Matthew 16:21-28

From that time on, Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes and be killed and on the third day be raised.

And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me, for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any wish to come after me, 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 will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life?

“For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”

I know I have said it, but I can’t say it enough. From all of my family, thank you for the generous gift of time you gave to us for my paternity leave. It was wonderful.

I thought it might be helpful to share a little bit about what our days were like. Yes, there were (and are) the diaper blow outs, the endless piles of laundry, the constant “Clive stop touching her”, and coffee, lots of coffee. But especially in those first few weeks, there would come a point nearly each day when Clive had had enough of being inside.

It might have been the running laps around the kitchen or chucking toys down the stairs, but something would tell us he needed to go outside. And since I am not a source of milk, He and I would go for walks, or adventures, as we call them.

There is this little path in our neighborhood that leads to a small pond behind some houses. It’s got tall grasses and wildflowers all around, with tall trees hovering above. I would tell him we were searching for turtles, knowing full well we wouldn’t see one. That wasn’t the point. We would walk, look around, but mostly Clive would ask questions.

Dad, why is that flower yellow? Why is there water here? Why are the clouds gray and not white? Why is uncle Chad taller than you?

Admittedly, I was more than a little tired on some of our walks and did not entertain this game well. On my better days though, I would do my best to answer. But when you get five or six why’s deep on any one question, you’ve got to be a wildlife biologist, an astrophysicist, or a mechanic to give the right answer.

For example: why does it rain? So that things grow. Why? Because most things need water and sunlight to grow. Why? At this point I remember something called photosynthesis, but that’s about all and we are only three whys in.

And lest you think I am exaggerating on the number of why’s Clive asks, one study from the University of Michigan found that on average, a 3 to 5 year old asks 107 questions a day! A day! Most of them being “why?”.

I researched a little bit more on why Clive asked why so much and there are a few reasons.

First, at age three kids have an explosion of neuron connections happening in their brain, more than three times that of an adult. Second, it helped me to know that kids ask lots of questions with someone they trust. They are thinking, “this person is helping me figure out the world”. And finally, kids aren’t seeking attention with the repeated why. Instead, they are just unsatisfied with the answers, which means Clive is unsatisfied with me most of the time.

Sadly, this barrage of questioning doesn't last forever. Tight at the time kids start school, ironically the questions start slowing down. By halfway through elementary school, they nearly stop altogether, perhaps because in both our schools and our society we’ve come to value correct answers much more than good questions.

In reading the gospel this week, I can’t help but wonder how this conversation between Jesus and Peter would have gone had Peter responded with a question. I wonder even more how Jesus would have answered… Instead, Peter thinks he has the right answer again. Just last week, Jesus praised him for his answer to the question who Jesus was. “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God”, Peter said. And he was rewarded with a title, the Rock, and keys to the kingdom.

Yet, today we see Peter had the right answer, but the wrong understanding of what that meant. For him and most of the Jewish community, the Messiah would be like David and Moses wrapped into one, but even greater. A military leader who would overthrow Rome and lead the Jewish people out of oppression and into a new kingdom.

So when Jesus says that he must suffer and be killed by the people Peter thought he came to defeat,

Peter can’t help but think he is right and Jesus is wrong. Can you imagine how the conversation would have gone had Peter simply responded why? Why must you suffer and be killed? Why must you be raised on the third day? Throughout the gospels, Jesus never scolds the disciples or others for asking questions. Think of Nicodemus and all his questions or the disciples wanting an explanation as to why Jesus taught in parables.

Questions don’t frustrate Jesus. Insistence that someone has the right answer, or the right theology, does… Especially when that right answer or theology harms someone else.So if Jesus welcomes our questions, why are we so hesitant to pose them? Maybe because we are afraid of what our questions will lead to or we’ve been told we shouldn’t.

Like our schools and society, our churches and denominations place a premium on having the right answers or believing the right thing. And it has harmed people, especially women and our gay and queer siblings.

My hope is that this community is a place where we create space for and encourage good questions.

As we start this new program year, there will be many opportunities to learn together. My prayer is that not only will you commit to coming to one of them: Wired Word, Giving the Sense, Graceful Parenting, or others, but that while you are in them you are not afraid to ask questions of your neighbor, your pastors, your faith, and the holy words of the Word.

When we do that, we’ll make new connections and gain deeper understanding about each other and our God. We will grow in trust, helping one another figure out our faith and the world around us. We will also be, and likely have already been, unsatisfied with some answers you get: from us, from popular theology, or from your past church experience. And that’s okay!

One of the best pieces of advice I read about Clive’s constant questioning is that he's likely unsatisfied with my answers because they are causal, not functional. In other words, I am explaining what causes something and not its function. He asks why the flower is yellow and I say because of the pigment in its petals. That is useless to Clive. But if I say, so that bees and butterflies can find it, now we’ve got something. Preschoolers want an answer that is functional, that explains what something does, not just what it means. And that’s beautiful, it’s also very Lutheran.

If you have asked “Why did Jesus have to die?” and someone responded with “because that was God’s plan” or “because of sin”, that’s a causal answer likely leading to many more whys. I am much more interested in a functional answer of why Jesus died and was raised. That answer is perhaps more simple, but no less profound.

Jesus died and was raised for you, and for me and for the whole world, so that we might receive grace and forgiveness here and now, and that all creation will one day be raised to new life, just as Jesus was.

That’s why.

Until then, ask all the questions you can about this faith we share, about this God we worship, and about this grace we’ve received. It will help us learn together, trust each other more, and above all, get a deeper understanding of this Jesus we follow. We might not be satisfied with all the answers we get, but I bet one day we will be.

