Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost: Homecoming Sunday

This morning’s story from Mark’s Gospel is a challenging one.

Sometimes, Jesus says things that give comfort,

and sometimes he says things that are difficult.

Things that challenge us.

Today is one of those times.

The story begins with Jesus asking his disciples a question:

“Who do people say that I am?”

It seems some people have been saying he’s John the Baptist.

Others have been saying that he’s the prophet Elijah.

Or some that he’s one of the other prophets, come back to life.

Then Jesus asks the disciples directly,

“But who do you say that I am?”

And Peter, without missing a beat, says,

“You are the Messiah.”

The Messiah was someone for whom the Jews,

probably the disciples, had been eagerly awaiting.

They believed that the Messiah would come and save them

from the oppression of the Roman occupation.

They believed that he would be a powerful figure.

Someone who would come with great might.

When Peter calls Jesus the Messiah,

this is probably the kind of Messiah he imagines Jesus be.

So you can imagine why Peter is confused and even angry when Jesus

starts talking about how he’s going to undergo great suffering.

That he’s going to be rejected, and even killed.

Suffering, rejection and death?

This doesn’t sound very much like the Messiah Peter’s expecting.

This isn’t what he signed up for when he said he would follow Jesus.

And it certainly doesn’t make for a very good recruitment strategy!

Peter is so frustrated with Jesus for saying all this

that Mark says he takes him aside and rebukes him.

And then just after, Jesus rebukes Peter, even calling him Satan,

and scolding him for not setting his mind on “divine things”

and instead on “human things.”

Then Jesus says some of the most difficult things he ever said.

“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.”

These are not the words I would’ve chosen for today,

Homecoming Sunday.

The day when we’re kicking off the fall at St. Peter’s,

and welcoming people back to church.

These words might not make for the best welcoming strategy,

and part of me empathizes with Peter telling Jesus to be quiet.

If I could’ve chosen the Gospel for today,

I might’ve picked one of the stories about Jesus healing someone

or maybe the multiplying of the loaves and fishes.

But the more I thought about it this week,

the more it dawned on me that what Jesus says in today’s Gospel

is exactly what we all need to hear today.

Of all the things he ever said, what he says today is among the most important.

Because these words about denying ourselves,

and taking up our cross,

and losing our lives for the sake of the Gospel,

are at the very heart of discipleship,

of what it means to follow Jesus.

And that is what church is about, isn’t it?

Helping us to follow Jesus more fully and more faithfully.

So what does this look like exactly?

What does it look like to lose our lives for the sake of the Gospel?

Does it mean we’re meant to go out and die, just as Jesus did?

Does it mean that we’re going to become martyrs?

I suppose for some of us it might.

Once you start following Jesus,

you never quite know where your life will take you.

And for our sister and brother Christians in some parts of the world,

persecution and even the threat of death are a daily part of their faith.

But I think just as important as being willing

to lose our lives for the Gospel in death

is being willing to lose our lives for the sake of the Gospel while we’re alive.

I’m reminded of a parishioner of mine in my last parish in Rhode Island

who taught me something about what it looks like to lose your life.

Her name was Ruth.

Ruth was in her upper eighties when I got to know her.

She was one of the parish matriarchs—

although she never lorded this over anyone—

and she’d been teaching Sunday school for over fifty years.

At the time I met her, she was dealing with loss

in nearly every corner of her life.

Her beloved husband Brooks had died a short while before.

And now, because she was becoming increasingly frail,

she had to move out of the house where she had lived for half a century

and into a small apartment in a public housing complex for older people.

Many of her belongings she had to sell or get rid of.

Soon after, she had to give up driving,

and she found herself having to live a much more limited life than she was used to.

As the years went by, her health began to decline more and more too.

Her congestive heart failure worsened.

She lost weight.

And it seemed like she spent more time in the hospital than at home.

And yet, here is the remarkable thing about Ruth.

Her response to her diminishment and suffering wasn’t to turn inward.

Or hunker down.

Or hold on tight to what little life she had left.

Her response was actually the opposite.

It was a deep desire to give more of herself away.

You’d have thought she would’ve retired from teaching Sunday school,

and become a “shut in,” as they were called.

But instead, she insisted on continuing to teach,

showing up every week and dressing to the nines,

even when preparing the lessons and getting to church on Sunday morning took so much more effort than they used to.

In fact, at age 90, she decided she wanted

to start teaching Adult Sunday school too,

and put together a class on the history of the church.

In spite of her age, Ruth was also unapologetic about her love of men, especially younger men.

Just before my spouse Michael and I moved to Seattle,

she took us out to dinner at one of the nicest Italian restaurants in the city, despite her very modest income.

It seemed that Ruth had decided that what little money she had,

what little health,

what little life,

these were all to be given away.

I think this is what it means to lose one’s life for the sake of Gospel.

To live in such a way that we aren’t afraid to give our lives away.

This is not the way of our world.

Most of us are taught to hold onto what we have.

To horde our lives like they’re private treasure,

especially when things seem scarce.

But the way of Jesus is a different way.

The call of Jesus is a different call.

It’s a call to live our lives like Ruth did,

in such a way that we are radically available to God and others.

It’s a call to wake up every day, and to say,

Ok God, here I am. Here’s my life.

It might seem like I don’t have a lot to offer, but what I have to offer, I give to you.

It’s a call to live our lives not with clinched fists,

or worse, with clinched hearts,

But with hands and hearts that are wide open to God.

Although I’ve only been at St. Peter’s a little over six months now,

I’ve noticed that this is a community where people have strived to follow Jesus in this way.

This is a community that, in course of your history,

has had some crosses to take up.

You’ve had your share of trying experiences.

Some in this community have experienced exclusion and racism for who you are in ways I cannot imagine.

These are experiences that might have caused many communities to turn inward.

To hold on to what you had

and focus on self-preservation.

But when I look at your story, so often,

your response to these experiences has been just the opposite.

So often, your response has been generosity.

So often, your response been to give more of yourself away to others.

To open your hearts wider to God.

To reach out further to other people—

especially people who’ve been excluded—

and to welcome them.

To lose your life for the sake of the Gospel.

This seems to be in your DNA.

And I have much to learn from your example.

We still have a few challenges before us here at St. Peter’s.

These pews aren’t quite as full as they once were.

This community isn’t quite as young as it used to be.

We have lost many beloved sisters and brothers to death in the past couple years.

These things are true, and they aren’t easy to face.

Many communities in our shoes might simply hold on to what they have with clinched fists.

But I have faith that with God’s grace,

your response—

our response—

will be what it has always been:

to continue to lose our lives for the sake of the Gospel.

To continue giving the precious gifts of this amazing community away.

To continue making ourselves available to God.

To continue making our hearts open to God’s desires for us.

Because in the end,

it’s only the heart that is wide open

from which love is extravagantly poured out,

that God can come and fill.

Amen.

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