Mark 8:31-38
Today’s gospel, presents us with the first of Jesus’ passion predictions in the Gospel of Mark – “that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.”
I’ve read this text a hundred times and preached on it more than once, but for whatever reason, as I prepared for this morning’s sermon, our second verse – verse 32 – caught my attention. “He said all this quite openly.” I don’t know if it’s the phrasing or what. It just struck me as an odd detail to make note of. He said all this quite openly. Though, as it turns out, it caught my attention for good reason.
With a bit of research, I found that the Greek verb παρρησία (parrésia) – translated as “spoke opening” – isn’t found anywhere else in any of our synoptic gospels… Not one other place… Just here… This is it… Nowhere else in Mark. Not one single time in Matthew or Luke.
Out of everything Jesus preached and taught… out of everything he discussed with his disciples… it was his crucifixion, Mark records, in this moment, that Jesus spoke openly about… Why? Out of all things…
Bible scholars in their various forms are quick to point out, that Jesus’ prediction of his death to come, immediately follow Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ – as the Messiah… Some preachers choose to include those verses as a part of today’s reading… That, it’s with this confession from Peter – “You are the Messiah” – and only with this confession… Jesus believes his disciples are ready to know what following him is all about… Speaking openly – it’s about going to the cross… not just for him, but too, for those who follow him… for Peter and the other disciples… for us… for you and me…
This past week, a hundred some people gathered throughout this building to say farewell to our brother in Christ, Don Bair – to celebrate his life and to support each other in our grief.
Those who were here for the service – besides being tortured by the pastor’s unwell Darth Vader voice – heard me reflect on a bit of the suffering that Don had faced throughout his life. It was hard, with today’s gospel, not to think about Don when preparing this weekend’s sermon. Many of you, who’ve been around, are familiar, at least in part, with Don’s story.
For today’s purposes, a story that began on the eve of July 11, 1976 – the end of a seemingly normal, uneventful, day… Life was good. Don and his wife Jean probably would have said it was as good as it gets. Two young parents with a beautiful family, traveling down the road in their station wagon. The windows down, a cool breeze coming through to relieve the heat and humidity of a Central Pennsylvania Summer… a bit of music on the radio… Unbeknownst to them, in an instant, everything would change… life, never to be the same again…
As they rightly made their way through an intersection, an individual with no business being on the road in their current condition, went through them – missing the red light in front of her all together… Don and Jean’s two young daughters – Heather, and Debbie – flown from the car, dead in an instant. Their son Alex, who many of us have come to know and love, suffering a traumatic head injury that would forever change his life. These two young parents, barely able to pick up themselves, left to pick up the pieces… doing all they could to hold things together…
A few years back, shortly before Don and Jean moved into Paramount, I went out to their old farmhouse for a visit. While I was there, Don took me for a walk around the property – including this little piece, adjacent to the house, he had used to train his turkeys to play follow the leader. He was proud of the life he and Jean had built. And rightfully so…
As we walked, we talked. Well, Don talked… I listened… Once I had built up enough courage, I asked Don about the accident. After a brief pause – long enough for the pastor to wonder if he had made a mistake in asking the question – Don began to talk about the day…
He talked about how he and Jean, once they came to following the collision and gathered their bearings a bit… after seeing Alex was breathing… attempted CPR on the girls – who were not – until the EMT’s arrived on the scene… He talked about making sense of the news that the girls had not survived… and what it was like, coming to the realization of what the accident would mean for Alex moving forward… And then he talked about what it all would mean for him and Jean – they could let it destroy what life they had left… or they could find a way to live through it…
There are a lot of things people speak opening about in today’s world. Just spend five minutes scrolling through your Facebook feed and you’ll know exactly what I mean… People will speak openly, just about anything – many, about things that people shouldn’t speak about at all… at least outside the privacy of their own head…
But Jesus? Out of everything he could speak openly about – he speaks about the cross. About his crucifixion. About the suffering he would soon undergo, in order to bring life to the world. And he is clear, that those who seek to follow him, follow him to the cross… each of us called to suffer for the sake of others…
I noted at Don’s funeral, that there is a belief within Judaism, one that Jesus would certainly have been aware of, that regardless of the details of our suffering – what caused it, what it looks like, how great it is – the response to suffering, is to be mercy… mercy toward community, mercy toward family, and mercy toward oneself… Mercy…
In less than five weeks’ time, we will gather here in a darkened worship space for Good Friday, in order to hear Christ’s passion he predicts this morning. As the evening goes on, the room will get darker and darker as candles that adorn the altar are extinguished. Once Jesus has breathed his last and given up his Spirit, the Christ Candle will leave, and we will sit in total darkness for a time as we hear those haunting words – Were You There? We will tremble as the spiritual calls us… Some of us – the pastor included – will shed a few tears… We will reflect on the suffering… But then, the Christ Candle will return and be placed back upon the altar. And amidst the suffering, amidst the tears and sadness, God will extend mercy. Light will break in. A glimmer of hope. Life in the face of death.
As we journey to the cross this season of lent, know that suffering is part of what we are called to endure. Not simply for the sake of suffering, but for the sake of a world in need.
Deny yourself of those things that get in the way of the life Christ calls you to live. Give of what you have, sacrificing for those in want.
Show mercy toward your community. Show mercy to your family. And when you fall short… when you miss the mark… when you just can’t let go of a mistake you have made – show mercy to yourself.
And in all things, above everything else, speak openly about Christ, him crucified and risen. For where he is, no matter how great the suffering, the rejection you may face, no matter how dark things may get, where He is – light and life always breaks in. Amen.
~Pastor Andrew Geib
Sermons at St. James Gettysburg 