I hope that many of you had the chance to see the movie “Selma” while it was in the theatre. It is a searing and honest look at the time surrounding the civil rights marches from Selma, Alabama to the state capital in Montgomery in March, 1965, 50 years ago when Black people marched against hate and violence to claim their right to vote. Many of us are familiar with the role of The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. whose prophetic leadership has earned a rightful place in our history. But this movie shows that there were countless men, women and children who devoted their time, their energy, and in some cases their lives to support the dignity of all human beings.
There was Lynda Blackmon Lowry who celebrated her 15th birthday on the march from Selma to Montgomery. She has written a book for young readers about her experience. She talks of walking in the rain and sleeping in damp tents. She speaks of being “terrified” by the presence of angry people along the way and the military people with startling guns and bayonets who were charged with her protection. But she said that even though she was afraid, she knew that if she did not face this fear directly, that one day this fear would own her. She talks of a redeeming moment when a white man who marched beside her and promised that he would protect her with his life if necessary.
There was the Rev. Clark Olsen who traveled to Selma at the call of Dr. King for clergy to join the march for Black voting rights. A graduate of Oberlin College and Harvard Divinity School, Olsen was living in Berkeley, California preaching at the Unitarian Fellowship when he saw the marchers being beaten by police on the Edmund Pettus Bridge. He thought about going to Alabama and when he was give money to cover the cost of a plane ticket, he kissed his wife and 4 year old daughter goodbye and headed to Selma. A late plane caused him to miss the second march where Dr. King kneeled in prayer and then turned the people around in face of the overwhelming presence of police and angry protestors. But later, when walking back from dinner with two other clergy colleagues, he was attacked by four angry white men. One of his companions, the Rev. James Reeb, a Unitarian Minister from Washington, D.C. was killed in the attack.
These people among many, took their faith in Jesus Christ very seriously. They heard the call to deny themselves, take up their cross and follow Jesus. They did not know where their assent would lead them, but they knew that in living only to save their lives, they would certainly lose them.
In our reading this morning from the Gospel of Mark we hear Jesus beginning to tell his disciples that he will suffer, be rejected, be killed, and in three days rise again. These are hard words to hear today 2000 years away from the original scene. It is hard to imagine how these words must have landed on the ears of these new disciples. Up until now those who had followed Jesus had seen nothing but Jesus’ authority and power. He taught in the synagogue so that people were amazed. He healed the sick. He called out unclean spirits freeing people from the ravages of illness. He was followed by multitudes who sought his words and his touch. He even caused the sea and the wind to bow to his will. Yet here, Jesus begins to teach his disciples, that he must undergo great suffering, be rejected, and killed. This was not what his followers expected.
In the passage just before our reading today, Peter had declared Jesus to be “the Messiah.” This was not what the Messiah was supposed to do. The Messiah was to rule. The Messiah was to liberate the Jewish people from the oppressive rule of the Romans. The Messiah was to reestablish a peaceable kingdom where Jews would once again flourish.
But beginning here, Jesus will face increasing rejection until he is crucified by the people. Beginning here the story shifts from the facts of Jesus’ Messiahship to its meaning.
Jesus must suffer because his understanding of God’s will runs counter to that of the religious authorities. Jesus is on a collision course with God’s human surrogates. So speaking for many of Jesus’ followers, Peter takes Jesus aside and rebukes him. He calls him up short.
But Jesus will not be undercut by Peter. His sharp “get behind me, Satan” recalls the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness. In Mark the temptation of Jesus is defined here—Jesus is tempted and so are we to think that God’s anointed can avoid suffering, rejection, and death; that God’s rule means power without pain, glory without humiliation. And Jesus’ rebuke reminds Peter where disciples belong. “Behind me” and “after me” are identical in Greek. Disciples are not to guide, protect, or possess Jesus, they are to follow him.
In this time of Lent we are asked to reflect on what it means to be a follower of Jesus Christ. What does it mean when we call ourselves Christians? In Jesus’ teaching in Mark we hear vividly and in concise words the essence of what it means to live in the kingdom of God—what is the true cost of discipleship.
Jesus calls us to literally offer our all–all that we are and all that we have to love God and love neighbor. Jesus knows that nothing less will do. But to take up our cross requires a sacrifice that can be hard to hear.
Jesus tells his disciples and others in the crowd that they are to deny themselves. The Greek word that is translated “deny” (aparnesastho) is the same one used to describe Peter’s action when he is recognized as one of Jesus’ followers. When asked, Peter says that he does not know Jesus—he denies that he has any connection with him. “Deny” is the opposite of “confess” or “acknowledge.” Those who hear Jesus’ words are called to deny themselves rather than deny Jesus. They are to step back from being at the top of their priority or center of the universe. Rather than trying to be God they are to let God be God. We are called to put God’s kingdom work ahead of our own desires.
