Proper 17A 2020
Matthew 16:21-28
The Rev. Dr. Kathy Kelly
I will with God’s help.
I often want to remind us of that oath we take whenever we celebrate the liturgy of Confirmation. Maybe people don’t care much any more about oaths or Confirmation for that matter. Maybe we are losing something important about being members of the church and committing ourselves to the Church - big C - and to the larger meaning of joining Jesus in The Way of Love.
I will with God’s help.
But that is what we say when we stand up and take that oath.
I was once asked to serve on the Zoning Commission in a small town where I lived and for some reason the only time they could schedule a meeting with the mayor for the installation of new commissioners was on a Sunday afternoon. This particular Sunday was a bishop’s visitation so I showed up rushed and tired for this civic meeting after a full morning at Confirmation.
When the mayor asked me to raise my hand and agree to an oath of office he read a lengthy list of what I was committing to and when he finished the whole room gathered expected me to simply say, “I do.” But I said instead, “I will with God’s help!”
This got a chuckle from the crowd and a smile from the mayor who suggested we should change the oath since we could all use a little help from God in our civid duties too.
So to this day I often think about this oath and remind anyone who will listen that we all once stood before the crowd and announced our intention to follow Jesus.
I will with God’s help.
Today we have two stories of strife in faith. Moses and Peter both get it wrong to some degree but they also both got it right. They both took a leap of faith, they both tried to name God, and they both tried to understand and to follow God, so they both learned good lessons from the ride. Even though it may have been a scary and difficult ride.
I learned a new word this week from Dictionary.com. It is a literary term much like the word paraprosdokian which I shared with you last year. Paraprosdokian describes a certain play on words that makes a joke out of double meanings like, Groucho Marx’s “I shot and elephant in my pajamas this morning. How he got in my pajamas I’ll never know.”
This week’s grammar lesson is the word: epizeuxis [ ep-i-zook-sis ]. Don’t ask me how to spell it. It has a z in the middle, the middle syllable is z-e-u-x to be exact. You probably wouldn’t remember the rest so you’ll have to look it up later if you want to learn this word.
Epizeuxis is a noun which is defined like this: “a literary or rhetorical device that appeals to or invokes the listener’s emotions through the repetition of words in quick succession.” Epizeuxis.
This immediately made me think of preaching. Some styles of preaching, especially in the African American tradition use repetition to help people connect to the Bible story in an emotional way. I love the meter, rhyme and repetition of words and phrases used in that style of preaching.
A great example is Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech in which he repeated the phrase, “I have a dream” until we all shared that dream. ( All of us who were listening, anyway.)
I also love that preaching in charismatic traditions is interactive. The people shout “amen” and hum and sway and it feels more like a conversation, a dialogue.
We don’t usually do that in this part of the Episcopal Church.
In the past century of the White, mainline tradition, no one would dare speak while the preacher is speaking. This comes from a tradition of valuing solemnity which is a good thing too. As a preacher I suppose I have to admit I like it that way, to preach with no interruptions, but when I was a teenager I didn’t.
I started really listening to the preacher, probably for the first time, when I was about 14 and I found what he was saying interesting and worthy of further study and dialogue.
One Sunday I raised my hand during the sermon hoping he would field a question like teachers did in school. He ignored me, if he even noticed. My mom quickly grabbed my arm and brought it down. I felt sort of silenced. I just wanted dialogue.
If we were to have some dialogue in our sermons at Grace this month, it might be interesting.
Last Sunday Deacon Greene reminded us that life is full of experiences like roller coasters with ups and downs and surprises and he likened this to my announcement the prior week of my resignation and call to another parish.
Jon is right. My leaving in the middle of COVID quarantine feels like the bottom has fallen out in the way that it feels when that roller coaster tips the peak and starts barreling down hill. He is also right to remind us that a life in faith is meant to guide us through the ups and downs of life.
I told Jon after the service on the lawn last Sunday that I would add something more to his metaphor. I don’t think he disagreed.
I loved the metaphor, though I hate roller coasters, so maybe I’m not one to play the critic, but there is a tradition among roller coaster riders, one which I hardly understand, in which you throw your hands in the air at the top of the peak. I told Jon this looks like some sort of crazy expression of joy. Right when you want to cling to the structures around you, you trust your seat belt enough to throw your hands in the air.
