Pentecost 13A
August 30, 2020
Matthew 16:21-28
Romans 12:9-21
INTRODUCTION:
Last week we witnessed one of Peter’s shining moments, as he correctly identified Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. Jesus in turn says he will build his Church upon this rock. The shine didn’t last long, though. Today, Peter will turn from Rock to stumbling block, as he rebukes Jesus for saying that the Son of Man will have to suffer and die. And wouldn’t you? Who wants a suffering savior – wouldn’t we rather have a powerful one?
Of course, we know that Jesus is right on this one: suffering, and self-denial, and sacrifice are all a part of the life of faith. Even all the nice “marks of a Christian” that Paul will outline in our second reading require some sacrifice and self-denial at times. Turns out, Christianity isn’t about serving ourselves and doing what is best for us, but about doing whatever it takes to live out the gospel of Jesus Christ, to take up our cross and self-sacrificially love our neighbor. Our readings today address this head on. Let’s listen.
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
I love that this reading from Romans always comes up in August, because this is the month we were married, and it was one of the texts that was read at our wedding. “Let love be genuine,” Paul writes. “Hate was is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints, extend hospitality to strangers.” I think it is very good advice for a newly married couple, or even one married seven or 57 years, which is why we chose it for our wedding!
It's not just for married couples, of course. In the NRSV Bible translation we use, this section is called, “Marks of a true Christian.” These are all behaviors and efforts and traits of someone who not only follows Christ in word, but also in deed. In other words, if you call yourself a Christian, then these should describe how you live your life.
Really, that first line, “Let love be genuine,” is the main point. All those things that follow, those other marks of a Christian, are really just elaborating on what genuine, non-hypocritical love looks like in practice. You wanna love genuinely, Paul says, then don’t just talk to the love talk, but walk the love walk. Say you do these things, and then, actually do them.
This is really the heart and soul of faith, isn’t it? From the very beginning, God has always acted in love: creating the world, redeeming God’s people through Christ, and empowering the Church to service of the world. No one can deny that genuine love is a pretty big part of being a Christian.
What’s sometimes tricky, though, is knowing just how that genuine love should be enacted. Sometimes it is obvious – we see genuine love in kindness, and generosity, and compassion. We have seen that a lot during this pandemic, from the relentless care shown by healthcare workers, to people who remember to check in on friends and neighbors, or leave groceries on their neighbors’ doorstep.
But sometimes love is less obvious – like the spouse of an alcoholic finally putting her foot down and forbidding her beloved what he craves, or putting boundaries in place to keep your children safe, even if they scream and cry about it. Or on a larger scale, speaking out against an oppressor on behalf of the vulnerable, like Moses did to Pharaoh, or the prophets of old to the kings, or more recently, Martin Luther King to the institutions that kept Black people from getting the rights they deserved. In these cases, while the vulnerable person may feel loved, the one not getting what they want is likely not experiencing that action as loving. You see, love can be complicated, and can look very different in different situations.
So, as we try to sort all this out, let’s try to understand what genuine love looks like in light of our Gospel text today. Jesus says to his disciples, “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 will find it.” They are tough words – though no tougher than what Jesus himself does for us. So… if that is genuine love, self-denial and losing our life, then what does that mean for us?
Let me start by saying what I don’t think it means: I don’t think it means you have to literally leave behind everything dear to you, nor that you have to literally die, lose your life. Though, I do think it means you have to be willing to do those things, if it is in service to the gospel. There are a few exceptional examples in history who have indeed died for the sake of making sure God’s love is known: MLK and Dietrich Bonhoeffer come to mind. But for those of us who are not called to be martyrs, what might it look like to deny ourselves and lose our life?
