Sermon for September 12, 2021 Pentecost 16 B House of Prayer Lutheran Church

Mark 8:27-38; Isaiah 50:4-9a Rev. Karl-John N. Stone

There’s a nice little quote I’ve heard from time to time: “History doesn’t repeat itself, but it does rhyme.” Many have quoted it, and while this is often attributed to Mark Twain, and while he did write something similar once (https://quoteinvestigator.com/2014/01/12/history-rhymes/) there is no record that he ever said it in just that way. Who knows? Maybe the saying goes way back to before Mark Twain ever lived. Maybe even to the time of Jesus and the disciples? Because when Jesus asked his disciples “Who do people say that I am?”, the disciples answered with examples from the past that rhymed with the present: “John the Baptist say some; Elijah say others; and still others say one of the prophets”--perhaps an Isaiah, a Micah, a Moses, a Miriam. Each of these great figures from Israel’s past had words or deeds that “rhymed” with the kind of things Jesus said and did.

Finally Jesus asks, “But who do you say that I am?” And Peter becomes the first person to give the answer that many of us take for granted: “You are the Messiah.”

Peter’s confession of faith gives Jesus the opening he needs to teach about exactly what kind of Messiah he would be. The Old Testament prophets promised that God would provide a Messiah: an Anointed One, who would redeem the world. Back at the time of Jesus, the hope and expectation that a Messiah would appear was very strong among the people of Israel, and there were several different kinds of interpretations, hopes, or expectations that people had for what the Messiah would be. Some expected that this Anointed One would take the form of an ideal king, in the mold of King David; others, a person who would appear at the end of the world. Some were looking for a Messiah who would win great military or political victories against the Romans; others, for someone to be an inspirational hero. And some put their hope in the prophet Isaiah’s description of a “suffering servant” who put his faith in God’s steadfast love.

We heard one of these descriptions from Isaiah in our first reading today, and this is the imagery Jesus drew from, to teach about how he would be the Messiah by “rhyming” with Isaiah. That is, to be the Messiah, Jesus must “undergo great suffering, be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, be killed, and after three days rise again.”

Now, to put myself in Peter’s shoes, here I am, walking along with Jesus, and I’d probably start off feeling pretty good about what I had just said. After all, I’m the first person to figure out Jesus’ true identity! But then Jesus starts telling me about all this suffering, and rejection, and defeat? I mean, Jesus, I don’t think you understand what I meant. I said you’re destined to be the Messiah, not a complete failure!

And really, as Jesus hung crucified, nailed to the cross, he was a complete failure in the eyes of the world. He was sentenced to the most humiliating of punishments; abandoned by the crowds who had once cheered him and hung on his every world; and he left behind no earthly possessions of his own. The religious and political leaders of the day completely rejected his mission. Even the band of 12 disciples who were his best friends ran away from him in fear. Only a very small group of 3 or 4 remained with him to the very end.

Peter--who represents all of us, in this case--rebuked Jesus for embracing the path of a “suffering servant” on our behalf. In return, Jesus rebuked Peter. Because, while putting our faith in someone who looks like a complete failure to all the world may not be what we’d want, Jesus knows what we truly need. And that is a God who meets us in our own suffering and loss, in our own grief and failure; a God who meets us when life seems to be falling apart, when we don’t know where else to turn, or how we’re going to make it; a God who met those who perished on 9/11 20 years ago in the midst of their terror, as well as those who rushed to help them in the midst of their fear and anxiety. Jesus knows we need a God who is able to meet us as we are, where we are, even in a place where we least expect God to be. A crucified Messiah will do that.

I know we each carry with us our own sadness and losses, our own grief and sorrows, our own challenges and difficulties; things from the past that haunt us, or things in the present that we don’t know how to get through. We’re all tired of having to still navigate through this pandemic, with the uncertainties we face and the decisions we have to make day after day; maybe you know people vulnerable to covid that you’re worried about--I know I do. The message of our crucified Messiah is that in the midst of these worries and difficulties, you can look for Jesus to be walking with you there, because that’s where he is: right in the thick of it, right where the world would tell us God would never be found--even on a cross.

So Jesus had to rebuke Peter for “setting [his] mind not on divine things but on human things.” The stakes were just too high, so Jesus had to rebuke him--but Jesus never gave up on him. And Jesus never gives up on you, either. Every new day is Christ’s invitation to “take up your own cross and follow him.” Jesus is not asking you to become a Messiah in his image--there’s only one Messiah, and he has already accomplished the job. But Jesus is asking you to put your faith in him and in his ability to help all of us find true life.

Finding “true life in Christ” by taking up your own cross doesn’t mean giving up all the things you enjoy and not having any fun. We gain “true life” in just the way Jesus did--by giving away what is most valuable for the sake of others. Give away your love and mercy. Give away your kindness and compassion. Give away your faith and prayers. Give away your service and caring. The only way to gain more of that good stuff is by giving it freely and generously to others, and especially to those who are struggling and most vulnerable.

Because God promises that the more of the good stuff we give away the more of it God will provide, therefore we can use the good stuff we give away to bridge the divisions that surround us. We can build up our relationships and connections with others, even those who are different from us. We can build up our community and neighborhoods. We can build up our church and our faith. We can encourage others.

As we each pick up our crosses to follow Jesus, we’ll find that even the heaviest of burdens can get lighter, bit by bit, when we pick them up together. That’s because our crucified Messiah already knows how to carry them, and how to raise us up to new life again. Amen.