Where the divine enemy lingers around

Sermon on  Mark 8:27-38

It’s not fun to be called out in general. No one likes hearing that they are wrong. Or that they screwed up. Or that they didn’t totally get it. It’s even worse to be called out by one of your closest friends. Because whenever that happens, we know deep in our heart it’s the truth. Especially, when being called out publicly. And the worst is, when you just, minutes ago, thought, you got it right. That’s Peter’s situation.

In that moment, Peter probably just wishes the earth would swallow him up. As usual, the wish doesn’t come true, and he has to bear the moment and learn. 

It’s such a typical moment. The moment when we think we finally got it all. We finally are able to put our wisdom into one formula. Just to find out that really, that’s just the beginning. That a slogan or title serves to simplify a much more complicated message. And that just sticking with that simplicity will eradicate the deeper meaning.

“Who do people say I am?”, Jesus asks his friends. Not: “Who am I?”, but “Who do people say I am?” Jesus wants to know what people see in him, what their hopes are in him, their dreams as well as their expectations. 

Now, Peter is the A-student. Giving the right answer, proudly looking around for approval, grinning all over the face. Yes! He knows who Jesus is. The Messiah. But instead of praise Peter earns a look. 30And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him. 

But it gets worse for poor Peter. Jesus starts teaching him and the others what it means to be the Messiah, the anointed one. The news aren’t pretty. 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. It’s basically like confronting a life-long party member with the news, that one of their greatest hopes is doomed to fail. And that that is not a bug in the system, but due to the way the system is set up.

The Messiah. That’s the grand warrior, the superhero to save the world. The Son of Man, that’s an emperor’s title, leading powerful armies of winners. Yet, with a few sentences, Jesus destroys those hopes for worldly revenge and dramatic change brought through war. Why? Because there are no holy wars. There are no just wars. There are just wars. And Jesus refuses to be a part of them. 

Of course, Peter doesn’t want to hear that. This is too personal. Afterall, Jesus is his close friend, his teacher and hope. He cannot be killed. Plus, Peter’s life might be at risk as well. People know he is with Jesus. 

And so, Peter does what a good friend does. He rebukes him. Just, that this time, Peter doesn’t speak out of truth, but out of fear. Fear for his friend’s life. And fear for his own life. And speaking out of fear dramatically decreases our imagination. It limits our ability to hear and see what’s actually going on. Fear centers around ourselves. Fear wants self-preservation.

Basically, the exact opposite of Jesus’ message. Preserving any status quo was never a part of it.

The worst part about being wrong is not to be wrong. It’s to have to change your mind and accept a new truth. The problem is the change. Most of us don’t like change. We like stability and a projection of the future. We like the good old times to be the glorious future. 

Jesus’ answer couldn’t be harsher. He calls Peter the S-word. Quite an uptick from calling everyone “hypocrites” just a few weeks ago. “Get behind me, Satan!” Now is probably the moment Peter wishes he could crawl under a rock and die. Especially, since Jesus uses this teaching moment to call the entire crowd to listen to what he has to say. 

Here is the catch, here is what makes Jesus so angry he calls his close friend the divine enemy. “For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” The divine enemy is the one setting their mind on human things.

And suddenly, this story becomes quite personal. Especially when human things are the ways of selfishness and self-preservation. Or, in Jesus’ words: “For those wo 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.” If we want to preserve the status quo, if we first and foremost care about our own success or stability or happiness, Jesus calls us the S-word. Not sinner. The worse one. Satan. The divine enemy. The one trying to mold God into our own images. The one trying to be in control, idolizing our comfort more than anything. The one wanting a glamorous, impressive, beautiful, cool God who speaks truth to power only when we are not in power. It’s quite a reckoning moment in Mark’s Gospel.

But, Jesus doesn’t stop with the insult. He offers a way out. Disclaimer: It’s not an easy way. It’s the “Get your act together and follow me” way. Jesus doesn’t say it much nicer. We have just heard that so often that it has lost the edginess in our ears. I quote: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” 

It’s pretty clear. This has nothing to do with self-denial. It has everything to do with us working together as a community to pull the weight. Because faith is a group project. Being a disciple of Jesus is a group project. Taking care of creation, is a community effort. Working for justice is a group effort. Turning the pandemic into an endemic we can live with is a group effort. Proclaiming God’s word to the world, to our neighbors, friends and families is a group effort. And none of it is easy.

If we believe that we are alone in this, we have already lost. We have already fallen into the traps of the divine enemy that wants us to curl up and hunker down in fear. And lose sight of what’s at stake. At stake is everything. Our creation, our lives, our hopes and dreams. And if you now think that I am over-dramatic. I wish I was. Yet, looking at the news just in the last weeks, I fear I am not. Looking at our church’s numbers decreasing steadily, not just in Fremont, but all over the country, I fear I am not overly dramatic. I am a realist. Just like Jesus who boldly tells us how things are. If you cling to what you have and who you are, you will lose it. If you lose what’s dear to you for the sake of the Gospel, you will win more than your life. You will win love and community. But, you’ve got to do your part. You’ve got to carry your cross. 

