Lectionary 24 (B) — James 3:1–12, Mark 8:27–38
Our biggest problem is often a failure to communicate. For example, last week, I preached on James, and said that Martin Luther, who gave birth to Lutheranism 500 years ago, was wrong to reject the book. A few days later, I got an email suggesting that I was too quick to declare Luther “wrong.” This is one of the things I love most about being pastor HERE: I have often, from a variety of people, been challenged on my theology and my reading of scripture. Some congregations are afraid to ask questions; other antagonize their pastor. Here, questions are asked with the desire to learn, to explore together, to deepen faith seeking understanding. Any worthy pastor loves the opportunity to dialogue, and I am no exception.
After all, we are warned today by the book of James that those who teach should be prepared for judgment. I am an ordained pastor, a scholar with an advanced degree, a past seminary professor who is headed soon to direct the entire theological education life of a whole church denomination. When I say something, most people believe me. I could say almost whatever I wanted. That’s true even in today’s society, where we love to question authority.
(Which reminds me, God wants you to give me all your money. No, really, I read it in the Bible.)
I kid about that, obviously, but it is really a good example. There are plenty of preachers out there–especially on television–who say exactly that. Give to me, and God will reward you. These are the worst abusers of people’s faith, but there are many others out there. As a listener, it’s difficult to know who to listen to. As a teacher, it’s easy to stray away from your center. In fact, I’d bet—not all, but—the majority of those abusive preachers started out with good intentions.
Take Peter, for example. Peter was the first person Jesus called to be his follower. He’d been with him from the first days of Jesus’ ministry, when he began healing and proclaiming repentance: “The time has come and the kingdom of God is right around the corner. Turn toward God, and believe this Good News!”
Peter knew. He’d experienced every moment of Jesus’ ministry, so when Jesus turned to his disciples and asked what people were saying about him, Peter was ready. Was he the promised return of the prophet Elijah? Did he receive the spirit of John the Baptist after he lost his head? Peter didn’t hesitate. “I know who you are. You are the messiah.”
Peter knew the truth, and it was exciting, and he could have gone to the top of the mountains and shouted it to everyone who would listen. And so it must have crushed him when Jesus said, “Don’t tell anyone. Don’t let word get out.” And then Jesus started to talk about how he would have to suffer, and be rejected, and killed, and Peter couldn’t take it anymore. “I said you’re the messiah, Jesus. You’re God’s secret weapon. You’re not going to be killed. You’re going to win!”
And this is, I think, one of the ways we know when someone we’re listening to is really bringing God’s word. When they say things we like to hear, we should be wary. When they say things we don’t like at all, we had better listen. That’s what one of my professors said about prophecy. If someone gives us all good news, they’re not a prophet. They’re a liar.
After calling Peter “Satan,” Jesus calls a whole crowd to listen to his rebuke for this first and best of his apostles. How embarrassed Peter must have felt. Sitting nearby, his face turning red as both his closest friends and complete strangers listened to Jesus rebuke him. “Those who are ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” Peter can’t get a break. He can’t even stew in his own shame without Jesus poking at him.
And Jesus’ teaching here? “Not only will I be killed, but you must be as well. If you will follow me, then deny yourself and take up your own cross. I am going to a shameful, gruesome, terrible death for the sake of others. And you’re all invited to join me.”
Most of us, I think, want our faith to give us comfort in times of trouble. I certainly do. And I suppose it does, at the times we most need it. But being part of the community of faith is not about comfort. It’s not easy. It does not bring only relief. It is difficult, and painful.
We like very much to celebrate how Jesus died for us. We do not like to think about how Jesus calls us to die for him. To give up all our wants and desires—our wealth, our property, our relationships, our families, our comfort, our homes, our health, our safety, our rights, our freedom, our lives themselves—and put God’s priorities first. But that is the job of Christianity, of the community of faith, of the Church. Jesus lived and died for us. We live and die for others, for the Good News brought to others in works of love. If we do not, we are not the Church, nor are we truly followers of Christ, the Messiah.
And yet, as my professor also said, someone who brings only bad news is not a prophet either. They are just a troublemaker. The bad must lead to the good. And in Christ, the perfect prophet, it of course does.
Peter did not know it yet. And it seemed that no matter how clearly Jesus said it, Peter just wouldn’t listen. His biggest problem was a failure to communicate. It wasn’t until after the crucifixion and resurrection that he began to understand. That he started to realize that Jesus wasn’t only his teacher, but is his Lord. That it was necessary to die in order to find life. But in the end, death always becomes life.
I don’t like to mix Gospels, but in John, Jesus offers his disciples the disgusting-sounding gift of his own body and blood, just as he does for us here today. Many abandon him. But it’s Peter, this same frustrated apostle, who answers him then as well. “Even if we wanted to leave you, Jesus, where else could we go? It’s you who have the words of eternal life.” Your teaching is hard, but it is also true. If we must die to follow you, Jesus, then I would rather die than stop following you. That joy is better than life.
To come full-circle, let me say clearly that Luther was wrong about a great many things. He was too quick to condemn others, his words used to justify murder of Mennonites in his own time and Jews ever since. He also obscured his good teaching by being rude to pretty much everyone. And when he spoke generally, he rejected the book of James. He was wrong to do so.
But in his details, Luther was right. He agreed completely with James, disliking it only because he thought it would be easy to misunderstand. James’s theology was great; his problem was a failure to communicate. And that was Luther’s problem too, and mine, and the lectionary’s, and all of ours. For what Luther, and James, and especially Jesus wanted to tell us is not that we must give up our life. It’s that when we do, then long before we taste death, we will get to see the kingdom of God already coming with power. And what joy. Amen.