· Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16
· Psalm 22:23-31 (27)
· Romans 4:13-25
· Mark 8:31-38
This is, in my opinion, one of the most important gospel readings. The true nature of Jesus, transubstantiation versus consubstantiation, virgin birth or no, all that fancy theology is of theoretical interest, but does not change how we actually live our lives as Christians. This does. In fact, this is one of the few texts that changes everything, because Jesus defines what we Lutherans call "theology of the cross."
Listen: "if any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me."
That's all. That's almost all you need to know. Three steps.
Step one: deny ourselves.
Typically we understand this as denying ourselves something. Food, strong drink, fornication, whatever. But when you look at it, just as it's written, that's not what it says. It says "deny ourselves." I hear this: stop making so much of ourselves. Stop telling ourselves that we're worthy, beautiful and important. In reality, none of us is a beautiful or unique snowflake. We are all part of the same compost heap. Many people like to tell each other that we are each beautiful and valuable to God. That may be; yet none of us can claim to be more valuable and beautiful to God than the next.
This winter, one of my lemon trees was dying. It spent all winter slowly dying of salt toxicity, and it took me all winter to figure out what it was and how to treat it. So when I ran out of ideas, I just prayed. I did not ask God to save my lemon tree, I just laid hands on it and recited psalms and prayers, once or twice a day. After many weeks, when the tree had no leaves left and just one branch, new growing tips appeared on the trunk. Hallelujah! I thought. Praise the Lord! My tree is alive! And then I asked myself, did God save my tree? So I brought this up at the Roman Catholic Bible study group, and someone said to me "you have faith and you like to pray, but your problem is, you don't believe that you are important to God and what matters to you matters to him." Well, that's one theory. But that's a theory of glory. If I matter enough to God that he saved a lemon tree for me, why does my friend not matter enough for God to save her seven-year-old son from cancer? That's ridiculous. Such a theory can only lead people away from God.
When we deny ourselves, we do not say that we are important, beautiful, valuable, unique, and most of all, entitled to demand material benefits from God and receive them. We are important to God, exactly as much as the next person or the insect larva crawling in the walls. What we deny ourselves, as theologians of the cross, is pride. We deny ourselves glory. We deny ourselves ego. We deny ourselves "feeling good about ourselves", whatever that even means. That's step one: stop making much of ourselves.
Step two: take up our cross.
What does that mean, exactly? That's not a common idiom. It's not like "make like a tree", for example. And this is written in hindsight. Did Jesus actually say "take up your cross", or does the author of Mark remember it that way or even edit it that way because of what happened later? I suppose we may understand it to mean "take up the same task I took upon myself."
So let's consider the cross, metaphorically. In reality, Jesus did not carry the cross itself but the patibulum, which is the horizontal beam. It would have been about five or six feet long, to accommodate a man's arm span, and it had to have been quite thick, to take the size nail that was used. It couldn't be a 2 x 4, for example, because that would have split. So to eyeball it, I'm thinking something like eight by eight inches, and it would probably be hardwood, judging by the trees that grow in Jerusalem. So that would give it a weight of maybe 90 lbs. That's a rather hefty piece of wood. Most people I know can't lift 90 lbs at all, let alone carry it some distance, up a hill, barefoot and bleeding. Jesus was a construction worker himself and would have been quite used to carrying big chunks of wood, but even so, he couldn't pack the thing all the way by himself.
Now consider how we re-enact this today. I see processions coming out of churches with a gigantic cardboard cross being carried like... exactly what it is: an almost weightless prop. And everyone is processing with it, smiling and chatting happily.
Pardon my language, but what the FUCK is that supposed to mean? That's a theology-of-glory type of cross. It's weightless and the people who walk with it are all pleased to be seen engaging in their meritorious conduct. That's not at all what the real cross walk was like. I defy any one of you to walk a block carrying a 90-lb chunk of wood. Let alone up a hill to your death.
The cross is painful and crushing, both physically and emotionally. When Jesus tells us to "take up our cross", there is nothing, but nothing, that is pleasant about it. Jesus is not offering us any kind of reward. Not jobs, not money, not good health, not the respect of the villagers. Jesus is telling us to take up a crushing burden for his sake. That is theology of the cross. All the prayers for loot and health are theology of glory.
Step three: follow Jesus.
Where to? As Thomas said, we do not know the way. And as Jesus answered, he, Jesus, is the way, the truth and the life. Well, that's not really an answer. And that's right. We follow Jesus, we don't know where to. We follow Jesus because he is the way – to the Father, to salvation, to what? Maybe to nothing. Maybe the journey is the destination. Maybe Jesus is not leading us to anywhere in particular; what matters is the process. What matters is that we follow. He guides us along right pathways. He leads us beside still waters. And he leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. Does it matter where? What matters is that we follow.
Theologians of glory know where they're going. They're going to be rich, healthy and popular. If it hasn't happened yet, it's because they haven't prayed enough or had a personal relationship with Jesus or whatever. If they're going through hardship, it's because God is testing them or something. Something like "if he brings you to it, he'll bring you through it" or "he won't give you more than you can handle." As an after-thought, the theologian of glory may remember that there is also salvation to be had, which is to say, after you get everything you want in this life by asking God "in Jesus's name" or something, you get... well, I'm not sure exactly what meaning salvation can possibly have when you're already getting everything you want on earth. Maybe it's a way to reconcile our material wealth to the fact that Jesus had no use for the rich. We're gonna be rich, because God blesses us, and then we're also gonna go to "Heaven" despite being rich, because God is gonna forgive us for being rich.
That doesn't even make any sense at all, does it?
Theology of glory makes no sense. You cannot build a rational argument on it, you cannot build your life on it, you cannot build your church congregation on it. And it patently contradicts Jesus. God won't give you more than you can handle? Darn right he will. That's exactly what he just said: take up your cross. A real cross is definitely more than you can handle. If anyone tells you that by following Jesus you will have an easy time on earth, they're theologians of glory. They are setting their mind not on divine things but on human things. So you can say to them, "get behind me, Satan!" And then deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Jesus. Wherever that may lead you.
Praise be to God, the Subduer, the Withholder, the Abaser, the Afflicter, the Most Kind.
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