Mark 8:27-38
September 15
David A. Davis
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Our text this morning is from Mark’s gospel. The account in Mark of Jesus asks the disciples “Who do people say that I am?” and follows it up with “Who do you say that I am?” The narrative tells of Jesus predicting his own suffering. Peter tells Jesus, “Say it isn’t so,” Jesus pretty much calls Peter the devil. Jesus proclaims that those who want to be his disciples will have to take up their cross and follow him. It is likely a familiar gospel story to most listeners this morning. But here in the context of Mark, I invite you to hear it afresh.
This account of Jesus and the disciples at Caesarea Philippi is a critical turning point in Mark’s gospel. Here at the end of the 8th of 16 chapters, it is a kind of narrative center that is more important than its placement. In terms of the story, and the plot, these paragraphs mark a shift from all the healing and teaching in and around Galilee. The gospel now shifts to head to Jerusalem. This Jerusalem turn comes with Jesus’ first time talking about the suffering and death and rising again of the Son of Man. Such weight in content, so much going on, such an important turn; it serves not just as the literary center but as a kind of anchor to the gospel. It is the thickest part of the shortest gospel.
Mark 8:27-38
As Jesus and his disciples are on the way to Jerusalem, Mark invites his readers to listen in on their conversation. The church listens in as Jesus asks the question about what people are saying about him. “John the Baptist and others, Elijah, still others, one of the prophets.” Jesus pushes it further; makes it more specific, more personal to the ones he has called. “But who do you say that I am?” Peter doesn’t hesitate. “You are the Messiah.” Jesus firmly tells them to tell no one. We are privy to what Jesus intended to be a private conversation. And it is about to get more uncomfortable for those eavesdropping on Jesus and his disciples.
Jesus starts to talk about his suffering, his rejection, his rising again. Peter takes Jesus aside to tell him to stop with the nonsense. Jesus probably matching Peter’s volume and emotion calls Peter “Satan” of all things. It quickly becomes the kind of uncomfortable exchange you wish you didn’t have to listen to. The kind of private conversation you realize you probably shouldn’t be listening to. You don’t know whether to turn away or to keep listening, start taking notes, and study the whole drama between Jesus and Peter for the next few thousand years.
You are the Christ. Peter’s acclamation of the messianic identity of Jesus. From the lips of the disciple Matthew Jesus refers to as “the Rock upon which I will build my church.” Peter launches the church’s affirmation of faith forever more. Then there is the not telling part, the just between us part. Labeled by the tradition as “The Messianic Secret.” Jesus’s stern command to the disciples leads to shelf after shelf in the library of biblical studies. Jesus and his Passion Predictions, foreshadowing his death and resurrection for the church listening in while the disciples fall a step behind in terms of putting it all together. A whole lot to chew on in these few verses at the center of Mark. So much biblical, theological grist for the mill. So much to write about, noodle about, and think about. The best of fodder for a Christian faith from the neck up. The thickest part of the shortest gospel.
Just when you’ve sopped up all the knowledge and understanding you can from this Caesarea Philippi moment, all that is to be studied, read about, talked about, preached about, the whole nature of the conversation in Mark changes. It’s easy for the reader, the church, you, and me to miss it. For us, the conversation shifts from overhearing to direction address. It turns out the only thing more uncomfortable than eavesdropping on the tense encounter between Jesus and his disciples is when Jesus turns and includes you and me. Or as Mark puts it, “Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them..” The crowd. As Mark’s gospel makes the turn to Jerusalem, Jesus calls to the crowd, to the reader, to his followers ever since, to you and me, Jesus calls, points his cross, and says, “This is where it’s all heading, why don’t you come along?” Talk about uncomfortable.
“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, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of the Father with the holy angels.” Jesus looked at the crowd that included us, nodding toward Jerusalem and saying “So…here we go.” While the church wishes Jesus was still just talking to Peter and the gospel would remain a safe and sanitized academic exercise (from the neck up).
