Standing Under the Scriptures
September 20 , 2009

Dear Fellow Voyagers,

Our readings for this Sunday are:

James 3.16-4.6: Without, this time, considering faith versus works, the Letter exhorts against dissension and its root in selfish ambition.

Mark 9,30-37: Jesus a second time predicts his passion, death, and resurrection and exhorts his disciples to follow him in servanthood.

Last Sunday we considered our first reading, from the Letter of James, only in summary. But our second reading, on account of the watershed position it occupies both in Mark’s Gospel and in Christian faith, we went into in some depth.

Our first reading, James 2.1-18, seemed almost to say that since “faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead,” it is by our works rather our faith that we are justified. But in this case it would stand diametrically opposed to what Paul insists on in the Galatians passage that we considered just previously:

“If we, or an angel from heaven, should preach to you a gospel contrary to that which we preached to you, let him be anathema.”

And this gospel was that faith in Christ alone, and not any works of the law, justifies us.

In resolving this apparent contradiction we contented ourselves with citing the Heidelberg Catechism, a Luther-Reform formulation of the latter 16th century (as Karl Barth did in concluding his magnificent account of Paul’s concept of justification by faith in Volume 4, part 1 of his Church Dogmatics).

60 Q. How are you righteous before God?

A. Only by true faith in Jesus Christ...

64. Q. Does this teaching not make people careless and wicked?

A. No, it is impossible that those grafted into Christ by true faith should not bring forth fruits of thankfulness.

We approached our second reading, Mark 8.27-38, not only as having a watershed position but also as being given new depth when seen in the light of its historical context---at any rate the context that I ascribe to it.

This reading constitutes a watershed in that what has taken place previously in Mark’s Gospel can be seen as leading up to it, and what takes place subsequently as following from it. It is also decisive for us. As we saw, it is characterized by surprising turns. It begins with Peter’s perception and his confession, for the first time, of Jesus as the Messiah. This comes out of Jesus’ apparently casual question to the disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” The disciples answer, casually enough: John the Baptist, Elijah, or one of the prophets, as if in Jesus such a notable had been restored to life. But then Jesus turns the question directly on them (and on us), as on a deer transfixed by headlights: “But who to you say that I am?” And in this moment Peter is inspired to articulate what previously he had grasped only dimly if at all: “You are the Messiah.” (In Matthew’s parallel account Jesus responds, “Blessed are you, Simon bar Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you but my Father in heaven.”) And Peter’s confession tells us that, similarly, we can arrive at this answer to Jesus’ question not by rational calculation or effort of will but only as given by grace. At the same time, not just our faith but our whole existence and its meaning are determined by how we answer it.

Jesus then charges the disciples to tell no one about him. We considered this another instance of what is termed the messianic secret, which we had discussed at length before. Next, he goes on to predict his passion, death, and resurrection: “The Son of man must suffer many things, and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” And Peter, who just previously has discerned Jesus as the Messiah, finds this too much to take. Evidently it is an aspect of messiahship that he has not reckoned with, thinking still, as in the prevailing tradition, of a Davidic king who will deliver Israel from its oppressors, currently the Romans. (It does however accord with the nature of the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53.) And out of concern that Jesus himself is misunderstanding messiahship, he rebukes him (saying in Matthew’s parallel, “God forbid, Lord. This shall never happen to you.”) But in further twist of the tale, Jesus rebukes him: “Get behind me, Satan. For you are not on the side of God but of men.” And this rebuke, however stinging, is warranted. For in effect Peter is telling Jesus how to be the Messiah. And thereby he is cutting the ground, the ground of his salvation that is, out from under his own feet. For he is leaving himself with only himself, in his humanity, to look to.

Finally, Jesus draws the implications of his messiahship for his followers: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” That is to say, the Messiah’s disciple must follow in the Messiah’s way. He goes on to state the underlying truths which, while completely contrary to the world’s view (and thus to be regarded as authentically from Jesus) are nevertheless palpably true:

For whoever would save his life will lose it. And whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?’ For whoever is ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him will the Son of man also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.

Admittedly, all this seems rather heavy. Do we really want to go through the loss of our lives in order to gain them? Would it not be better just to go on as we are? It is in this connection that a knowledge of the historical context, or of the historical context as I have conceived it, comes into play. The scholarly consensus is that Mark’s gospel, consisting of traditions that had been preserved only orally up to then, was written down in the latter 60s of the first century, in Rome. This was in the wake of the first substantial persecution of Christians, that of the Emperor Nero, who to divert from himself the blame for the fire which in 64 consumed much of Rome, rounded up a number of Christians and had them publicly burned alive. My thought as I explained it in the class, is that this terrible event not only prompted the writing down of the oral traditions. It also raised the question of how to cope with it, psychologically and spiritually. For what account of it could the Christians give themselves? How in the light of it could they regard themselves as other than God-forsaken? Mark’s Gospel in general, and this passage in particular, can be regarded as addressed to this situation. For in effect it says that what has happened is not contrary to but rather in accord with what the followers of Jesus can expect. Just as he suffered and was killed, so they are liable to suffering and death. But it says also that this is not the end of the story, quite the contrary. For as Jesus following his crucifixion rose from the dead, so by losing their lives they will gain them. Further, they are not to be ashamed of their belief, however much the Roman world may mock it. For in that case, when Jesus comes again in his glory, instead of bringing them to participate in it, he will be ashamed of them.

And this message, conveyed by Mark’s and the other Gospels, the early Christians took to heart. For Nero’s persecution was not an isolated instance. Others, both more massive and more intentional, succeeded it down to the Edict of Toleration issued in 311. In the face of them thousands of Christians underwent horrible tortures and death rather than renounce their faith. And it was thanks to them, the martyrs of the early Church, that instead of being wiped out by the utmost efforts which the Roman state out of an inner insecurity directed against it, that Church in the end triumphed over it.

We may never undergo persecution of this sort, at least as individuals (although Christians in some other parts of the world undergo it today, and even here congregations seeking to be true to their faith have been subjected to intensive litigation). But we may still go through difficult times, in which hope seems to be lost, in which we feel truly God-forsaken. And in this passage, as seen in its historical context, we have the assurance that even then our faith is not in vain, that through the death and life of his Son God has shown us as he showed the early Christians that he is with us also and more in such times and that in the end he will likewise raise us to life.

Faithfully, Fr. Ted