To Die For

Mark 8:31-38

Then [Jesus] began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders, the chief priests and the scribes, and be killed and on the third day, be raised. He said all of this quite openly. And Peter pulled him aside and began to rebuke him. But Jesus, turning and looking at the disciples rebuked Peter, saying, “Get behind me Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things.”

Then he called the crowds, together with the disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world and forfeit their life. Indeed, what would anyone give in return for their life. If anyone in this adulterous and sinful generation is ashamed of me and of my words, so will the Son of Man be ashamed of them when he comes again in the glory of his father with the holy angels.”

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I’ve been curious about and captivated by the death – and presumed murder – of Alexei Navalny, the Russian activist, lawyer, and political prisoner, who dropped dead in captivity just a week or so ago. If what so many believe to be true, is true, the bold, brazen way his death came to pass, is another terrifying example of who Vladimir Putin is and how his Russian regime operates. I don’t know enough to comment on the politics of it all with any wisdom or detail, so I won’t. But Navalny’s dedication to his cause in standing up for justice and in the face of an oppressive, power-hungry, president, is admirable.

And I’ve read some things from Navalny that indicate much of his work as an activist for justice and against corruption is rooted in his Christian faith. I’ve read that he was once quite a militant atheist, but that now he’s a believer, and that his faith has been the source of constant ridicule from many of his friends and colleagues in the Russian Anti-Corruption Foundation. His faith was also, apparently, a comfort and an encouragement for his life and work in the world. And, in light of that kind of stubborn faith, it’s meaningful to know that Navalny once said, “The world is made up not only of good and evil, but also of those who do nothing.” And he has also said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good people to do nothing. So don’t be inactive.”

And it seems like Navalny’s words – and the life they inspired in him – got him killed, in the end.

Which reminds me of something Martin Luther King, Jr., said once: “There are some things so eternally true, that they are worth dying for. And if a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live.”

It may be too much – or too soon – to suggest that Alexei Navalny and Martin Luther King, Jr., belong in the same hall of martyrs. But their passion for justice, their willingness to stand up to the powers around them, the fearlessness with which they seemed to live – and their shared faith in Jesus – can’t be separated from the words we hear from Jesus this morning, when he teaches the disciples that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, rejection, and murder, and that if you really want to follow him you should take up a cross and do the same.

Well, I’m no Alexei Navalny, no Martin Luther King, Jr., and I’m no Messiah, either. But I did see the Indigo Girls, in Dayton, on Friday night. (I mean that to sound like those Holiday Inn Express commercials, where they act like staying at a Holiday Inn makes you smarter. I think that may actually be true where the Indigo Girls are concerned, but I digress.)

Anyway, one of their lyrics came to mind in light of this gospel and King’s words and Navalny’s death. The lyric is, “There must be a thousand things you would die for. I can hardly think of two.” It’s a love song. And it’s about one person’s awe and admiration for another, so it’s not supposed to be about Jesus at all. But, it made me wonder about what he’s up to today.

“There must be a thousand things you would die for. I can hardly think of two.”

I think today’s Gospel means to make us wonder just what it is we might be willing to die for.

See, Jesus has just come out to his disciples as the Messiah. And he’s talking about what that means – the idea that the likely result of his faithfulness to God’s call on his life will lead to his own rejection, his own suffering and, of course, his own crucifixion and death. He’s not saying that you have to die to follow Jesus, necessarily. He’s just saying that if you’re doing it right – “if you want to become MY followers” – you better be ready for the struggle and the suffering and the death that could very well come along with it.

And Jesus knew that people – especially comfortable, privileged, powerful people – would be suddenly unsettled and afraid and threatened and angry because of all he was up to. He was about to upset the apple cart of the status quo in every way.

The cross about to be foisted upon Jesus comes to him because he’s about to come for the rich and the powerful. And because he’s about to raise his voice for the least and the last, for the outcast and the outsider.

Jesus is healing people who shouldn’t be healed. He’s loving people who shouldn’t be loved. He’s welcoming people who some would just as soon keep out. He’s forgiving sins believed to be unforgiveable. Jesus is about to pull no punches, give zero you-know-whats, lay it all on the line and let the chips fall where they may.

And the biggest chip to fall is himself – and he wants others to know what they’re in for if they really choose to follow him… if they mean it… and if they do it right.

“There must be a thousand things you would die for, [Jesus]. I can hardly think of two.”

And I wonder if that’s what was going through Peter’s mind when he tries to stop him – when he tries to quiet him down after saying the quiet part out loud. Sometimes I think Peter was just worried people would leave the fold if they knew what the risks were. Sometimes I think Peter was just trying to protect Jesus from all of that suffering. Sometimes I think Peter just can’t believe that this is the kind of Messiah God would be – one that suffers, one that gets crucified, one that gets killed. What kind of God is that?

But I also wonder if Peter doesn’t want Jesus talking this way – promising so much struggle and sacrifice and death – because Peter wasn’t up for all of that, himself.

“There must be a thousand things you would die for. I can hardly think of two.”

