The Second Sunday of Lent

8th March 2009 Sung Eucharist

Preacher: The Revd John Chynchen

Readings: Genesis 17. 1-7, 15-16; Romans 4.13-end; Mark 8. 31-end

It is said that we all have a cross to bear and there are an awful lot of people who will tell you that some have a bigger cross to bear than others.

Obviously this phrase is based on the experience of Jesus which we read about in the New Testament. Jesus had been offered a mission to complete by God the Father, and he had accepted that mission. His task was to replace the kingdom of man with the kingdom of God. Of course, those who profited from the kingdom of man were not going to take kindly to this idea. They were not going to sit back and let the new world of God replace their lucrative old world and Jesus knew this. He didn’t need to be a prophet to work out that the path he was travelling would lead, sooner or later, to his execution and the most employed form of execution at that time was crucifixion. He is, therefore, able to use the imagery of the cross in his teachings quite early on in his ministry.

Alternatively, perhaps Jesus didn’t know how his earthly life would end. Perhaps, our reading this morning, for example, does not contain the words of Jesus but has, instead, been invented by the Gospel writer to indicate how the early church interpreted the life and death of their Lord and Saviour. It matters little if it is. What is important is that, in the light of the crucifixion of Christ and the subsequent experience of the early Church, the statement is true. If we want to be Christians, followers of Christ, we do have to take up our cross just as Jesus had to take up his. So, what does it mean, to take up our cross? Let’s take a look at what it meant for Jesus.

Firstly, the cross of Christ was a physical reality. He was no false martyr bemoaning some exaggerated offence against his character or person. His cross, traditionally those two pieces of crudely assembled wood, would be used to kill him. He had to physically carry his load through the streets of Jerusalem and up to his place of execution and we are shown in the Passion narrative that his cross was a heavy burden...so heavy that he needed help to carry it. Orthodox Christianity has always insisted in the reality of Christ’s torture and execution. It is not just a metaphor for some spiritual truth. In fact, for many of us Christians for whom the incarnation of God in man is of the utmost importance, there would be no salvation without the birth and death of a real, flesh and blood, messiah.

Secondly, as well as the physical reality of the cross there was also an emotional reality. There was the emotion inside of Christ. His despair, his feelings of desolation that were revealed to the world in the Garden of Gethsemane, his anger, his knowledge that he had been betrayed by both one particular friend and the whole world. But there was also the emotion...being spat at — in his face — by the crowd who had turned against him...great hatred, anger, disappointment. The emotional burden that Jesus carried to his execution was, most probably, far heavier than the wood of his physical burden.

Thirdly, the cross was a burden in the sense that it was Christ’s duty to carry it. Once Jesus had accepted his mission there was no honourable option for him other than to carry the cross. His being and his duty were one. If Jesus had turned his back on the cross and walked away he would have been walking away from himself. He would no longer be himself.

Jesus is the example par excellence for the Christian life. Although many who call themselves Christian still cling on to written laws, true followers of Christ follow Saint Paul’s teaching, free themselves from the obsolete human law and base their lives on the teaching, attitude and actions of Jesus Christ. One of Christ’s main teachings is that his followers must take up their own cross. It’s a command: Deny yourself and take up your cross. Jesus never hides stuff in the small print of the contract, he doesn’t work for a bank, he doesn’t hide the bit that says that the interest rates can be increased to 39% per annum without warning or explanation whenever they feel like it. No, he is always upfront about the terms and conditions of our Christian employment.

So, if we want to be followers of Jesus we have to grab a cross of own and because Jesus is our example, our cross will be similar to the cross of Christ. I’m not saying that we should be happy to accept our burden. I’m not saying we should want to carry it. Such attitudes would be perverse. But I am saying that we should be willing to carry it and be proud that it is the cross of Christ.

For many thousands of Christians over the last 2000 years their cross of Christ has almost been a literal one and they have met their deaths proclaiming his gospel. Fortunately, those of us living and working in what are still Christian friendly societies do not face such dangers to any extent. But, even so, beyond the essential cross of discipleship, it is usual for our cross to contain an element of a physical nature. Maybe illness or caring for somebody who is old or ill. Maybe poverty or unemployment. Maybe you will be asked to live and work in a unappealing or dangerous situation, at home or abroad. Sometimes we choose such things for ourselves. Sometimes they just happen.

One thing I have noticed about the burden of Christianity is that it often involves being pushed to the margins of society. This can be accidental, as in the case of someone caring for a relative who becomes cut off from friends and activities. It might be chosen as in the person who goes to work with children in a village in Rwanda. Or it may be because of hatred or fear — perhaps a mix of both — as in the case of the foreigner in a strange land or a person who suffers from a mental illness.

We should not be surprised that the cross we carry will propel us to the margins of society. Jesus spent much of his ministry among the marginalised. the poor of his own community; the foreigner in his land...the hated Samaritans; the sick; the sinners; women and children. And then, when he was condemned to death, when he himself was as far outside of society as you could possibly get, he is taken to a hill to be crucified and placed between two thieves. Two outsiders of the lowest rank. Jesus ministers to them even as he is dying.

We have all had crosses to bear in the past and it is almost certain we will have others in the future. Illness, abuse, sorrow, family duties, fear. The list seems endless. Inevitably, we find ourselves asking what used to be called — before inflation — the sixty thousand dollar question. Does God impose these, sometimes unbearable, burdens upon us?

My answer to that question is a definite “no.” For God to do so, he would have to contradict everything that Jesus told us about God, his relationship with us and his feelings, towards us. Our burdens are as much part of life as our DNA.

If we look around and tot up the circumstantial evidence...natural disasters, famine, incessant wars, a child’s life snatched away by cancer, it is easy to conclude that God just sits back and lets the world go its own way...that he will not or cannot intervene in his creation. Essentially, our Christian hope is embedded in the redemptive process. Of course, the death and resurrection of Christ are the most perfect examples of how God redeems his people, but, I believe we also encounter redemption in everyday lives...despite a careless tendency to pass it off as a series of coincidence. If we allow him to, God will take even our most painful experiences and find something in them that will bring his kingdom just a little into sharper focus.

There are many ways that this happens. But one of the main benefits of personal suffering is that we can become more equipped to come alongside others and be with them in their pain.

Earlier I spoke of Jesus, in the gospel, identifying with the people at the margins of society. One of the most bigoted things about the mentally ill that has ever been written was a Jasper Carrott sketch “Nutter on the bus” shown on television in the UK over thirty years ago. In the sketch Jasper complained about how, every time he sat down on a bus, a mentally ill person would always choose to sit down next to him. It was, obviously the last thing that Jasper Carrott wanted to happen and, to be honest, it’s probably the last thing most of us would want to happen. However, both the cross of Christ and the crosses that we bare should not only compel us to welcome the nutter, the outcast, the marginalised person to sit beside us, they should also compel us to choose to sit beside that person if he boarded the bus before us.

Easier said than done, of course. But so was dying on a cross. Amen.