Amen

Mark 15:33-39

When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three o’clock in the afternoon. At three o’clock, Jesus cried out with a loud voice, ‘Eloi! Eloi! Lema sabbacthani!,’ which means, ‘My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?’ When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, ‘Listen he is calling for Elijah.’ Someone went and got a large sponge, filled it with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink saying, ‘Wait. Let us see whether Elijah will come and take him down.’

Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain in the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, ‘Truly, this man was God’s son.’

As you know, I have the unique and holy opportunity to walk with people – many of you people – through some pretty sacred places, one of which is in our time of dying. And it happened not long ago that I was called to a nursing home to the bedside of a dying man who hadn’t been dying just days – or even hours – before I was invited to visit. I hadn’t met him before, or his son, who was also there when I showed up that evening.

But it seemed clear that Tom was, in fact, close to death. He didn’t seem to be aware of what was going on around him. His breaths were labored… and rattling… and growing fewer and farther between, even in just the hour or so that I was with him.

And I’m a pretty firm believer in the notion that many people need or want or respond to permission to die, if we can give it to them. I will never say I’m certain of it, but I know of more than a few occasions when dying men and women have held on to life in this world through all sorts of sickness and struggle and hardship, only to finally let go and rest easy and breathe their last, shortly after someone they love – or even some knucklehead of a pastor – gives them permission to stop fighting.

I’m not sure if that’s what happened recently with Tom. And it’s only part of what I want to share with you.

See, if I ever give such permission or pray such a prayer for a dying person, I’m sure to ask their permission – or to ask the permission of someone who loves them most – before I do. So, I asked Tom’s son if they’d had a conversation, yet – if he or his dad was ready, I mean. His son said, “Ready to …?”

“…die.” I had to fill in the blank, because he wasn’t expecting that question and he wasn’t quite ready to say it out loud, even if he knew what I was getting at. And he was ready, he thought, to give him that permission, even if he seemed to hesitate, understandably, just the same.

Tom’s son acknowledged that he was a believer. I don’t remember exactly what he said about that. But he went on to talk a little about Tom, saying he used to go to church, that he practiced his faith in the past, but that he wasn’t sure about where his dad was with all of that lately.

The insinuation was – as it so often is with too many people, if you ask me – that Tom’s son wasn’t certain his dad had “gotten right with God” enough in recent days or months or years, in order to feel good about where he might end up whenever the dying might come. Would he make it to heaven?, he meant. Would he be “saved”?, as they say. Which I find to be a heartbreaking thing for anyone to have to wonder or worry about.

But it also led to the most useful and faithful and obviously helpful moment I’ve felt in my role as “Pastor” in recent days.

Because that night in the nursing home, with my hand on Tom’s son’s shoulder as he held his dying father’s hand, we gave Tom permission to die and his son permission to let him go and both of them permission to hope and expect and to trust that God was already surrounding us in that room and that God was already waiting for Tom on the other side of eternity, too, with open arms and an abiding mercy and all the fullness of love and grace hope the universe can hold, even in the face of death. And I believe that’s just exactly where Tom landed when he breathed his last, just a few hours later that evening.

And that’s the big picture of what it means to “TELL others about the God we worship…” and learn about, and serve, as believers in this place.

Because I’m here to tell you… I’m afraid there are more people than not who are still under the impression that God can’t or won’t do what God has already done in Jesus. I mean there are still too many people who are afraid they haven’t worshiped enough, or learned enough, or served, enough, or repented or been faithful or forgiven enough. There are still too many people who are afraid that they – or we – or someone they care about – hasn’t checked all the boxes of righteousness and faithfulness and discipleship to have secured their place in God’s heaven.

And when we think that way – when we live that way – we forget about the kind of king we’re dealing with in Jesus.

Jesus is not the kind of king who lays down the law so that we will obey and be saved. Jesus is not the kind of king who demands fealty from his subjects in return for good fortune. Jesus is not the kind of king who exacts our allegiance for the assurance of our salvation.

Jesus is the kind of king who lays down his life… who suffers and dies… not just so that we can rest in peace when the time comes. Jesus does all of this so that we will live differently – here and now – because of that hope.

That’s why this good news isn’t just for crosses and Calvary or for nursing homes and death beds. The Good News of God we’re called to TELL is for the living – on this side of the grave, too – because it can change everything. Because in light of God’s good news, we can give ourselves and each other permission to die, not just to life as we know it when the time comes.

But we can give ourselves and each other permission to die – every day – to the things that keep us from experiencing the fullness of life in Christ, which God intends. We can give ourselves and each other permission to die to our greed so that we can be more generous. We can give ourselves and each other permission to die to our grudges so that we can offer – and receive – forgiveness, instead. We can give ourselves and each other permission to die to our pride so that we can live with humility, and trust in God’s power more than our own.

Now, we don’t know what the Centurion from this morning’s Gospel did next. But I can’t imagine his life was the same after he looked into the crucified, lifeless face of Jesus and recognized him for who he was. I like to imagine that he dropped his sword or his shield or whatever he was carrying and that he went home broken by the weight of it all and transformed even more-so, on the third day, when he started to hear rumors of the resurrection.

And I imagine he told someone he loved about it all. He must have said something to someone about a God who would take such a beating, who would make such a sacrifice, who would give such a gift. And I hope he knew God did it, even for him. And I hope that his life – and his little part of the world – was better because he shared it.

And I hope each of us knows the same. And that we’ll tell someone about it, too. And that we’ll live differently because of it, in some way.

This good news is too good to keep to ourselves, because its promises for life on the other side of the grave can change lives and transform the world on this side of the grave, whenever we tell others and live differently because of what we know about God’s everlasting love in Jesus Christ, our king.

Amen

Why? Why? Why?

Marks of Discipleship: TELL Others