September 20, 2009: Pentecost XVI
The Rev. Connie Reinhardt
So this morning, we encounter the disciples at an interesting time in their ministry with Jesus. For the second week in a row, Jesus is teaching his disciples by telling them what the future holds for him, and it’s a future that the disciples absolutely cannot comprehend. Last week Jesus told them that ‘the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.’ They missed it (way to go, Peter). But here it is again, another chance for them to get it. This morning, Jesus tells them again: ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.’ Jesus is putting it out there for them, the difficult reality of where his journey is taking him. But his words are no more comprehensible to the twelve now than the first time they heard it.
Now why is this? Why don’t they get it? Well, the disciples, it turns out, had different expectations for what the future held than what Jesus is saying. They had a vision of the future they wanted and expected, and it did not include betrayal, suffering, and death – not for them, and not for Jesus. They have started to figure out that in Jesus, they had someone special. Someone particularly God-touched. Someone who may even be the Messiah – the anointed one, the one they knew – they just knew – would help end their existence as an oppressed people. The disciples are starting to get a glimpse of the future they want, and it looks pretty darn good: Jesus will change their lives, free their people, and it will be glorious and triumphant.
But here is Jesus, in back-to-back stories in Mark’s gospel, talking about a very different future. There is glory and triumph – that whole ‘after three days rise again part’ – but not the way the disciples think of those things. Jesus speaks of a Messiah who suffers and dies. What? You can see in the disciples’ words and actions: this does not compute. So they go on as if Jesus had never spoken – they may as well have said to him, we have this all figured out, so no curve balls, Jesus, okay?
Do you think it’s possible we might have a thing or two in common with the disciples in this regard? That perhaps we have pretty clear ideas about the way we want or expect things to unfold in our own lives, and in the lives of our churches? We’ve got it figured out: it should go this way – the way that we have decided. And if we didn’t get any curveballs, everything would be fine. Just fine.
Except that’s just not how it works: not for us, and not for the disciples. This business of following Jesus – or perhaps more accurately, attempting to follow Jesus – is replete with curveballs. They’re everywhere. God calls us to places we don’t expect, and can’t predict. And here we are.
And that’s where the disciples are also. Because, after all. . . that Jesus. He just keeps telling them things that they do not want to hear, and that they do not understand. He keeps talking about suffering and dying and rising again. He keeps talking about the last being first and the first being last. He keeps talking about measuring status a different way than they are used to. He keeps throwing them curve balls. He keeps reminding them that if they want to be faithful - if we want to be faithful - we all better brush up our skills at hitting them.
And what we see is the disciples continually swing at them and whiff. I’m going to be betrayed and handed over, Jesus says. Peter is at the plate: he swings: “Lord, this will never happen to you!” He misses. Strike one. This week, here it is again: Jesus - ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again.’ The disciples are up to bat: who among us is the greatest? Nothing but air. Strike two.
The poor disciples. I mean, honestly. I read this great thing this week, reflecting on the disciples and their swings and misses. This person writes, “The disciples remind me of my teenage sons in the morning before we leave for school and work, and how they're always fighting each other for the front seat of our van. "Shotgun!" they call. Of course, I'm asking questions and giving information throughout the whole ordeal, all of which is a matter of life and death for me but none of which they remember. They're too busy jockeying for the coveted front seat. The disciples don't even hear Jesus as he's sharing his important, painful, life and death information with his friends. They're too busy calling, "Shotgun." Right? They swing and they miss.
But what they’re missing is really, really, important. In fact, it’s central to Jesus’ ministry and purpose. If they miss it, they miss the essence of Jesus. And here it is: the essence of Jesus, in one more of his head-shaking, paradoxical teachings: whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all. You all are arguing about who among you is the greatest, he is telling his disciples. You all want the front seat, right next to me. But you don’t understand what it means to be great – great not by human values, but great in the eyes of God. Being the greatest isn’t about getting the front seat in the car, or getting the choicest food from the table, or having the position of honor next to me. What it means to be greatest in the eyes of God is a very different thing. Remember: the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve. The Son of Man came to give his life as a ransom for many. Just another Jesus curveball.
And so we might ask ourselves: How are our curve ball hitting skills? How well do we deal with being in a place that we didn’t plan to be? How graceful are we when things don’t go the way we wanted, or expected?
There are some qualities that might be most useful to us – curveball-hitting skills, as I’m calling them. My guess is that these include flexibility, for one. Also, openness. A willingness to go in a different direction than you thought you would go, a willingness to listen for the Holy Spirit and to try to head in that direction. A willingness not to be first, as Jesus tries to explain to his disciples. A willingness to ride in the back seat, and perhaps to look at things in a different way, see from a new perspective.
We see the disciples struggle with what Jesus teaches them, struggle when Jesus tells them – and tells us – that to be truly open to God they, and we, are going to have to work on giving up power and control and a predetermined outcome. For the disciples, the predetermined outcome was a messiah who led violent revolution against the Romans. Jesus promised something very different, by a path of suffering, death and resurrection. Different outcome. Less control. And that was a tough one for the disciples – and probably for us as well.
And so. We are reminded, again, that the way of Jesus is not a way of certainty. The way of Jesus is not a way that promises to be easy. The way of Jesus is not about being in control of where things are going. Just ask the disciples, who struggle with this throughout the gospels. We learn, again, that the way of Jesus is something else.
The way of Jesus is a way of deep listening. Of letting go of a predetermined outcome. Of being open to where the Holy Spirit might be blowing, and of being flexible enough, open enough, to follow. Patience helps, if one wants to follow the way of Jesus. Generosity of spirit does too. And a sense of humor never hurts. These are the qualities, the skills, that ultimately help the disciples when Jesus is gone and they have to figure out how to continue to share the good news of his life and death. These are the qualities and skills that promise to help us as we attempt to follow Jesus – both as individuals, and as communities of faith. I pray for all of us that God’s Holy Spirit, and these gifts, may be poured out upon us as we continue our journeys together. Amen.