There are so many big issues we could talk about, and discuss how love looks amid them, but for the sake of brevity, I’d like to suggest just two timely examples. The first is regarding our response to this pandemic. In the midst of so much loss these past months, maybe you, like I, bristle at the thought of self-denial. What more can we give up, after all – we’ve already given up seeing our loved ones, travel and outings, social events, sports, worshiping together, communion, performing arts, education the way to which we’re accustomed, and more. And the enduring symbol of all of this loss is the mask: the ubiquitous, annoying, glasses-fogging, voice muffling mask that serves as a near-constant reminder that life is not normal.
Yes, masks are annoying. But they are also the perfect expression of self-denial and neighbor-love. When I wear a mask, if keeps you safe. When you wear a mask, it keeps me safe. It doesn’t so much help the one wearing it; instead, it helps the other. And so we put up with the annoying stuff, we deny ourselves, in order to keep our neighbor safe. On the other hand, when I don’t wear one, it doesn’t say, “I’m okay with getting sick,” it says, “I’m okay with you getting sick” – which, of course, I’m not! When I think of it this way, I no longer groan about slipping those loops over my ears. Instead, I consider it an expression of faith, a way to communicate my care for another. Really, it’s a pretty low bar for self-denial, especially when you consider what Jesus was willing to do for us. But it is an incredibly important one right now, and it does help me, at least, to think of wearing a mask as an act of faithful, self-denying neighbor-love.
The other example I wanted to mention today is less annoying and potentially more… infuriating, and that is regarding political discourse. We are just off of two back-to-back political conventions, with just 65 days until the election. The slander and lying and attacks are already bad, and they will only get worse, not only from the leaders, but also from their respective ardent followers, on both sides. When I encounter a heated discussion of political issues, I can feel my chest get tight with frustration, and I can very easily find myself slip into fight mode, like I’m out to prove something and argue some sense into people! It’s not a look I particularly like, on myself or others.
So, what if denying ourselves during this election season looked like a willingness or openness to being wrong sometimes? By that, I mean: what if instead of going into a conversation to prove ourselves right and everyone else wrong, what if we instead committed to listening, trying to understand, and assuming we have something to learn, and even leaving the door open to the possibility that we were wrong about something? It’s not so different from the way we come to worship each week, as we open our hearts to God saying, “I sinned again this week, God. I tried, and I failed. I did wrong. I want to do better, and pray that you will help me. Please forgive me.” As Christians, we ought to be pretty good by now at admitting we are wrong!
But no one wants to be caught in being wrong. Very seldom does someone in a heated argument suddenly say, “My goodness, I am wrong, and you are right!” (at least not without sarcasm!), and no one has ever been insulted into changing their mind (like, “You’re right, I am a libtard snowflake, or a deplorable bigot. Thanks for pointing it out. I’ll change my ways straight away!”). So, what if we got ahead of it, working to deny ourselves by asking a lot of questions, and reading a lot of different sources, and spending a lot of time in prayer asking God for guidance?
If we do this genuinely, without hypocrisy, as Paul says, this may well result in having to let go of long-held beliefs, which can feel an awful lot like denying ourselves. But isn’t that what the Christian life calls us to: a life of continual repentance? And don’t we believe that ours is a God who brings about transformation? Isn’t the Christian life one in which we regularly examine our hearts for ways we have fallen short of selflessly, sacrificially, and genuinely loving our neighbor, in which we name those things before God, and pray that we would be able to turn back toward Christ? Isn’t the Christian life one in which we are grateful, again and again, to receive forgiveness? Because that forgiveness, we know, did not come easily for Christ. Christ indeed denied himself, took up his physical cross, and lost his life – so that we would be able to find our new life, a life that is free of the shackles of sin, free of the fear of death, free of all that would keep us from God’s love. It is because we have that new life, that we are able and empowered to deny ourselves and give up our own lives, all for the sake of sharing that life-giving love with those who desperately need it.
Let us pray… God of love, you have shown us what it means to love one another genuinely. Now give us the courage and humility to do it. Help us to see when we are misguided and help us to understand the plight of the other, so that we would be willing to deny ourselves and lose something important to us, for the sake of those in need. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
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