March 8, 2009 - Lent 2 (RCL)
If you’ve been watching Letterman this week
or Access Hollywood
you’ll know
that something momentous happened in the entertainment world.
The new U2 album
was released on Tuesday.
It’s been 4 years
since “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb” came out,
an album full
of religious references.
The new one, “No Line on the Horizon”
at first hearing seems to be a more traditional rock’n’roll album,
loud and full of energy and love songs.
But then you listen again,
and discover down a layer
that this is gospel music
and from the self offering of “Magnificent”
to the words we know so well, “God is love,” quoted in “Stand Up Comedy,”
faith is woven through and through this music.
And perhaps most arrestingly
in the ballad “White as snow.”
It’s a very different sound from the rest of the album, quiet, introspective.
It’s Bono imagining the thoughts
of a soldier dying
from a roadside bomb in Afghanistan.
At the musical heart is the melody of a hymn we know well,
“Oh Come, O Come, Emmanuel,”
a hymn for Advent,
and you know that the Advent season is one that traditionally
focusses on the themes of death, judgement, heaven and hell.
And in Advent
we look not only to the coming of Jesus Christ at Christmas,
but to his coming at the end of time,
a coming that we likely will only experience
after our death,
a coming
that we hear about in the book of Revelation
with its visions of Jesus, lamb of God,
who takes away the sin of the world.
And back to the song,
"Once I knew there was a love divine
Then came a time I thought it knew me not
Who can forgive forgiveness where forgiveness is not
Only the lamb as white as snow"1
In this song
we turn
to face death.
In uncertainty, in fear.
It’s hard.
And it was with these words echoing in my head
that I read our gospel today.
I’d always read it before
with a kind of derision and disbelief.
How could Peter be so stupid?
How could he be so naive?
It was only a minute ago, the way Mark tells it, that he made the astounding declaration of faith, “You are the Messiah!”
But when Jesus begins to explain
what being the Messiah means,
that it will mean suffering and rejection and death, even though he adds the bit about resurrection,
Peter sticks his fingers in his ears, like a six year old who doesn’t want to listen to his parents’ rules. “Lah lah lah, I don’t want to hear it, lah lah lah. You’re wrong. Lah lah lah.”
As if not hearing
would mean
it wasn’t true.
I suspect
that Peter’s idea of a Messiah
was very different. He was looking for the kind of Messiah
who would come to rule in great power and glory, one whose followers
would be caught up in it all.
That was the whole point of following, right? That if you stuck with him in the beginning, you’d reap the rewards in the end?
He’s excited,
he’s caught the vision,
the vision of a kingdom of God
where all hurts are healed and
the poor and powerless are lifted up
and tears are wiped away
forever!
And then it all comes
crashing down.
Jesus tells the disciples
that he’s going to die.
And not just die, but be killed,
after suffering and being rejected.
Resurrection
doesn’t soften it.
There’s no triumphant glorious reign.
No rewards for the followers.
This isn’t what Peter signed up for, or at least not what he thought.
And you can almost see the emotions flying across Peter’s face.
Fear. Doubt. Anger.
This is the one
who has been healing people;
this is the one that is so loved by the crowds, that he can barely get a moment alone to pray;
this is the one
who raised Jairus’ daughter
from death.
Suffering? Rejection? Death?
It makes no sense.
Jesus has grabbed his shoulders
and turned him around
to face the thing
he least wants to face.
Death.
Jesus’ death,
and then his own.
Because Jesus moves from his own death
to talk about his followers.
If you want to save your life, he tells them, you’ll lose it, and only by losing it
will you save it.
that’s what being a disciple means.
Because he begins by talking about taking up your cross,
we assume
that it’s all a metaphor, because we don’t imagine being a Christian
means dragging around
a big wooden cross.
And so we assume
that his words about death
are not literal either.
But what if Jesus isn’t changing the subject
from suffering and death
to a nice discussion about how we Christians have to be willing to put up
with a few hardships.
What if he’s making a connection between his death
and ours?
Perhaps he’s saying
that following him
is in large part
about facing up to death,
It’s about not making an idol
out of life,
life at all costs.
And sometimes
that’s what we’re tempted
to do.
We know the story.
Jesus dies.
Jesus is raised.
And the very fact of the resurrection
allows us
to somehow almost overlook the death.
We are like Peter.
Life
is what we’re about.
And so when it comes time
for the end of Lent,
it’s so easy
to skip right from Palm Sunday
to Easter Day.
After all, Good Friday is a work day
and so it’s not very convenient to go to church.
But when we do that, we miss out
on the death of Jesus.
And it’s that death
that is so important.
Because that death
puts our death
into perspective.
A death that means
that we don’t need
to be so afraid of death.
Afraid of the process of dying, yes,
afraid of the pain it will cause our families and friends, yes,
but of dying itself, no.
Because of Jesus’ death
love divine
recognizes us.
Because of Jesus’ death
we are forgiven.
the lamb of God
who washes us white as snow.
Because of Jesus’ death
we have hope of life eternal.
A couple of weeks ago I heard
that a friend of mine
had signed the papers
to receive hospice care.
Her cancer began a couple of years ago, with a large and supposedly benign tumor in her liver;
it was just a few months ago that they discovered more tumors, and began heavy duty chemo.
Two months ago
she was still planning to travel this year,
a last trip
to England;
but she is home now, bedridden and frail,
surrounded by friends
and the company of her cat.
There is no time for that last vacation.
Death is coming,
and she has turned to face it.
And it is a gift to us, her friends.
We too
face the inevitability, and the nearness
of her death.
We’re sad, and angry, and struggling,
but her quiet grace in this time
sustains us.
Last week, two friends took her the Eucharist,
the body and blood of Christ,
the sacrament
in which we proclaim Christ’s death
until he comes.
And we share that with her,
the promise
of Christ's death,
the promise
that we are known by God,
the promise
of life beyond this life,
the promise of
being washed as white as snow.
Turning to face death
is never easy,
as Peter
and Jesus
and my friend Diana
well know.
But our faith sustains us. Our faith gives us hope.
So that the desolation of the voice in the song
is transformed,
still sadness but sadness
tempered by hope.
"Once I knew there was a love divine
Then came a time I thought it knew me not
Who can forgive forgiveness where forgiveness is not
Only the lamb as white as snow"1
1 U2, "White as Snow," from No Line on the Horizon, ©2009.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2009