Saturday, September 11, 2021

Meditation for Proper 19B

Mark 8:27-38

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.

Then he 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. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”

He called the crowd with his 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 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? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.”

(Text from the NRSV): https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Pentecost/BProp19_RCL.html

Life is burdensome. I don’t talk about it often, but I occasionally find life unbearably burdensome. I don’t talk about it much, I suppose, because we’ve all got burdens of one sort or another, and if you really wanted to listen to someone cry in their beer, you would just go to any bar, stick some money in a jukebox, and listen to country-western music. Dogs die, lovers leave, the truck breaks down. Wah wah wah. We all have burdens. Burdens are the pain that accompany us in life.


Life is also full of thorns. I have rose bushes I stay far away from. I think the flowers are pretty, but I have found at my age that I only have to look at a rose bush and my arms and fingers just start gushing blood all for the heck of it. To paraphrase a line from Jurassic Park, “(Thorns) will find a way.” We can do all the right things, eat all the right foods, practice social distancing and proper hygiene and still get run over by a drunk driver, wounded by an IED, contract an illness, or lose a friend. These are thorns. Thorns are the pains that are inflicted upon us in life.


And then there is the Cross. “Take up your cross,” says Jesus. “Follow me,” he says like a good scout leader marching off into the wilderness with saints and sinners all packed in together. The Cross is neither a burden, nor is it a thorn. It is the pain we take up on behalf of another. It is the pain we choose. It can’t be forced upon us, except by our own choosing, our own choice. Jesus says we MUST take up our cross and follow, so it sounds like we’re being ordered to, but the MUST here is different. 


It is the compulsion of compassion. It is the compulsion you feel when the right thing to say or do is put in front of you, and while you may want to run away screaming, “Not my table, not my problem,” you feel just the lightest little tingle from the finger of God, right about two inches below the solar plexus, about where your heart sits on your gut, and you know, you just know you MUST say or do the right thing. 


For Christians, the Cross is the compulsion of compassion we feel in our heart and know in our head, just like Jesus knew about his cross when he turned and set his face to go to Jerusalem. He took the burdens of the world, and he took the thorns of the world, and he made them his burdens; he made them his thorns; he made them his cross to bear.


We’ll talk more about this Sunday in church. I hope to see you there in person, or by live-streaming, or coming to you somewhat Messianic-like from “the” cloud. 


Peace and Grace,

Fr. Keith+


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