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

Trials and Transfiguration

Mark 9:2-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James, and John, and he led them up a high mountain, apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them and his clothes became a dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And they saw there Moses, with Elijah, talking with Jesus.

Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here. Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He didn’t know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them and a voice came from the cloud, saying, “This is my Son, the beloved; listen to him!” And when they looked around, they saw no one there except Jesus, himself, alone.

As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them not to tell anyone about what they had seen, until the Son of Man had been raised from the dead.

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I’m a sucker for “Before and After” stuff. You know what I’m talking about. A good home makeover on HGTV where someone transforms a goldenrod and avocado-colored kitchen from 1978 into a stainless steel and subway tiled jewel for the 21st Century. Or a weight-loss reel where a poor, pudgy, picked-on high schooler becomes a ripped, muscle-bound college kid in just over a year. Or anytime those “where are they now” things pop up and you can see what child-stars from your favorite old TV shows look like as grown-ups.

But the latest iteration of this “Before and After” fascination had me thinking a bit about Transfiguration Sunday and Jesus’ experience up on that mountain with Peter, James, John – and Moses and Elijah, too. Sadly, thanks to the power of Tik Tok and the proliferation of meth, heroine, and other drugs in our culture, the last few years, these “Befores and Afters” are much harder to look at. They show the damage and destruction these drugs can do in less time than a team of contractors can remodel a kitchen or a teenager can reshape and rebuild his body.

I was going to show you what I’m talking about, but decided against it. It didn’t seem right to exploit that kind of sadness and struggle, just to make my point. So trust me when I say – if you haven’t seen them – these pictures (which are actually a series of an individual’s mugshots, over time) show that in just a few months’ time – or a couple of years, maybe – fresh-faces get covered with open sores; bright eyes become bloodshot and vacant; beautiful smiles become smashed-out window panes; otherwise healthy bodies lose their hair and more weight than seems possible. And all of that, of course, is only what we can see changing on the outside.

And, it may be odd, but the reason this made me think of Jesus – and the Transfiguration moment on that mountaintop we just heard about – is because of the first three words we heard from Mark’s Gospel as part of that story: “Six days later…” “Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James, and John …” “Six days later…”

Even though this amazing, wonderful, miraculous thing happened up there on that mountain for and with those three lucky disciples, it didn’t happen in a vacuum. And if you check out what Jesus was up to six days EARLIER in Mark’s Gospel, it puts it all in a different kind of light.

See, we don’t know what happened in the meantime because that doesn’t seem important to whoever wrote Mark’s gospel. But, six days earlier, Jesus had had some pretty hard, holy conversations with his disciples. We’re told that, six days before today’s mountain-top experience, Jesus “began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” We’re told that six days earlier, “Peter took [Jesus] aside and began to rebuke him.” We know that Jesus then rebuked Peter and said “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

And we know that six days earlier, Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and gave them that hard, holy teaching: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” And he said, “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. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?” And so on…

In other words, the you-know-what is about to hit the fan. Jesus and anyone who followed him – really followed him – were about to find themselves in some deep kimchi, as my high school history teacher, Mr. Huovinen liked to say. According to Jesus, this discipleship stuff; this “following me and fishing for people” business can be hard. It isn’t always pretty, or easy, or safe, or for the faint of heart, either.

And it makes me think about this thing we celebrate in the Transfiguration of Our Lord, and the way it might prepare us for the season of Lent that’s on the way – and for life in this world, really.

Because what happened “six days later” – where we find ourselves this morning – is that Jesus revealed himself to his closest friends as the next, and the best, and as the end in a line of the great prophets of their faith, like Moses and Elijah – the ones who showed up next to him on that mountain. What happened was that Jesus revealed himself in some larger-than-life way as the Messiah and as the Son of God and all of it was in preparation for what was coming next.

And, what was coming next for Jesus was even more unbelievable than what happened on that mountain – even with all of those ghosts, talking clouds, and dazzling white laundry. What was going to happen was that Jesus would be crucified. Jesus was about to share a meal with the rest of his disciples; he would be arrested; he would be denied and betrayed by these very same disciples, Peter, James, and John, just to name a few and then he would die a terrible death – whipped, beaten, mocked, spit upon, crowned with thorns, and nailed to a cross.

And all of this was even more unbelievable than what happened on that mountain, really. Why would God suffer? Why would someone who could heal anyone of anything not simply save himself from all of it right from the get-go? And why would Jesus ask the disciples to follow him through all of this only to die and leave them to deal with the emptiness, anger, pain, persecution, and grief that were sure to follow?

I think maybe God did all of that, in Jesus, because God knew that we would know so many people going through it. Or because God knew we would find ourselves going through it, at some point along the way. And we do, do we not – know people suffering and struggling in so many ways? Cancer and cardiac emergencies. Ugly divorces and dangerous relationships. Financial crises; mental health concerns; legal issues; struggles with aging; deep, abiding, grief; relentless addiction; fears, anxieties, and stresses too numerous to name.

So, “six days later,” six days after his hard, holy conversation about his own suffering and struggle, when Jesus orders the disciples not to tell anyone about what had happened on that mountaintop until after the Son of Man had been raised from the dead, I think maybe he wants them – and us – always to see the mountaintop of his Transfiguration, and the one of Easter’s resurrection, too – in connection with the suffering and struggle of our lives in this world. I think he was showing that God is with us in all of it; that God is not afraid of any of it.

I think he might be saying, just wait until you – and they – can see that I’m going through it, too. That we’re in this together. That we’ll all find ourselves coming down from the mountain tops now and again – deep into the valleys of life in this world, more often than we’d like.

Because whether you’re in the throes of a deep, dark addiction, being rocked by a relationship in ruins, or staring death in the face, this is where God does God’s best work – not just in miracles and magic and mountaintop experiences – but by coming down from the mountain, entering into the broken places, and making them whole; by finding what’s lost; by turning shadows into light; despair to hope; sin to forgiveness; by transforming death into new life, even, by a grace that’s hard to believe until you’ve seen it for yourself – which we will – all of us, by the love promised us in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen