Being human

A Sermon preached on 25^th February 2018, Lent II, at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden

Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16, Romans 4:13-25, Mark 8:31-38

I’m certain most of you will know the saying “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” It has never been true. Words can hurt even more than sticks and stones! 

You may find this hard to believe, but I used to be small for my age. While at secondary school I suddenly shot up … and so my nerve/muscle coordination took a while to catch up. I was therefore not good at sports, especially catching a ball, and my arms went all over the place leading to the nickname: “Unco” for uncoordinated. I did not like it. Did or does anyone else have a nickname they did not like?

I think we can be sure that the words “Get behind me, Satan” really hurt Peter. What did he do to deserve this? What Peter always does well. He put his foot in it. It turns out that though just before this episode he had correctly identified Jesus as the Messiah, it was still the traditional idea of a Messiah as a triumphant, martial, powerful, Jewish superhero figure, one who would lead an army of people able to throw the Romans out. And one able to distribute positions of power and privilege in the new order that would follow. 

Peter’s mistake was, as Jesus puts it, to set his mind on human, instead of divine things. But in Jesus’ abrupt and even unfair response we see his own human nature shining through. He is impatient, and Peter has touched a nerve. Jesus calls him Satan, who in the Jewish tradition is not the devil in charge of hell as he became in Christianity, but someone who tempts and tests. When Jesus was in the wilderness he was tempted and tested by the devil, and one of those temptations was to become the traditional type of Messiah. It is still an attractive option compared to undergoing great suffering, being rejected, and getting killed. 

But if he Jesus was tempted by Peter’s impetuous intervention, it was only for a moment. Instead he tells his disciples and a crowd that have gathered to listen that if they want to follow him, they will have to imitate him – in self-denial, sacrifice, and faithfulness. Jesus’ path must also be their path. 

But coming to Peter again for a moment. Do you know what’s so great about Peter? That he is such an idiot. That makes him so much easier for me to identify with. Jesus gave him the new name of Peter, the rock. And – in Matthew’s Gospel – tells him “you are Peter and on this rock I will build my church.” (Matthew 16:18) How wonderful that the rock on which our church is built is a man who makes mistakes, who has doubts and who knows fear. A human being in other words. 

And the same goes for the great Jewish Patriarch Abraham and Matriarch Sarah. In the passage we heard this morning they receive a promise and as a sign of that promise are renamed. Abram becomes Abraham, or “Father of nations” and Sarai becomes Sarah, or “Princess” as she too will give rise to nations and kings will come from her. But just look at what they got up to before this event. They both lied, Sarah mistreated her servant Hagar, and their reaction to God’s promise and commission is to burst out laughing: God, you must be joking! They are anything but perfect. Which is good news for us. God chooses those who are not perfect to follow God’s path – to “walk before me and be blameless” (Gen. 17:1) or to “take up their cross and follow me.” (Mark 8:34)

Abraham and Sarah did nothing to deserve their new names, nor to earn their role as father and mother of a multitude of nations. This happens not because of who they are, but because of who God is.

Simon the fisherman had done nothing to deserve his new name of Peter or to receive his prominent position within the group of disciples or as their leader after Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension. This happens not because of who he is, but because of who God is.

But when Abraham and Sarah and Peter were called, when they were given a task by God, one that exceeded their capabilities, they still followed and they still trusted that somehow God would make it possible or make them able to do what seemed impossible, and that as our friend Peter will find out, God will not forget or reject them when they make more mistakes and err from the path they have promised to follow. 

Now, in Lent, when we tend to focus on our weaknesses, on where we have fallen short, on what we consider to be our imperfections, it is very good news to know that none of these things, real or imagined, can stand between us and God. The good news is that we do not have to deserve, and we do not have to earn, God’s love.  Just as the Messiah was not supposed to be a heroic warrior or a superhero, so we who follow him are not supposed to be superhuman, just human. God can still do great things with us. 

I am not saying that following Christ is without demands. We heard Jesus formulate them –self-denial, sacrifice, willingness to change, and faithfulness. But none of these are about becoming more than human, they are about becoming fully human. It is those desires that separate us from one another, that we are called to deny. The life God wants us to lose, is the one devoted to self. The life we will gain is a life in relationship. The cross that we are called to take up when we follow Jesus, is a sign of God’s love for us: nothing to be ashamed of, on the contrary it is something we can carry with joy.

Amen.

Wilderness

A Sermon preached on 18^th February 2018, Lent I, at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden

Genesis 9:8-17, 1 Peter 3:18-22, Mark 1:9-15

Mark certainly manages to pack a lot of action and meaning into very few words and little space. We just heard about Jesus’ Baptism, his divine confirmation, 40 days in the wilderness, temptation, John the Baptist’s arrest, and the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry all in 130 words! And Mark also manage to fit in references to the OT books of Genesis, Exodus, Isaiah, and Psalms. And now I will take about 1300 words to explain it all!

