Reflections from The Hill – Taking Up the Cross Mark 8:31
You could easily go nuts
just trying to keep up with Jesus as pictured in Mark’s Gospel: one minute he’s
getting baptised, then he’s in the desert, then he’s preaching, then he’s
collecting his mates together, then … you get the picture.
This Sunday’s Gospel is a
case in point. In the space of a couple of sentences, Peter makes his Grand
Speech (‘You are the Messiah’) and, before you can say ‘cheesemakers’, Jesus is
in Pete’s ear about his own impending and terrifying future.
I think if Mark were my
boss, I’d be looking for someone less hyperactive to work for. My Beloved would
concur. I’m built more for comfort than for speed.
Is it any wonder that
Pete is confused? A moment before, Peter was sure of what he knew. A moment
before, Peter got it right. Now, he’s being compared to Satan. Now he’s
confused. Is it any wonder?
It is never a small thing
for anyone, let alone Peter, to acknowledge Jesus as the Anointed One but the
sweetness of that moment quickly passed as the gathering storm clouds of Jesus’
passion begin to loom large. Any thought of an easy ride to the end is
summarily dismissed as the words suffer, rejected, killed begin to toll
their price.
We still find it
extraordinarily difficult to believe that the Jesus of Easter Day is the same
bloke who experienced Good Friday. There’s something innate in us that resists
the idea that the cross is actually the defining sign of what it means to be a
Christian.
We prefer to inflate our
own possibilities for goodness rather than to confront sin. Evil gets explained
away as a temporary madness or a glitch in the system and all one needs to do
is to readjust the fine tuning in our lives.
After all, the
Departments of Communities, Human Services and Health (or other) will make our
communities nice places to live. Well, maybe not Health.
William Willimon, who has
given me inspiration for the topic this week, reckons that we are more content
to be decent rather than courageous or obedient. He says: “Don’t worry about
what is good; it’s enough simply to do what works.” Almost always, expediency
wins.
If you’re anything like
me, the denying-ourselves, picking-up-the-cross and following-Jesus thing
brings many loud protests. This isn’t a path any sane person wants to walk;
this isn’t a burden anyone willingly wants to carry. Despite what you might see
when you look, my shoulders are just too weak to carry such a load.
I would much rather the
confrontation with evil to be less harsh than Mark tells it. I would prefer my
timidity and my good nature than the stiff rebuke Peter received. Being rebuked
is something I try to avoid but, hey, aren’t we trying to stop good people
getting hurt here, for goodness’ sake?
Immediately, I recalled
an incident that happened when I was a Hospital Chaplain.
“Is there something you
can do?” she asked, looking at the enormous red birthmark on her new baby’s
back and forehead.
“Apart from what you see
and the possibility that it’s invaded other organs,” said the doctor “your baby
is strong. In time, the marks may disappear, we don’t know. My advice is that
we take him off the respirator and see what happens.”
“That’s not an option,
doctor.” The teary-eyed father was animated.
“Well, think about it, at
least. You’re only young and you’ve got time on your side. Is it going to be
fair to you? Is it right to have to deal with what might be a lot of pain for
your family? None of knows what’s ahead.”
“Look,” said dad through
his red eyes, “We’re Christians and, for us, if it’s going to mean suffering
for us, that’s the way it’s going to be. Jesus did it first.”
A few weeks later, dad
and mum left the hospital carrying an overnight bag and a small bundle wrapped
in swaddling clothes to ward off the rain. There were tears in our eyes as we
walked them to their car, carrying what seemed to us to be an impossibly heavy
burden.
A resolution to soften my
words so that things will be better for people in the future began to form in
my head. I have since discarded it.
For dad and mum, however,
the burden wasn’t heavy at all. It was as if they were looking forward to the
privilege. It was almost as if they were being carried to a higher place, a
place to which I would never go, to a way of life I barely understood.