Sunday: 16th Sunday after Pentecost A
Reading: Matthew 16:21-28
Preacher: Joshua Daniel

"Jesus began to show his disciples that it is necessary that he go to Jerusalem, suffer many things, be killed and on the third day be raised." It is interesting that, when Peter objects to this, Jesus calls him a ‘stumbling block,' because this is the exact same word that Paul uses to refer to Jesus. In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes: "We proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to the Judeans." But of course Christ crucified, Jesus tortured and suffering on the cross, is a ‘stumbling block' to us, too. And by ‘us' I literally mean us here at St. Paul and the Redeemer. As Peter Lane pointed out some weeks ago, we rarely hear sermons on Paul's letters here. And why is that? Isn't it because he proclaims Christ crucified, not Christ the champion of the marginalized, not a Jesus of radical hospitality?

"It is necessary that Jesus suffer and die." Necessary - that's the word we stumble over, I think. Necessary in what sense? My study bible has a pithy answer: it's necessary because that's God's plan. You've probably heard this one before: because of Adam and Eve's first sin, humanity became destined for death instead of eternal bliss, and God, in His infinite wisdom, devised a clever scheme for us to re-gain that bliss, namely the innocent suffering and death of his only-begotten Son. If you've heard that before, it's highly unlikely that you heard it preached here. No, here we preach a God of justice; not a God who valorizes innocent suffering, but a God who sent Jesus to alleviate innocent suffering. If anything, we preach self-affirmation, not self-denial; if anything, we tell you to throw off your crosses, to help others come down from theirs, but not to take them up.

Sounds nice, right? Maybe we should just forget Christ crucified? Here's the problem. While it's true that the story of God the divine planner, the story of original sin and atonement, is not preached here, we do celebrate the Eucharist. And while it's true that not every Eucharistic prayer has the old language of sin and atonement, they all tell the same story of creation, fall and redemption, culminating in Christ's self-sacrifice.

Thankfully, some commentators have found a way to interpret the necessity of the cross in a way that promotes social justice. According to them, the necessity of Jesus' suffering and death is not a matter of divine planning, but instead a matter of historical inevitability. The idea is that anyone who stands up to the forces of oppression is bound to provoke their wrath; so, because Jesus stood up to the religious and imperial authorities of his day by ministering to outcasts and sinners, these authorities were bound to crucify him. This is a better interpretation: Jesus didn't suffer and die because God wanted him to, no, Jesus suffered and died because that's what happens when bad guys get their hands on the hero. This interpretation also gives us a sense of what it means to deny ourselves and take up our crosses: it doesn't mean denying ourselves the pleasures of life and taking up an ascetic life of personal holiness; no, instead, it means taking up the cause of the marginalized, ministering to them in the same way Jesus did, even to the point of suffering and death.

This is better. Suffering isn't a necessity in any grand, cosmic sense; it's just the wages of social justice. We're not called to take up the cross of innocent suffering, but that of heroic suffering. Sounds nice, right? That's the problem, though. I'm not sure what Peter objected to exactly, but after being told in last week's reading that he would be the rock upon which Christ would build his church and against which the gates of hell could never prevail, it certainly couldn't have "sounded nice" to hear that Jesus was going to suffer and die. And I'm not sure what Jesus meant exactly in his counter-rebuke, but I'm certain it was very akin to what my mother used to tell me when her plans for us didn't line up with my plans for me: Doesn't sound nice? Too bad. Regardless of whatever theory of atonement may or may not be consistent with this passage, it certainly reminds us that, if we choose to follow Jesus, if we choose to make him the model to whom we conform our minds and actions, he cannot, and will not, be only the Christ of comfort.

It's easy to concentrate on the name-calling in Jesus' counter-rebuke: Peter, you stumbling-block, Peter, you Satan. I think the more important part is what comes first: "Get behind me." In Greek, this is very close to what Jesus said when he first called Peter to discipleship: the NRSV translates it as "Follow me," but a more direct translation is "Come behind me." In other words, Jesus' counter-rebuke would have sounded to Peter an awful lot like Jesus' first call. Jesus isn't berating or belittling Peter, he's re-calling him to discipleship, admittedly with a bit more force. But why? What did Peter get wrong? In last week's reading, when Peter called Jesus ‘the Messiah,' he was in effect calling him king, the new David anointed by God to defeat Israel's enemies and usher in God's kingdom on earth. At the time the gospels were written, ‘Messiah' was an office, an office that was both religious and political, an office whose occupier was - and this is where Peter got it wrong - triumphant. Being the Messiah was supposed to ‘sound nice' because the Messiah was supposed to win, not suffer and die. Jesus' re-calling of Peter to discipleship is his way of saying, "Hey, discipleship isn't about winning, it isn't about any of those things that ‘sound nice' about following a Messiah - this is about doing as I do, especially those things that seem shameful and humiliating.

This is important to hear now, as we stand between political conventions, on the cusp of the presidential election. Political discussions for the next two months are going to revolve around winning: Who's going to win? Who is winning? What am I gonna do if the other guy wins, move to Canada? How triumphant will it feel if my guy wins? How nice will it sound to call my guy president? Bless its soul, politics can't help but be about winning. If that sounds cynical, it's meant to, but not because I think the outcome of political elections don't have an affect on our quality of life, here and abroad. No, like most people here I'm sure, I believe a good government can be an agent for good. However, it's essential to remember that no government, no political office, can be or is called to be a disciple of Jesus. I'm becoming increasingly worried that the affirmation that the government should be an agent for good can obscure an essential part of discipleship: we're supposed to be agents for good too, regardless of what others may or may not be doing around us - or to us. I'm especially worried that the idea of a good government that actively cures social ills sounds nice because it eases the burden of social justice off of us individually.

I'm not sure what it means exactly to deny yourself or to take up your cross, and I'm not sure it's always shameful and humiliating, but whatever it means, I know you're supposed to do it, I'm supposed do it, every single one of us is supposed to do it. Now, I'm not implying that you shouldn't follow the election in the coming months. Nevertheless, once our vote is cast, the challenge of being disciples of Jesus still calls us, perhaps even a little clearer: get behind me! But how? I think John Wesley said it best: Do all the good you can - by all the means you can - in all the ways you can - in all the places you can - at all the times you can - to all the people you can - as long as ever you can. I'll be the first to admit it has a nice ring to it, but pay attention to the words: ‘all,' ‘ever.' Wesley is giving us a relentless task, and unless we're humbled, perhaps even terrified, at the idea of actually practicing it, we're not truly hearing what's being asked of us.