What would it be like for us to be so grounded in our faith that we could even find joy in the most extreme moments of turmoil?
In this story from Exodus, Moses dialogues with God on Mt. Horeb. It takes a burning bush to get Moses’ attention. That’s pretty scary. As scary as a roller coaster at least. Moses says, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see…” At which point, God calls out to Moses from the bush.
When Moses pauses and turns away from where he was looking and toward the sight of this burning bush, that is when God speaks to him. That is like staring down the source of your fear.
God tells Moses that he will go back to Egypt and tell the Pharoah to release the Hebrew people, and Moses tells God that he needs to know God’s name. Given that he is going to assert God’s power against the pantheon of Egyptian deities, Moses needs a name – he thinks.
Instead of a name, God gives him a glimpse of reality. YHWH, which is more of a verb than a noun in Hebrew, moving and alive. “I am who I am,” God tells Moses. Or, I will be who I will be. Living, moving, dynamic, flowing. With this insight into God’s very being, Moses returns to Egypt and leads his people out of bondage.
There is also a lot of dialogue in today’s Gospel lesson. This is the way rabbi’s taught and still teach - though I think you would be remiss to raise your hand during a sermon in a synagogue too. But dialogue is the best way to learn.
So Jesus asked them, who do you say that I am, instead of just telling them the answer he lets them grapple with the question. That’s good teaching.
“As they walked in the region of Caesarea Philippi, Peter and the disciples pondered Jesus’ question: “Who do you say that I am?” Not limiting himself to the options offered by “others,” Peter proclaimed his answer: Jesus is the Messiah, the son of the living God.
Peter got it right. But in the very next instant, Peter gets it wrong. Wrong enough, Jesus suggests, for him to be in league with Satan.
Both of these stories bring to mind the temptations of glory.
In a recent sermon I used a sort of throw away line in which I suggested it is best to look at the glory later and simply pray first, then act. This was in the context of reminding you that Jesus usually went off alone to pray before the big miracles so we too should pray first, act later and look at the glory later.
But we tend to start with the glory. We look for power and influence and security in most of our seeking. Moses might have said, “Oh joy! I’ve found a lottery ticket with a big pay off! God himself is speaking to me! I’ll be rich and famous!”
Peter seems to have been drawn along that same line when he names Jesus as the Messiah and then tries to talk Jesus out of the sacrifice. Perhaps he can’t help thinking that his close association with the Messiah will right all that is wrong about the world.
But Jesus’ announcement of the death-dealing events about to unfold in Jerusalem point to anything but the glory of security, influence, or power. What about the new church, and its authority to bind and to loose? What about withstanding the power of death (“the gates of Hades”)? How can these things happen if God’s own anointed one is to be tortured and executed?!
No wonder Peter protests. “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you!” Jesus’ response is swift and to the point: “Get behind me, Satan!”
Jesus refused the glory of security, influence, or power. Instead of hoarding bread made from stones to relieve his own empty stomach, he fed the hungry multitudes (Matthew 14:17-21; 15:33-38). Instead of claiming the privileges of Sonship to call on God’s angels for his own benefit, he used his privilege to save, heal, and restore the lives of sick and marginalized persons. Instead of grasping after worldly varieties of power and authority, he opened the kingdom of the heavens to all who would follow after him in the way of righteousness.
Instead.
Instead.
Instead.
There’s na ep-i-zook-sis for this sermon. Instead.
Jesus says instead a lot. Maybe not by using this particular word or that but he insists on the concept of change. Instead of acting this way, turn around and act this way. Instead of thinking this way, think that way. Instead of believing this way, believe that way.
He does repeat the word repentance, over and over again, which literally means “turn around.”
So friends, how can we, on this day practice this flipped around way of Jesus? Can we learn to forgo glory and power and even our sense of security and make the sacrifice of following Jesus? Can we let go of our comforts and options and turn around and join this Way of Love? Can we learn to pray first and act later? Can we recognize the holiness of the very ground we walk on or the splendidness of even the cross? Can we dare to throw our hands into the air in joy when all around us seems like chaos and fills us with fear?
We can with God’s help.
We can with God’s help.
We can with God’s help.
Amen.