Jesus’ Baptism took place in the river Jordan. It is not a big river, not like the Rhine or the Seine. It’s is neither wide nor deep, and when we were there two years ago we waved at the Jordanian guards on the other side and could probably have waded through. But it is a very important river. It makes the Jordan valley fertile and symbolically, for the Jewish people, it is the boundary between the wilderness and the promised land. This was the river they crossed at the end of their forty-year journey through the wilderness from Egypt under Moses. This was the river they crossed when they returned from their exile in Babylon. 

For Jesus though, going into the waters of the Jordan comes before his wilderness experience, not after. Nor does he immediately enter the Promised Land. Instead, he starts proclaiming a new version of the Promised Land, the kingdom of God, a promise which is available for all people, everywhere, and at all times. 

But let’s stick with the wilderness experience for now. The text does not identify the site, but we can assume that it takes place in the Judean desert, which borders on the Jordan valley and which you have to cross to reach Jerusalem. While the Jordan was a little disappointing, I was expecting a bigger river, the Judean desert which we also visited, was not. It is big and arid and dangerous. I did not see any wild beasts, just some Bedouin boys and camels, but they are around, and you really do not want to spend a lot of time there.

But Jesus did. And Jesus needed to. He needed time to reflect on what he had heard and experienced at his Baptism. The voice from heaven had said, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Mark 1:11) What does it mean to be God’s son? What is my role? What will I be called to do? How can I do it? In the other Gospels we are given the details of the temptations, and they all revolve around these questions. Mark does not. All we know is that he was with the wild beasts, so he was in danger. And that the angels waited on him, so that even, or especially in the wilderness, he could be sure of God’s love and protection.

Our first reading today, from Genesis, was also about a wilderness experience: not in a desert but in a world drowned by a flood. Jesus was in the wilderness for forty days, and Noah in the Ark for forty days, at least in one of the two versions in the Bible. Noah also receives a promise from God in the form of a covenant between God, Noah, and every living creature, for all future generations. God promises life: “the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.” (Genesis 9:12, 19)

Why is the Bible full of these stories of trails and tests, of time spent in mortal danger in deserts and other wild places? Because our lives are also full of these times. The line “I beg your pardon, I didn’t promise you a rose garden” is from a song[1]. It is not scriptural – but it could be. God promises us everlasting love and offers us an unending relationship. But we are not exempt from harm or suffering, we will die, and following Christ was often, and in some places still is, the cause. Even after we are baptized, after we come up out of the metaphorical river, we will experience dry and dusty paths, temptations, dangers, and apparent failure. 

Jesus’ wilderness experience is important for another reason. He went the way his people must go. And on that way, on that path through the desert, he was sustained and drew strength and courage from the words he had heard at his Baptism, from the knowledge that he was chosen and special, from the assurance of God’s love for him. He both shared in our experiences, and shows us how to not only cope with, but grow through them. 

In what we might call our wilderness experiences, our dark times, our arid and painful times, the times when we are tempted to doubt and despair, when we are tempted to forget that God in Christ is with us at every moment, we need to recall and reaffirm our Baptism and what it means: I am in Christ and Christ is in me. I am a child of God. God loves me and values me. At our Baptism, and every day since, God says to each and every one of us the same powerful words of love spoken to Jesus: You are my dear child; I am delighted with you. They are true even when we don’t hear them or feel that love, even when our experience runs to the contrary. As Paul said: “We walk by faith and not by sight.” (2 Cor 5:7)

It is after his wilderness experience, and after he learns what has happened to John that Jesus begins his public ministry, in full knowledge of the dangers. His ministry and mission is to proclaim the good news of God, saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” (Mark 1:15) Jesus calls on his listeners to believe in the good news, that is to trust in God’s love, and to believe that the new, universal promised land, the kingdom of God, is already here and at hand. The kingdom of God is very real, even if it is a part of reality that only occasionally shines through.  

The church has placed the 40-day period we call Lent before Easter. It is intended as a spiritual wilderness experience during which we are called to “self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and reading and meditating on God's holy Word.”[2] This is not only a time to reflect on our mortality, and frailty, and sins. It is also a time to build up the trust and hope that we will need in our dark times. To remember that in all the wilderness stories, our forbearers never faced the experience alone. For forty years, God journeyed with Israel. For forty days, God watched over Noah. For forty days, God stood with Jesus. And for our time, God will stand with us too. 

The Bible is full of wilderness stories, and the Church offers us this wilderness experience, because we need it: To discover anew the joy of being God’s child and beloved. To learn live as one beloved. To listen for the voice of God calling us again. To see Christ more clearly in the world around us. To encounter God. To be transformed.

Most of all, we need the wilderness experience of Lent to be able to both believe and to proclaim anew and with conviction that “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

Amen.

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[1] Rose Garden by Lynn Anderson

[2] BCP 265, Ash Wednesday Liturgy