As I consider the task of preaching on Matthew 16:21-28, I have decided to offer several thoughts on parts of the appointed gospel reading rather than one piece in hopes that one or more of them might serve as starting points for your own reflection as to how this gospel is good news for all of us and for all of creation.
21From that time on, [after Peter confessed that Jesus was the Messiah,] Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.
In the first verse, we might be drawn to the phrase: “… suffering at the hands of …” As Jesus seemed to know that he would suffer at the hands of the religious leaders of his time, we also know that God’s creation is suffering at the hands of God’s very own creatures. At this point, you would have to go to great lengths to convince yourself that humans are not somehow complicit in the current climate crisis. Some to whom we preach and many with whom we share our lives are doing just that; denying either the crisis or our participation in it, or both. Perhaps when we personally recognize and share in the earth’s great suffering will we be able to confess our part in its cause. Then, as part of our repentance, we might begin to seek real ways to be part of the healing of creation.
The good news in this verse is that, although there is great suffering, and even death, there is also the prediction and the promise of resurrection, which we know in Christ, trust for ourselves, and hope for the creation. The good news is that, in recognizing the suffering and death of creation, the Spirit might move us to repent of the ways we are complicit in it and move us to amend our self-indulgent appetites and ways.
22And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” 23But he turned and said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.”
In the gospel appointed for last week (Ordinary Time 21 A), Jesus asked: “Who do you say that I am?” and Peter answered: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:15, 16). Now that Peter and the rest of the disciples know who Jesus really is — that he is the Christ and not just the reincarnation of John the Baptist or Elijah or Jeremiah or one of the other prophets — Jesus begins to show them what that really means for himself, and for them.
And of course, rejection, suffering, and death wasn’t what the disciples had in mind for the Messiah. We can’t blame Peter for disagreeing with or disapproving of Jesus’ passion prediction here. The chosen king who has come to bring peace and freedom to this world should be welcomed and respected by all, and especially by the religious leaders who, of all people, should gladly recognize and receive him as God’s anointed one.
In The Selfless Way of the Cross, Henri Nouwen writes: “The great paradox which scripture reveals to us is that real and total freedom is only found in downward mobility. The Word of God came down to us and lived among us as a slave. The divine way is indeed the downward way.”
The Christ confessed by Peter is the one the early Christians would sing about as the one who “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:7, 8). This downward divinity of Jesus is not the exception, but the example of true humanity he gives to the church, which we in turn can offer as a model for the world. It’s a counter-cultural model where living with less and on less is not only more sustainable for the environment, but for each of us as individuals physically, mentally, and spiritually.
24Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 25For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. 26For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? 27For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. 28Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”
The good news here is that sometimes what brings us life is painful, until we actually go through it, and the pain is transformed. In the difficult act of letting go of what we think is a good and meaningful life, we finally realize the joy of being set free from what was actually holding us back from experiencing it. The call to discipleship — which is (discere) literally about learning — is not at all an abstract philosophical pursuit. Jesus calls us into discipleship by inviting us to follow him into this downward mobility, this denial of self and cross carrying, so that we will lose our lives to find them.
We learn the way of Jesus by doing it, which is how I see EcoFaith ministry happening in our parish. Until we started doing it, it was at best a council discussion about its merits or for some, just another liberal talking point. But last year some dreams turned into plans for a pollinator plot and a Monarch Way Station and this year the shovels went into an 11’ x 66’ plot of difficult-to-mow grass. Almost overnight, an unremarkable patch of lawn became not just a topic of generative conversation, but it was an opportunity for people to serve in the church in new ways (watering and weeding rather than reading or ushering). This ministry has become a point of pride for our congregation to serve as a demonstration plot for the community. In letting go of what we think it looks like, or should look like, we learn that living out the gospel can look like creating and cultivating a small sanctuary for bugs, butterflies, bees, and birds.
Considering the gospel life of following Jesus into unremarkable acts of service and sacrificial love, it’s quite a contrast with those who, as Jesus says in the gospel, “gain the whole world but forfeit their life.” It’s easy to be confounded by, and critical of, the wealthiest people who control most of the resources and power in a world where so many suffer in poverty. But we know that Jesus wasn’t speaking to that specific group, or even to the extremely wealthy, or even the comfortable of his or any other time. He’s talking to any and all of us who put anything else over following him, and who make excuses for ourselves when we do it. Jesus speaks plainly to all of us who want to preserve our own control or comfort at the expense of others’ suffering, including that of the earth, our common home.
Meta Herrick Carlson wrote a litany of confession for the church in her book, Speak It Plain. It’s almost too honest for use in public liturgy if there is such a thing. But I have used it as a private examination of conscience, and could imagine it being useful as an aid in a group’s intentional discussion of corporate repentance. She writes in part:
“We confess our fear of being changed
by death and resurrection,
our firm grip on our own ways,
our dangerous adoration
for what we have built on earth.
Have mercy on us, O God.
We confess that we prefer
our slow denial and dissolution
and a false sense of control
to the voice of Jesus, who speaks it plain:
If you’re going to follow me,
let go of who you have been,
the power you’ve had,
your definition of success,
your aspirational sense of self.
Gather the things that are real
and come with me.
because if you spend this life
trying to save it, you will lose it.
But if you let go of this life
for my sake, you will finally find it.”
Henri Nouwen; The Selfless Way of Christ: Downward Mobility and the Spiritual Life, pages 29-30. Orbis Books, 2007.
Meta Herrick Carlson; Speak It Plain: Words for Worship and Life Together, pages 91-93. Fortress Press, 2002.