The Gospel is in the Details - Mark 8:31-38
It’s not every day that you have a senior warden who is the music director of the Broadway hit “Godspell.” So of course we went to see it last week at the Argenta Community Theater, and it was great fun. We know a lot of the songs, but Jason and I had never seen the musical. We also decided not to tell the kids that the show is about Jesus until we got there. I admit that we offered a bit of a bait and switch - a night on the town that actually felt more like church to them. They were good sports about it. And we had a delightfully nerdy conversation on the ride home, about the pros and cons of mixing translations, and why Jesus stories in the 1970’s focused more on the crucifixion than the resurrection. And we all agreed that it’s weird to see Jesus singing from the cross, even if it is a musical.
I will say that seeing the show was entertaining, and also a bit intense. Whether you’re watching a musical or a passion play, anytime you see the whole story of Jesus played out right in front of you, it’s a lot. We had put away our phones and all of our usual distractions, and it was just us and the Gospel. From your seat in the darkened theater, the teachings of Jesus come into sharp focus. You also get a clear view of those around him, and how difficult it is for people to understand and heed his teachings. Then you see the reality of human cruelty and sin as the story goes to the cross. And you experience the wonder of Jesus’ willingness to go there, out of a love whose magnitude we can hardly imagine.
Such productions are a wonderful opportunity to be drawn into Jesus’ story, and our local actors did a great job. The Church, in its wisdom I think, decided early on that it’s also smart to have more of a long-term strategy for taking in the story. The lectionary offers us smaller, more manageable pieces of Scripture to meditate on each week. The details can be as rewarding to take in as is the whole story for our faith. And since we are in the season of Lent, you might have noticed that the details we are offered tend to be a little more intense, as the story heads to the cross.
Today’s passage from Mark is no exception. Jesus says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” People often interpret this as a lesson about bearing our burdens or making personal sacrifice. In hard times, people who are trying to be helpful will say things like, “That’s your cross to bear.” That can be comforting, especially if it reminds us that Jesus is with us in our suffering because he suffered, too. But the significance of this exchange with the disciples is much bigger than that. Take the next line from Jesus: “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.” A bigger picture is emerging from the details here, one that runs throughout the Scriptures.
We know that Jesus has his sights on his own cross at this point in Mark’s gospel, and when that happens, things tend to come into sharper focus. It’s just one exchange with the disciples, but Jesus is teaching them about God’s unrelenting efforts to reconcile us back to God ever since humanity first wandered away. The cross stands as a symbol of that reconciliation - of heaven touching earth, of God’s grace in response to the sin of the world. Though freely given, such grace asks something of us in return.
When Jesus tells the disciples that they must take up their crosses and lose their lives, he’s talking about losing their self-referential, ego-centered ways in exchange for the loving and merciful way of Jesus. We humans tend to operate out of self-preservation. Which causes us to veer off course from a core commandment in Scripture, the ancient Shema from the Book of Deuteronomy, which is to love God with all our heart, and with all our soul, and with all our mind. That core requirement is followed by a second one, summarized by Jesus, which is to love our neighbors as ourselves. These are the very things we tend to mess up. Taking up our crosses and losing our lives in order to save them is about putting these things back into proper order, loving God first before all else. This is not an easy teaching, nor an easy task, but it’s the real stuff of the religious life, captured in the symbol of the cross.
As a symbol, one of the profound mysteries of the cross is how it can withstand all of the questions we throw at it, and still remain God’s perfect and complete answer. The cross of Christ patiently stands at the ready for literally all of our questions. Am I redeemable? What if I have wandered too far away and the offer of salvation is off the table? What about the world? What if the world has wandered too far away? The divine response remains steady and absolute - that Christ was lifted high upon the cross that he might draw the whole world to himself once and for all. To all of our collective sin and shame and isolation, the cross responds with forgiveness, glory, and reconciliation. Whenever we veer off course, God has promised to call us to return and to then show that same grace to one another.
I’m grateful for the times when we are offered the whole story of Jesus at once, as in a musical in North Little Rock right now. But I am just as grateful for the smaller pieces of the story that can feel more manageable week after week. What’s remarkable about them is that they seem to start out small, but if you look carefully, they contain much more of our salvation story than you might see at first glance. Today’s passage from Mark is a perfect example.
As we get closer to Holy Week and eventually to Easter, I invite you pay close attention to the stories ahead. Spend time with them and study the details. There is much more about the cross to come, and some of the story will be difficult to hear. But if you listen closely, you’ll notice that the details will start to radiate with the glory of the larger story of our salvation. As we make our way to the cross this year, Easter is already shining through Good Friday.