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St. Charles Episcopal Church - Saint Charles, IL
The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost - Proper 17 RCL Year A
Sunday,August 28, 2011
Exodus 3:1-15 – Psalm 105: 1-6, 23-26, 45c – Romans 12:9-21 – Matthew 16:21-28
Rev. William R. Nesbit, Jr.
In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
It was a couple of weeks ago on my day off. I was sitting in my hanging chair on the screened porch reading. It was raining outside, the rain coming straight down and there was almost no wind. Every once in a while there would be a far off rumble of thunder, to give the hiss of rain a little character. All in all a wonderfully lazy day off.
I was reading about Grant advancing on Vicksburg during the Civil War, and was thinking that another cup of coffee might help keep me from nodding off, when the room was filled with brilliant white light. Perhaps even before I became aware of the light, an ear splitting crash of thunder shot me from the chair. I know the lightening didn’t actually strike our house, but it sounded like it hit me. To say that I was surprised would be a bit of an understatement.
In our Gospel this morning we have a surprise of a different kind. Jesus startles Peter with his rebuke, “Get behind me Satan! You are a stumbling block to me.” Every time I hear it, it affects me like a slap in the face. For Peter, I’m sure it was more like getting struck by lightening.
I suspect that if you were reading this story for the first time, and were paying attention, Jesus would be startling a lot of you as well. Sometimes when we hear a story that we have heard before, we can lose the power of the narrative. Remember, it was only last week that Jesus called Peter the Rock on which he would build his church and gave Peter the keys to the kingdom. But this week its, “Get behind me Satan!” You are a rock that trips me up! So what could have happened? How could it go so bad so fast?
After Jesus tells his disciples to keep quiet about his being the Messiah, he begins to describe the new reality, the new expectations for the new Messiah he will be. The problem is, it doesn’t sound to the disciples, at all like what a messiah should be like. You see, the Jews have been waiting, indeed still are waiting, for a messiah to restore the political fortunes of the kingdom of David, a sure sign for them of God’s returning grace. Wealth. Power. Influence. Growth.
It would be easy to say that those were just the desires of the disciples and the Jews way back when, and not now, but it wouldn’t be the truth. The truth is we all struggle with those same desires even now. Ever since Constantine converted, and made Christianity the official religion the Roman Empire, and we moved from the bottom to the top of the heap, we have been struggling to stay there.
In so many ways we have become our own worst enemies. We constantly seek wealth, power, influence, and growth for the church. We look at mega-churches with envy and wonder why we can’t be like that. The church in its various denominations fight to push public prayer back into the schools; fight to teach biblical truths as part of the regular science curriculum; bemoans the dropping of Christian symbols and writings from the facades and grounds of public buildings; and in general whines over the churches fall from its place of power and influence. In response to this perceived fall various churches are responding in various ways, but in general, not very well. At least I don’t think so.
Much of their response appears to me to be mere posturing in a grab for that elusive bigger piece of the pie. A political response to a theological problem. And lest we in the Episcopal Church appear too smug, I think much, if not all, of the current difficulties in the Anglican Communion really come down to this same dynamic; not so much a struggle to find the heart of God, but a struggle over who will get to enforce the rules.
The temptation of wealth, power, influence and growth. They are a constant temptation. They were for Jesus, throughout his ministry. They are no less a temptation for us in our ministry today. They appear to us to be the ultimate safety net, but they are not... They are a stumbling block. That is what Jesus reminds us of this morning as he reminded his disciples so long ago. “For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?” There is a cost to this ministry, the cost of discipleship. Unlike much of the popular spirituality found around these days, Christianity isn’t about self help, it’s about self sacrifice. That is what taking up your cross is all about; a radical turn away from self and toward the other.
It is not easy. It goes against everything we think we know about safety and preserving our lives. It is no wonder that Peter tried to talk Jesus out of it. Any sane man would. But Jesus isn’t a sane man, he is the Son of God, sharing with us the desire his Father has for us, the desire that we should love the way that he loves us, with the self-sacrifice of God’s loving-kindness. Self-sacrifice is the way of the soul. It feeds the soul.
In an article I read, a parent said this about sacrificial love, “I didn’t know how to love or really receive love until we had the baby. Before the baby, what I though was love was really a sort of exchange of favors. It was delightful. But it wasn’t love. With the baby, we learned about love. The baby cried, we responded. It didn’t matter whether or not we were tired, or doing something else, we responded. The baby did not do anything for us. But in these sacrifices of time, energy, money, and all of the work that goes with having a baby, we found out what love means. A smile from that child fills us with joy. We can’t do enough for that baby. We began to see each other in a new way. We began to sacrifice ourselves for each other. Sometimes it was a simple, “I’ll tend to the baby, you sleep.” Other times it was deeper. We both began to realize that we had parents who had lavished love on us. We began to see ourselves as recipients of love, not because we deserved it, but because we are alive.”
This is the truth that Jesus struggled to share with his disciples that day and it is the same truth he struggles to share with us this morning. It is the truth he lived out on the road that led to Jerusalem and eventually all the way to Golgotha. Jesus reminds us to sacrifice ourselves because that is the way of love. It is through sacrifice that we learn to truly love. In sacrifice, we learn how much we are loved. Sacrificial love is the food of the soul. It feeds the soul, nourishing it and making it strong. Whether we give sacrificial love or receive sacrificial love, the soul is fed. Our soul and the soul of our beloved. Our feeble attempts at love are lifted out of the economics of power, influence, and self-help And into the realms of everlasting light. And we are never the same again. Amen.