In Lent we often think that one of our responses must be to deny ourselves something; that we must relinquish something we enjoy or do without something for the betterment of our health. Bas van Iersel states that, “Today’s readers must be careful not to see this passage..and interpret it as a call for an ascetic way of life that is characterized by self-renunciation or even self contempt.”[1] Rather we must set aside our own focus on self, our own plans for control. We must be willing to be led wholly by God’s self-giving love for the world and in particular those who are poor and vulnerable.
And then Jesus continues, we are to “take up our cross.” The crowd who heard Jesus that day would not have thought in metaphorical terms about Jesus’ call to take up the cross. The cross was an instrument of torture. It was not a kneeling bench or a day or two of fasting. The cross was an instrument of pain, shame, absolute loss and death.
When Jesus picked up his cross, it was to set himself against the Roman Empire and religious authorities, against ideologies that oppressed God’s people, and against everything that prevented the reception of God’s kingdom. He picked up his cross and went to his death. To “take it up” was to become its true victim.
But today when we hear these words in the United States, we do not face the sting of death as those in the First Century or as some do today in other lands. So how are we to hear this call to “take up our cross.” It has too often been heard as referring to the suffering or even the unfairness in our lives, as when a person refers to something as being “a cross I have to bear.” The Jesus in Mark’s Gospel is not calling us to endure life’s travails, but to voluntarily take up a cross, to share in the suffering that comes with following God’s mission on earth. This cross is sacrificial, but it is there for us to choose.
If someone we love becomes critically ill or dies, that is not our cross, that is something we would never choose. That is pain that God does not intend for us. Jesus stands against injustice and innocent suffering.
Taking up the cross means that we choose to stand alongside those who are hungry, or without adequate clothing or shelter, those who are marginalized due to the color of their skin, their legal status as citizens, or who they love, those who are in prison, those who are sick, and those who are held hostage to violence or addiction. In taking up our cross, we are to listen and respond to suffering wherever it occurs. It means to carry in our heart the sorrow of those who are in pain and to pray and act on their behalf whenever possible. It means to love those who are hard to love, to serve others over ourselves, and to seek justice in an unjust world. It is to live for the sake of all of God’s children, in particular those who are most vulnerable.
While most of us will not find it our lot to be called to suffer injury or death for our faith or decision to take up our cross, it does demand that we stand as martyrs. To be a martyr means to be “a witness.” When we take up the cross we do not merely show kindness to others in private, but we stand up, giving public testimony to the truth of what we have seen and heard and proclaiming God’s self-giving passion for the world.
Bishop Doug Fisher contacted me this week to ask about our work in the Berkshires. He wanted to talk about how “taking up the cross” moves us from works of charity, where we send money or food to those in need; to works of service, where we make food and serve it to those who are hungry, or read with children who need help with their learning; to works of advocacy where we speak out to city leaders or those in authority on behalf of young people in our community who are sidelined and treated without dignity; or sign petitions or write letters on behalf of the poor. To take up the cross means putting our very lives where Jesus calls us to follow him into the world.
Jesus’ final teaching is “follow me.” In this we remember our place as followers of Jesus. We are to be behind. We are to watch and listen and follow. As followers of Jesus we are to learn from Jesus. Just as Peter learned, disciples are not to guide, protect, or possess Jesus, they are to follow him.
There will be times when we will hear Jesus’ call to go and times when we are to wait. There will be times when we will be filled with the Holy Spirit and empowered to do the work before us. And there will be times when listening carefully, we will hear that we are to rest—to take a break from.
And there will be many times when Jesus will send laborers to companion us in our work and angels to care for us as we rest and heal together. Jesus does not ask us to take up our cross alone. Trusting in God we can empty ourselves in service to the world in the One who gives us life abundantly.
Lynda Lowery and Clark Olsen heard the cry of suffering in the world and chose to deny themselves, take up their cross and follow Jesus into the struggle for human rights. Many others today whether it be building schools in Haiti or volunteering for service in Africa to end the scourge of Ebola, or finding places of safe shelter to care for people who are without homes, hear this call of Jesus to his disciples. The cost of discipleship is a radical demand. But trusting in the One who gave all in love, we can find that whenever we “do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God” no matter how large or small our actions, we discover that we save our lives and even gain the whole world, not through guarding our lives, but giving our lives away.
Jesus invites us to deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him in bearing his love into the world. Those who agree to carry this love are the followers of Jesus.
To be truly alive
is to be fully, freely, lovingly present
in this moment,
drinking in the grace of God
and pouring myself out in love
for God and for all beings…
I am not a body or a reputation
but a soul.
God of love,
open my door.
Let life spill in
and spill out.
Let me suffer and love,
truly alive.[2]
[1] Bas van Iersel. Mark: A Reader-Response Commentary (trans. W. H. Bisscherous) Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), p. 291.
[2] Steve Garnaas-Holmes. Unfolding Light. www.unfoldinglight.net