What might sound like a threat to us, to carry our crosses, our hardships in life, is actually the most empowering message. Jesus gives us a job description. He promises community. And leadership. So, he carried the cross first. He also picked the heaviest one and he abstained from symbolism and just carried the wooden cross. Luckily for us, we don’t all have to literally do the same. Thank you, Jesus.

And yet, we have reckoning to do. Work to do that will mean change. Change that will be hard because change is hard. Who do people say we are? And what do we hope will people say in 10 years? When most of us will have moved or died? Leaving behind a small, faithful group of people? Will that small group grief the gone, the lost, the past? Or will that small group be a part of something bigger? Of a dream…

Yes, we can stay who we are now. We can choose the way of the divine enemy and focus on our human wishes to stay in our comfort zone. We can go back and pretend that it is the normal we knew in 2019. Or maybe even the normal we knew in 2010, or even better, 2000. We can pretend that this is just a phase and that we will magically grow. But it will not be inspiring. Neither to others, not to ourselves. We will just try to keep our lives as we have always known them. Which is ok. It’s just not Jesus’ way.

Yesterday, we installed our new Bishop Megan Rohrer. It was an empowering moment showing what is possible when people are willing to carry their cross. Until change is real. Megan was ordained extraordinarily. Because before 2009 people like them, queer and transgender people, weren’t ordained in the ELCA. And here they are now, elected as our Bishop, shaping the entire ELCA through their seat on the bishop’s council. Here they are, because they didn’t give up. They didn’t listen to what the church tried to tell them. The church clinging to its human limitations, proclaiming a Word that wasn’t God’s. Megan believed their call and didn’t lose hope in the face of a church lovingly telling them that yes, they are God’s beloved child, but no, not behind the pulpit. Megan carried their cross.

And they are aware that their life is constantly threatened. During a small get-together celebrating the final acceptance of trans and queer pastors and bishops in the ELCA on Friday, Megan told us that they are always wearing a bullet-proof vest underneath their shirt when at public events. The danger is real. Too many Christians still believe that an openly transgender bishop is the divine enemy. While not realizing that their limited understanding of God’s love and inclusiveness really is the enemy of the divine. 

Yet, again, we are in quite a similar situation like Peter proclaiming the truth that Jesus is the Messiah. It’s such a typical moment. The moment when we think we finally got it all. We finally are able to put our wisdom into one formula. The slogan is “All are welcome” because hey, look, we have got a transgender bishop, so we are obviously accepting. Which is really great. Just that we find out that really, that’s just the beginning. That a slogan or title serves to simplify a much more complicated message. And that just sticking with that simplicity will eradicate the deeper meaning. 

Bishop Megan is who we want to be. And who we can become if we continue carrying our cross, following God’s Word out of the comfort zone and into the adventure.

Like one of Megan’s assistants to the bishop, Manda, the former pastor in San Jose who inspired me to learn more about their Safe Parking Program. Manda just moved out of her parsonage and into her camper. For the next years she plans to safely park in churches’ parking lots, for a week or two at a time. To really spend time with each congregation. To meet the people and get to know their ministries. To be on the road like Jesus and with Jesus. Manda was willing to lose a stable roof over her head, the epitome of a safe and successful life. To win relationships and connection with the people of our synod. Of course, I can’t wait to host her here!

So, dear Saints, who do people say we are. We, the people of Christ the King. Worshipping at Christ the King Lutheran Church. 

Today is God’s Work, our hands Sunday. It’s the perfect day to take a look: Who do people say we are? Where do they see our hands at work in Fremont and the world? And what are the expectations and hopes connected with that? 

The answer is pretty astounding. People see us feeding the hungry, masking thousands of people, providing comfort through beautiful chemo bags and hope through backpacks. We help furnish homes, we help kids learn, we show up when we are needed. Why? Because we believe in the grace of God. And we believe that carrying the cross is a community thing. That giving is losing in order to win a world in which everyone is seen and loved. We are good at that. We are good at giving. 

But we aren’t good at getting out of our comfort zones. YET! There is so much out there we see and want to do. And we cling to our memories and our stories, trying to stay a church that once was bigger and younger. We still hope to become just that again. While, maybe, just maybe, we are missing out on all the ways God is showing us to lose our ways of doing things. In order to win something new. To win a new community. To walk with the divine. To carry the cross into a future that we are to shape. Right now. It’s going to be exciting, this adventure with God. We will lose some of what we love and win what we don’t even dare to dream yet. 

It won’t be easy. Change is never easy. And God will walk with us. Carrying the cross with us. And many others will join us. Because carrying the cross is a community thing. Following Jesus is a community thing. Proclaiming God’s word of God’s abundant grace and love to anyone is a community thing. And one day, we might be known as the Lutheran people in Fremont who dared to lose something in order to serve the community for the many years beyond our own lives. Wouldn’t that be a truly divine thing? “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.” Hallelujah and Amen!