And I wonder if we – like Peter – fool ourselves into pretending that following Jesus means giving up chocolate or beer or Facebook for Lent; or that discipleship means praying more, or reading our Bibles, or showing up for worship. And those things are good and righteous and faithful and nothing to sneeze at, don’t get me wrong. But they are nothing more and nothing less than tools and faith practices meant to prepare and to move us toward something much greater.

All of our worshiping, learning, and serving… All of our fasting and praying and giving… are about preparing our hearts and our minds and our lives to be able to recognize and to facilitate the Kingdom of God in our midst – for our sake and for the sake of the world – even if it’s hard sometimes – and expecting it to be.

All we do in the safety of our homes and with our families and through our congregation is meant to reveal the way things are (unequal, unfair, unjust for too many, too much of the time) while knowing about how God would rather have things be (equitable, fair, merciful, just, loving) so that we will do something in the name of Jesus to bring the latter – the stuff of the Kingdom – to pass. And, again, that can be risky business if and when we do it right.

People with money – maybe that’s you and me – don’t like to be told they should give it away.

People with power – maybe that’s you and me – don’t like to be told they should share, or even relinquish, it.

People on top – maybe that’s you and me – don’t like to make room for others or to imagine their own place at the bottom.

Preaching that could get you run out of town, which happened to Jesus. Protesting in the name of that could get you hauled into court, which happened to Jesus. Teaching that could lose you some friends and get you betrayed, which happened to Jesus. Embodying that, could get you crucified, killed, and buried, all of which happened to Jesus, just like he promised it would.

“There must be a thousand things you would die for. I can hardly think of two.”

And Jesus did – he died – so that we might come close to giving more, to loving more, to sacrificing more, to suffering more for the sake of others, and for the good of the cause. Because even when we fall short – as Jesus knew we would, and as God knows we do – the cross never gets the last word.

“The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, yes … and be killed, yes ... and on the third day be raised.” YES. And “…on the third day be raised.”

And that’s where we find our hope to do what God calls us to. Not many of us are as bold, or as brave, or as faithful as the likes of Alexei Navalny, or Martin Luther King, Jr., or Jesus. We don’t all have the courage or the calling or the love within us to sacrifice and suffer and die for the sake of bringing God’s kingdom to pass on this side of heaven, no matter how badly the world needs it.

So we look to that cross, even if we’d never climb up there ourselves. And we look for the empty tomb, too, because we will find ourselves there one day. And we give thanks that even when we don’t, God does… even when we won’t, God will... even when we haven’t, God already has.

And we keep following Jesus as nearly as we’re able – testing our own boundaries, pushing our own limits, risking our own comfort, safety and security, maybe – to see, as Dr. King put it, “the eternal truth” of God’s grace for which Christ died – and lives – so that we, and the world around us, will too.

Amen

Crazy Is As Crazy Does

Mark 3:20-35

 Then [Jesus] went home; and the crowd came together again, so that they could not even eat. When his family heard it, they went out to restrain him, for people were saying, ‘He has gone out of his mind.’ And the scribes who came down from Jerusalem said, ‘He has Beelzebul, and by the ruler of the demons he casts out demons.’

And he called them to him, and spoke to them in parables, ‘How can Satan cast out Satan? If a kingdom is divided against itself, that kingdom cannot stand. And if a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. And if Satan has risen up against himself and is divided, he cannot stand, but his end has come.  But no one can enter a strong man’s house and plunder his property without first tying up the strong man; then indeed the house can be plundered.

‘Truly I tell you, people will be forgiven for their sins and whatever blasphemies they utter; but whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin’ — for they had said, ‘He has an unclean spirit.’

Then his mother and his brothers came; and standing outside, they sent to him and called him. A crowd was sitting around him; and they said to him, ‘Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.’ And he replied, ‘Who are my mother and my brothers?’ And looking at those who sat around him, he said, ‘Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.’

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My working title for this sermon all week has been, “Crazy is as crazy does,” partly because there’s enough to unpack in all of these verses to make a preacher nuts, but mostly because of the actions of Jesus and the accusations against him for having lost his mind.

The nutshell of it all for me is that this is another moment in the life and times of Jesus when he’s under the microscope and under attack, even, for the ministry he’s begun. He’s being accused by the scribes – some of the leaders of the synagogues – which is a thing we hear often in Scripture. He’s being worried over by his family, which isn’t such popular Biblical theme. He’s being followed by overwhelming, overbearing crowds of people. And he’s trying to convince everyone that he hasn’t “gone out of his mind;” that he’s not crazy; that he isn’t possessed – at least not by the powers of Satan or Beelzebul, as some of them assume.

But Jesus is possessed, it seems – overcome with and inspired by the Holy Spirit, I mean. And that Holy Spirit – bestowed upon him through baptism – was moving Jesus to do some pretty surprising, shocking, out-of-the-ordinary, hard-to-swallow sorts of things. And people were taking notice. And people were suspicious. And they were afraid, some of them, and angry, some of them, and out of sorts about it all. So they assumed and accused and questioned and condemned all the things about Jesus that they couldn’t see or understand or wrap their heads or their hearts around. And they chalked it all up to “crazy.”

Because that’s how people are, too much of the time, isn’t it? We are suspicious of the odd-balls. We assume and accuse and question and condemn. Sometimes we simply dismiss those we don’t understand or who push us out of our “normal” or who move us away from what’s comfortable or familiar or safe. Sometimes, we even kill them. Which, of course, is where all of this got Jesus.

And it’s been that way ever since, really, for the oddballs… the movers and shakers… the envelope pushers. It happened to Stephen and to Paul and to Peter, too.

More recently, of course, I think about Mahatma Gandhi and Medgar Evers and Martin Luther King, Jr.

And since June is PRIDE month, I think about Harvey Milk and Marsha P. Johnson and Matthew Shepard, too.

Oddballs and eccentrics, each in their own right. Jesus freaks, some of them. Outsiders, others of them. Non-conformists, all. Rebels. Misfits. Trouble-makers, even. Their families and friends and neighbors might even have thought them to be their own kind of crazy, perhaps.

And when we take Jesus out of the stained-glass windows of our collective mind’s eye, he is all of those things, too – a trouble-making, non-conforming, rebellious kind of outsider. And today’s gospel reminds us that all of his preaching and teaching and healing was so revolutionary that it made people believe Jesus was crazy, that he had gone out of his mind. Even his family tried to stop him – either because they agreed maybe he really was losing his marbles, or because they were genuinely afraid for his safety, or their own. Others, like the scribes, thought he just might be the devil himself – or at least possessed by Beelzebul.

And it’s hard to blame them, really. Jesus was doing and saying some pretty amazing things which didn’t bode well for a lot of people – especially the ones in power – but good news that promised nothing but blessing and redemption and fullness of life for those who had, up until then, been persecuted, left out, sidelined, and worse. (The other oddballs, misfits, outcasts, and whatnot.) This Good News was crazy.

Last week, we heard Jesus promise that God loved the world – the whole world and nothing but the whole world – and that God sent Jesus into the midst of it all to save and redeem it. These disciples he’d gathered to follow him and to help with this ministry were nothing to write home about – Jesus loved oddballs and misfits, too, of course. Fishermen. Tax collectors. Women. All of them charged with helping the Kingdom of God come to pass. And people were being cured. Demons were being cast out. Sins were being forgiven. More misfits were being welcomed into the mix and lives were being changed by it all. It was crazy.

Because what makes “crazy” “crazy,” is that it doesn’t line up with what people expect, with what people are used to, with what people think they want or need in their lives. So Jesus meets all of the criteria on the report card for crazy. He is just exactly what the scribes and other religious leaders weren’t looking for in a Messiah – this peacemaker; this forgiver of sins; this living, moving, breathing force of mercy, love, and grace in their midst.

So, if Jesus was crazy by the world’s standards, it makes a wannabe follower of his wonder what all of that might have to do with you and me?

Well, I think the answer is in that bit at the end of today’s Gospel, when Jesus says, ‘Who are my mother and my brothers?’ And then, looking at the knuckleheads surrounding him, he answers his own question: “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”

So, I think what makes us brothers and sisters to Jesus is when we’re just as inspired by, just as overwhelmed with, just as possessed by the Holy Spirit – just as “crazy” as Jesus, if you will, because of the grace we’ve received and by our willingness to share it at all costs. And crazy is as crazy does.

So, what if we spent more time – as children of God, as followers of Jesus – trying to be crazy by the world’s standards, instead of conforming to what the world or the Church, even, thinks we should do or be or look like? For the record, I don’t think it always has to be big, off-the-charts, headline or history-making levels of crazy.

I think crazy might look like bending over backwards to be as safe as possible over the course of the last year of this pandemic, in order to love our neighbor and to protect the vulnerable – at times when others would not, and in ways that may not have always made sense. 

I think crazy would mean giving more money and resources away for the sake of others and our ministry – to the point that people would think we were nuts.

I think crazy would mean we’d let more people in – so that the line for communion on Sunday morning would make guests wonder if they were in church, or at the bar; in prison or at the hospital; in the middle of a pride parade, a homeless shelter, or the United Nations.

I think it would mean we’d forgive more readily – so that enemies and grudges wouldn’t steal one more moment of our energy, one more ounce of our soul, one more second of our precious time.

I think it would mean we’d stop fighting about things the politicians and cable news networks inspire us to fight about. And I think, instead, we would start fighting against and worrying about extreme poverty, violence against women and children, systemic racism, consumerism, and the rate at which people die every day, all over the world, of preventable, treatable diseases or from lack of clean water.

I think crazy would look like the Kingdom of God happening among us, the Kingdom of God happening through us, the Kingdom of God happening for us, and for the sake of the world.

And I think that would just be crazy – in every holy, wonderful, faithful, gracious way we can’t always imagine; but crazy in ways that only God can accomplish – through the likes of oddballs and misfits like you and me – when we muster the kind of humility, courage, and faith to let it happen.

Amen