Grenades, Crosses and Who you Really Are, Sermon 9.16.12

Sermon preached at Central Lutheran, September 16, 2012, Pentecost 16B

Caesarea Philippi sits at the northern edge of modern Israel in what is now the Golan Heights. Today, it's an archaeological ruin. In Jesus' time, it was an iconic Roman city, built to honor the emperor, and home of a temple to the Roman god Pan. Before that, it was the northernmost limit to the nation of ancient Israel. It was a border land, the end of the known world, and the place where Jesus chooses to reveal his true plan and true fate to his disciples.

Not too far south, near the ancient city of Bethsaida, is a place I spent two weeks in college on an archaeological dig. My religion professor at Wartburg College, who now serves a church in Jerusalem, took students there each year to experience Israel and Palestine, religion and history, conflict and beauty. Archaeology isn't all that glamorous. We spent long, hot days digging in sand and dirt, carefully picking around ruins of house foundations, and sifting bucket after bucket of sand and soil, looking for fragments of pottery and artifacts. One day while I was digging with a small shovel, I heard a “clink.” We had been warned about this. Years of warfare in the area had left land mines and grenades strewn about. I'd hit a grenade. It was spent, but to be sure, the whole area was closed off for the rest of the day and weapons expert was brought in. I thought about it then and I still think about it: so much trouble, distraction, and worry over something that could do no more damage. Of course that grenade probably had done damage; if not that one, certainly many others had. One small piece of metal, so much suffering.

The text from James for today talks about a similarly powerful weapon: the tongue. The writer compares the tongue to a bridle that guides a horse or a rudder that steers a ship. The tongue may be small but it can wound deeply. It's like a fire. It's a restless evil. It's a deadly poison. With it we bless and curse. With it we love and hate. With it we empower and devastate. With it we share our worries and concerns. With it we share our hopes and dreams. With it we share rumors and half-truths.

I'm going to speak very plainly. As you might have noticed, we are trying a new worship schedule this fall, brought to you by your church council and worship committee. Tongues have been used in full force to plan, discuss, debate, dream and criticize this new format. There were a lot of rumors flying around. Many of them weren't accurate and weren't helpful. These words caused confusion. The words were grenades, still live and able to fracture the body of Christ.

I confess we as pastors and church leaders didn't always give you enough information. We didn't find the opportunity to listen to everyone and sometimes we didn't listen well or listened to some people more than others. I am sorry. Change can make us all anxious, even pastors.

Let me be clear. We are trying a new worship schedule primarily because tongues over the last several years have been asking for changes in the number of services and service format. You do not have to like everything that we do here at Central and it's certainly not perfect. But I am asking you to stay open and be careful what you say.

Words are powerful in the gospel lesson from Mark. Jesus chooses the borderland of Caesarea Philippi to have “the talk” with his disciples. This section of Mark, scholars say, is the heart and center of the gospel, the point where everything changes. Before this, Jesus was healing all over the place and demonstrating his power in that way. Now, Jesus makes what is the first of three passion predictions and begins his journey to the cross, the place of ultimate powerlessness.

Jesus speaks the truth about who he is and the disciples cannot accept it. It's understandable. As Jewish men, they had heard about the Messiah, the anointed one who was to come to save Israel. Jesus admits he is the Messiah (Christ in Greek) and but then everything he says he will do (suffering, rejection, death) doesn't sound very Christ-like to Peter.

Jesus has spent the first part of Mark's gospel in ministry to the sick and outcast. Now he reveals who he really is and extends and invitation. An offer you might want to refuse. If any want to be my disciples, let them deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me. But self-denial in the walk of faith isn't about delayed gratification or the latest diet trend. Self-denial isn't about self-annihilation. It's about re-definition.

When early Christians, like Mark's audience, began to follow the Way, they gave up everything. They separated from their families, jobs, culture and way of life. They redefined themselves as part of the family of Christ. They claimed a new identity, a new way of understanding themselves. And so must we.

Jesus tells his disciples that when they re-define themselves as part of the family of Christ, they end up letting go of something. For those who want to save their life will lose it, but those who lose their lives for my sake and for the sake of the gospel, will save it, Jesus says. It's human nature to cling to things. What are you clinging to? Power, position, wealth, possessions, status, reputation, the way we used to do church? What is Jesus asking you to do? What happens when we let go? Studies show one of the few ways money makes people happy is when they give it away. We receive love and friendship when we give it away. We receive happiness by making others happy. What are we afraid to lose? What do we have to gain?

This Sunday is the 16^th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 19 and Ordinary Time 24. Are you still awake? There's no major church festival today, but it's a significant time in our cultural calendar. It's fall; we feel the chill at nights and watch the snow creep down the Chugach. Fall is when students and teachers of all ages head back to school. Fall is a time to put away our summer play toys and get back to our routines and rituals. Fall is a time when churches launch fall programming (Ahem.) Fall is a time to get things accomplished, to start new projects and get down to business. Fall is a time when our cultural context lifts up anew the values of rewards, advancement, attainment, security and self-interest. Many things make a claim on your identity; none of them defines who you really are. You are a child of God; that is the good news. What if wefocused on receiving our identity as beloved children instead of trying to earn it?

Part of me wants to tell you that you must deny yourself, take up your cross and embrace the new fall worship and education schedule. Perhaps that is so. But even more, I want to tell you that now, today, is an exciting time for us as a congregation to ask ourselves questions about our corporate identity. As a church, who do we say that Jesus is? How do we live our faith in a world that makes claims on our identity? What is our mission at Central? What is our calling as a congregation?

This past year, we claimed our identity as a welcoming church to homeless families through our shelter program. The past month, we claimed our identity as the largest congregation in this synod as we hosted the bishop installation. As several pastors in the synod have told me, smaller congregations look to us as role model. When we are healthy, so is the synod. In the coming months, we'll claim our identity as a place that uses technology in a way that welcomes others, enhances our worship and yet keeps us true to our Lutheran roots. Perhaps we'll claim our identity as the congregation who listened to each other, worked together, used our tongues for good, stuck with it, compromised and found a way to worship together that supported the long-timers and graciously welcomed the new-comers. Perhaps we will do that, and more. We ask God to help and guide us. Amen.