The Dance of the Cross

Mark 8:31-38

In these days of anxiety about overseas war and homeland security, I recently read about a vehicle produced in nearby Butler, Pennsylvania (which is about halfway between Grove City and Pittsburgh) that can make your driving experience thoroughly secure.

Ibis Tek produces sport-utility vehicles with a twist: With a flip of a switch, the sunroof opens up and a grenade launcher pops out. If you prefer, you can outfit it with a .50 caliber machine gun instead. An onboard sensor provides both day and night vision, and is linked to a computer display panel along with a joystick to control the weapons system. A nicely-outfitted vehicle will run you about $500,000, not including the weapons, which you have to purchase separately.

Now, before you get your hopes up, I believe these SUV’s are currently illegal to drive in the US. But Ibis Tek has a variety of overseas clients, who wish to remain anonymous; and is likely to pick up a few more in the current international climate.[1]

I must admit that, having read about these SUV’s, the next time I’m being tailgated by a menacing-looking Chevy Suburban, I’m going to check to see what’s on the roof! Are those really just skis?? And while this outrageous vehicle, which its manufacturers describe as purely defensive in nature, is certainly extreme in its level of “security” (not to mention its price tag), I think its design taps into the very human need we all have to feel protected from physical danger.

Putting ourselves into harm’s way does not come naturally; even without investing in something with a machine gun, we search for ways to keep ourselves and our loved ones sheltered from the literal and figurative storms of life.

So it is with understanding and sympathy that we should hear the familiar story in our Gospel today. As Jesus tells his disciples just what lies in store for him, and for them all, Peter refuses to accept this new information, and takes Jesus aside to rebuke him – perhaps, to shake Jesus out of it, is a better way to think of Peter’s actions.  From his perspective, it looks as if Jesus is faltering and needs encouragement. He’s down on himself, taking criticism too harshly.  Surely this moment of weakness will pass, and with a little help from his friends, Jesus can go on to accomplish his mission as newly-identified Messiah.

So Peter takes Jesus aside, not wishing to undermine Jesus' authority with the other disciples – a sensitive gesture on Peter's part – and rebukes Jesus.  Yet he is rebuked in turn: even called “Satan” for his trouble. This has always struck me as awfully harsh.  What a thing to call your friend!

But the name Satan means “tempter.”  Last week we heard about Jesus’ first encounter with the tempter, immediately after his baptism, when he was sent into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit, and had 40 days to contemplate his life and ministry. Mark’s Gospel didn’t tell us much about that meeting with Satan: Matthew and Luke give us the longer, more familiar accounts, with the three trials.               

But the temptations didn’t end out there in the desert. Perhaps Mark is telling us that this is really Jesus’ test: to listen to the people around him, the crowds and even his closest friends, who would have him use his gifts and charisma for political gain, and avoid the cost of the unique ministry to which God had called him[2]. That temptation followed Jesus all the way to Jerusalem, I suspect:     Satan did get behind him, personified in his disciples as long as they resisted and misunderstood the lessons Jesus was trying to teach them.

“Taking up one’s cross” is a difficult thing to accept;      and far too often, that phrase is misconstrued and misused. The crosses we bear are not the difficulties thrown upon us by chance: the unexpected illness or disability, the whining neighbor or burdensome relative, the financial or social circumstances of our lives. Instead, crosses are taken on intentionally and willingly.

Before one can do so, however, one must have a relationship with Jesus, who transformed that device of death into a means of life.   It’s a bit like learning to dance from an expert ballroom dancer, I’m told: You have to forget yourself, stop looking at your feet, and instead get lost in the leadership of your partner and the music that surrounds you both.

At this point I will admit that I am a terrible dancer: I don’t want to give up my own sense of what to do; my mind and body resist giving up control of the dance. I struggle with the cross as well: it is not the path that comes naturally, especially to modern Americans used to controlling their destiny.

Psychiatrist and spiritual director Gerald May, author of classics having wonderful titles like Addiction & Grace and The Awakened Heart, talks about “spiritual surrender,” which I think is inherent in taking up one’s cross.

“[Spiritual surrender] is intentional,” he writes. “It is a free choice.  It may be called forth from one's heart, but it is never forced or compelled in any way.  It involves responsibility for the consequences as well as for the act itself. There can be no blaming of any other person, cause, force or entity. It is not directed toward any fully known object; thus it cannot in any way be a means of furthering one's self-definition or self-importance. It represents a willingness to engage the fullness of life with the fullness of oneself. It cannot be an escape or an avoidance. It must be a yes rather than a no.”[3]

The Yes to which Jesus committed himself, accepting the responsibility and consequences, was the true Messianic role of reconciling all people to God.    In his Father’s divine plan, the way for Jesus to accomplish that purpose was the cross, in one astonishing self-sacrifice entailing utter humiliation, horrific pain and a slowly suffocating death.

Our crosses will be less brutal, I trust and pray; yet not ineffective in the reconciliation of the world. Whenever we surrender our selves, our wills, and our desire for security to God and God’s purposes, the Kingdom comes close and eternal life is revealed in us, for all people.

Father Ross gave us the example of Dietrich Bonhoeffer last week: a deeply faithful Christian who, after much thought and prayer, chose to participate in a murderous plot against Hitler during World War II; and was arrested and executed for his part in the plan. As far as that particular activity went, Bonhoeffer failed. But in the lasting effects of his writings about that decision, what his faith meant and how he needed to take action, his self-offering has inspired thousands of people to this day.

Will you allow Jesus to lead you in the dance, to bring you to a cross and help you lift it upon yourself, carrying it beside you? The first step is letting go, surrendering our control to his gentle guidance. The next step is risking something of ourselves, willingly, for his sake.

This past Friday night, a group of your fellow parishioners and I attended a birthday  party: the tenth birthday of the Safe House, begun by St. Luke’s and eventually, a coalition of agencies, foundations, churches and individuals. Starting the Safe House was a big risk: large amounts of money, time and energy were invested by this congregation. Those who were present then will remember the long road. You knew there was a need; you hoped this would make a difference. And through your commitment and sacrifice, and that of others, many, many young people have known healing and hope.

That, I think, is taking up the cross: knowingly, willingly, risking much because we follow Jesus Christ, who showed us the way,  into danger, perhaps even death, and through to resurrection and new life. For, “those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”

When the opportunity to offer yourself to God next presents itself, I hope you will say Yes, and in the words of Gerald May, “engage the fullness of life with the fullness of yourself.”  When you find an opening to mend a relationship gone sour, for heaven’s sake, go for it.  When you’re presented with a chance to offer hope to a child at risk, or a family in desperate need, do not turn away. When your heart aches and your blood pressure rises because of an injustice staring you right in the face, act on your impulse to pursue righteousness. God has been moving people that way for thousands of  years.

Might things go badly?  There’s always that chance. Aren’t there more profitable ways to spend my time and funds?  Of course. Wouldn’t someone else do a better job than I can? Perhaps; and Satan would have you believe it all.

But do not let him tempt you from your calling, from your true identity as Christ’s own child, his dance partner, and fellow agent of reconciliation in the world today.