To be honest, I wrestle with Jesus playing “the shame card”. “Those who are ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when we come….” Maybe that is too much of contemporary lens use. But Jesus and shame make me squirm a bit. There is some relief in discovering that this verse and the same verse in Luke is the only time the word falls from the lips of Jesus in the gospels. A possible takeaway is that Jesus invoking the notion of shame here is a nod to feelings, an emotion, a matter of the heart. Jesus doesn’t seem to be setting a low bar for the gospel here. It is not a sort of “as long as you are not embarrassed by me and you don’t embarrass me” approach to a relationship with him. Quite the contrary. With this turn to Jerusalem, turn to his cross, maybe Jesus is telling the crowds to not just bring their minds but to bring their hearts too. Just on the heels of the mind-being conversation with Peter and the disciples, Jesus turns to the crowds and adds a bit of heart-bending to it too. We are headed that way and the only way to go is to bring your whole self, to give of your whole self. The turn to Jerusalem. The turn to the cross. A turn not just for the mind, but for all your mind, all your strength, all your soul, and all your heart.
“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” These days there are many words or phrases that rightly are not appropriate to drop in conversation. The sort of things a younger person will tell a parent they just can’t say anymore. One of my irritations is how often sports broadcasters use battle imagery to describe people playing a game. So many others we could describe. Here is one for you. “We all have our crosses to bear.” That old saw ought to fade from the vernacular. Even with Jesus telling followers to deny themselves and take up their cross, the reference is to his cross. THEE cross. Take up your cross. Jesus, the disciples, and the crowds with his cross looming on the horizon.
Andrew Fosters Conner, a Presbyterian pastor down in Baltimore, puts it this way in response to Jesus’s call to discipleship: Jesus makes it clear that “you should be prepared to give everything for the say of God—nothing’s off limits. Everything is required. I can’t stand that about Jesus” Andrew writes. It makes building a church really hard. “Come to our church and we’ll call on you to give everything that you have for Jesus — money, time, work, relationships, life — all for Jesus. “Do we have programs?’ Yeah, we have programs — it’s called take up your cross. That’s the program!”
Here in the middle of Mark’s gospel, Jesus’ call to disciples, his invitation to follow, is stopping and pointing and saying this is where we are going, it is a call for his followers to bring it all. All of you, he is telling them. This means when it comes to the world we live in, the culture that surrounds us, bombards us, and the faith to which we have been called…it will not, shall not, cannot be easy. When Jesus is calling you and pointing to his own cross saying “This is where we are headed, come join me, uncomfortable doesn’t begin to describe it.
Our granddaughters are now 3 and 10 months. So, of course, we have dug out the children’s books we had when our children were young. One of those is a Christmas book titled “Angel Pig”. We even have an Angel Pig Christmas ornament but I will spare you. The story tells of a family of pigs who are getting ready for Christmas. As they prepare to go shopping for shiny and new wonderful presents, they discover they don’t have any money because they have already spent it on themselves. In their despair, the Angel Pig appears and tells them not to worry. It is not about what expensive gift they will receive but about celebrating one another. You don’t need money just enjoy each other and have time to rejoice. So they go off and make crafts, bake bread, and write poems for each other and have the best Christmas ever.
Trying to wrap your head and heart around taking up your cross is a big lift, maybe even a paralyzing mind and heart bender. But what is the place to start is a lesson a child can grasp? A lesson every parent at some point tries to teach. It isn’t always about you. Jesus is asking us to live, to act, to be like it is not always about us. The gospel of Jesus Christ offers a bold challenge to the dominant cultural message of “what is in it for me.” The examples of the “me first” movement are legion pretty much in every facet of life. Yes, the call of Jesus to take up your cross can be as intimidating and discipleship hesitating as can be. But maybe Jesus is calling us to live each day looking for a way to affirm that it is not always about you. That seems like a solid, grace-filled, Spirit-led first step. When I look around at the world we live in, the culture we live in, the days we live in, I think I love that about Jesus.