “I don’t know,” said Billy Joe, “But that was his name! And that was the name of the song, too! ‘Gladly, The Cross I’d Bear’
That joke was one my dad told me when I was younger, and it always made me laugh, as it still does. But there’s something worth noting about that joke. It’s genesis, or it’s underlying ethos, is what I would really like to talk to you about this morning. Because little Billy Joe’s lack of understanding is one that I think many of us can identify with.
What does it mean to take up our cross and follow Christ?
As many of you will know, the gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John were written some time after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Mark, the earliest gospel, was written sometime around the year 70, we believe. So, some 40-odd years after the execution of Jesus. And those 40-odd years were eventful ones. Many of the earliest followers of Jesus had, during those years, run afoul of the Roman authorities, as well as some of the Jewish authorities in Palestine and elsewhere. There was persecution, and there were executions. Later in Mark’s gospel, Jesus warns his followers that they will be handed over to the councils and synagogues, and will be questioned by governors and kings. (9:9) And even siblings would betray one another, and some of those betrayals almost certainly led to death. (9:13)
So in our gospel reading today, we see Mark describing a time that he and his community suffered through and knew all too well. Mark’s community took up their crosses, at times perhaps literally. Most of us have not and will not be asked to take up our cross in quite the same way. In our place, in our day and time, such is not likely to be our fate. So, the question remains, what does it mean for us to take up our cross?
One misunderstanding, one ‘cross-eyed bear’, that some people take up is to interpret this passage as somehow commending suffering for its own sake. Today’s gospel passage comes at roughly the midway point in the Gospel of Mark. Jesus has spent nearly half of Mark’s gospel alleviating needless suffering or oppression whenever he encounters it. Taking up one’s cross is not about seeking suffering or abuse for its own sake, as if suffering or abuse itself is redemptive or a mark of virtue. Christ’s sacrifice on the cross is redemptive; none other is necessary for our salvation, nor for the world’s salvation. To hear this passage, and to mistake it for instruction to seek out suffering is to take up a cross-eyed bear, not a cross to bear while following Christ. We need to take a longer view, we need to seek a wider vision and a deeper understanding to get at what this passage might mean for us today.
Earlier in our gospel reading today, Peter seems to be wrestling with a cross-eyed bear of his own. Like many of his fellow Jews, Peter was expecting a messiah who would restore Israel to its former glory. A messiah who would reign from a throne, not a cross, and that would conquer the Romans, not a messiah who would conquer death, whatever that might mean. When Jesus begins to speak about the suffering he would undergo, Peter rebukes him. And Jesus rebukes Peter in return. Peter’s aspirations for a messiah, and his hope for his people is not suffering and death, but rather security and triumph. Peter seeks a crown of glory, not a cross. But what Jesus offers Peter and his disciples – and us – is a cross, not a crown. Divine things, not human things. Jesus offers worldly service, not worldly power, not the easy life, but life everlasting.
So, crowns of glory are not meant for us, it seems. But then neither are crosses of undue suffering, though some of our ancestors in the faith did so suffer. What we are to do is to take up our own cross, not a crown, surely and not a cross of undue suffering.
But again we might ask, what is our cross to take up? How are we to follow Christ in our own day? How are we to serve God and God’s people in our own place and time?
I’d like to share with you some words, a prayer, in fact, that say quite a bit about what it is to follow Christ, to serve God and God’s people in our own time. This prayer was written by a Roman Catholic bishop, Ken Untener of Sagniaw, Michigan. Bishop Untener’s prayer was originally written as part of an annual commemoration for priests who had died. But in one of those ‘cross-eyed bear’ misunderstandings, the prayer has become associated with Archbishop Oscar Romero, the martyr of San Salvador. And it certainly puts his sacrifice in perspective. And too, it helps us to find what is our cross, what is the work we have been given to do. The prayer goes like this:
“It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
“The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision. We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God's work. Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the kingdom always lies beyond us.
“No statement says all that could be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church's mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
“This is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
“We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord's grace to enter and do the rest.
“We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.”
+++++++++++++++
We plant seeds that will one day grow. We water seeds already planted. We lay foundations.
That’s a good description of what following Christ, of taking up our cross, is all about. There’s self-denial there, in realizing that kingdoms and their crowns are beyond us. There’s humility in seeking to plant seeds that will bear fruit in years to come, in tending the seeds planted by others. It’s not about the results of our actions, but it is rather about the action of our duty.
There’s self-denial too in remembering that we are not the master builder, but we are the workers. We are the ministers, not the messiah.
As we begin this journey together, and look to the work we have before us, as we discern God’s will for the Church of the Holy Trinity, this prayer is my prayer for all of us. I pray that we take the long view, that we plant the seeds given us to plant, and tend the seeds planted by others. I pray that we will open the door, and open our hearts, and allow God’s grace to come in, and do what we cannot. I pray that we will take up our cross, and do so humbly, with the knowledge that what we do we do for the glory of God, and not ourselves, and that we work for a kingdom to come, and a future not our own, but one that belongs to those who will look upon our work here and give thanks for our efforts, as we give thanks for those who have gone before us.
Let us then avoid the cross-eyed bears, the conflating our own wants with God’s will, and our own security with God’s service.
But rather let us take up our cross, and do it joyfully, let us do the work God has given us to do, to love and serve God and one another as faithful witnesses of Christ our Lord.
This is the Good News of Christ Jesus, our Lord. Amen+
© The Rev. Mark R. Collins
No comments:
Post a Comment