The
Preacher’s Study
Second Sunday of Lent, Year B
John W.B. Hill
Genesis 17: 1-7,
15-16;
Psalm 22: 23-31 (BCP/BAS
22: 22-30);
Romans 4: 13-25;
Mark 8: 31-38 or Mark
9: 2-9.
In the first reading last Sunday we heard about the covenant God made with
every living creature; this Sunday we hear about the covenant God made with
Abram and Sarai.
According to Elie Wiesel, ‘God made man because he loves stories.’ On the strength of these readings from
Genesis, we might add that God made human beings because God loves being in
committed covenant partnerships. The
covenant partnership with Abram and Sarai is one through which “All the ends of
the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord” (Psalm 22:27).
And now the Lord extends this covenant partnership to all who accept
baptism, and for the same purpose: that we who “share the faith of
Abraham...the father of us all” (Romans
4:16) may share the awesome life-work of revealing to the world its true
destiny.
When Abram is told of this awesome burden of meaning that his life will
now bear, he falls on his face before God.
It is too much. But God changes
the names of Abram and Sarai, for God knows them better than they know themselves;
God knows why he created them! In the
ancient Church (and even sometimes today) the gift of baptism included the gift
of a new name, for God knows who and what we are better than we know ourselves.
Likewise, the name ‘Jesus’ (‘Yeshua’), given to him when he was
circumcised as an inheritor of the promise to Abraham and Sarah, means ‘Yahweh
saves’. But exactly how will this
‘Yeshua’ be the agent of God’s salvation?
Much like our own day, first century Judea (and therefore Galilee, too)
was divided between the rich and the poor, and in great danger of descending
into violence and destruction. The
prophet from Nazareth mounted the stage in this agonised moment of Israel’s
history, announcing that the kingdom of God was at hand, and performing
wonderful signs of God’s merciful presence, but he was met with the desperate
hopelessness of the poor and the callous resistance of the tradition of the
elders.
This Sunday’s gospel text (whichever one is chosen — the end of chapter
8, or the beginning of chapter 9) is a revealing glimpse into the turmoil in
which Jesus found himself, facing the seeming futility of his mission.
In chapter 7, he had simply walked away from his Galilean endeavours and
left the country; by the time he returned, he had apparently faced up to the
terrible reality that “the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be
rejected...and be killed, and after three days rise again” (the first option for the gospel reading). This seems to have been the great turning
point in his eager response to God’s call, for it was immediately after this
that he experienced the most profound affirmation, being “transfigured before
[his disciples]...his clothes dazzling white...”, and knowing the companionship
and support of Moses and Elijah (the
second option for the gospel reading).
What then is the meaning of this claim that he ‘must undergo great suffering...’?
What is this necessity? However we interpret it, we must not resort
to theories of divine complicity; we must find our answers within the story
itself. The only complicity on God’s
part was sharing his Beloved with us even though the risks were so immense.
Jesus’ mission thus far has met more obstruction than anything else; now
he accepts that the resistance and violence he faces can only be overcome by
enduring and absorbing the violence as an innocent victim — by a self-sacrifice
that exposes the violence in all its futility and awaits God’s transcending
creativity.
That was something Abraham had learned, in some small way: “when he
considered the barrenness of Sarah’s womb,” he believed in the God “who gives
life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist” (Romans 4: 19, 17). Abraham could never have imagined how this
kind of faith would one day triumph over all the powers of darkness, but it was
enough that he trusted God, for it is the same God who triumphed supremely
through the humble obedience of Jesus.
But this final and ultimate victory must be won again and again, through
the same humble obedience of his disciples.
His once-for-all-time triumph over evil does not magically transport us
into a parallel universe of peace and security.
For the world is still blind to what God has done in Christ, blinded by
Satan who still tempts us to hope that there is a better way, just as Peter tempted
Jesus. Only the continuing faithful
witness of Jesus’ disciples can break the spell. “If any want to become my
followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”
An African-American spiritual perfectly captures the spirit of this
faithful discipleship:
I tol’
Jesus it would be all right
if he
change my name, change my name
Jesus
tol’ me I would have to live humble
if he
change my name, change my name
Jesus
tol’ me that the world would be ‘gainst me
if he
change my name, change my name
But I
tol’ Jesus it would be all right
if he
change my name, change my name
John
W. B. Hill is an Anglican presbyter living in Toronto, Canada. He is a Council
member of APLM, chair of Liturgy Canada, and author of one of the first
Anglican sources for catechumenal practice.
“Clothed in Light, Abraham and Sarah,” by Sax Berlin,
available at http://www.whitecourtart.com/sax-berlin/clothed-light-abraham-and-sarah
"Transfiguration," by Lewis Bowman, available at https://fineartamerica.com/featured/transfiguration-lewis-bowman.html
No comments:
Post a Comment