Are we foolish enough to get behind Jesus? That’s the question explored in this sermon inspired by reading Romans 12:9-end and Matthew 16:21-end, with some help from Cecil Collins. Some decisions are sensible. Following Jesus means learning a different kind of wisdom: the foolishness of love, hope and resurrection.
To go to Jerusalem these days sounds foolish, doesn’t it?
Because it seems dangerous.
Why go there when there’s a war on?
For Jesus to go to Jerusalem sounds foolish, doesn’t it?
To go to Jerusalem ”to suffer many things” sounds crazy.
To go to Jerusalem knowing there are people wanting to trap you –
the elders,
the chief priests
and the teachers of the law,
knowing it’s going to get you killed,
well that is the height of folly,
and Peter shouts STOP.
Stop being so crazy.
There must be another way.
The sensible way.
But this is the foolishness of Christ:
to go that way anyway.
Not because Jesus doesn’t know the danger.
He does.
This is no accident.
No wrong turning.
No unfortunate series of events.
Jesus sees the trap.
And walks towards it.
Peter sees the same danger –
and says, Don’t go.
Perhaps we understand Peter.
It is the sensible thing to say.
If you know there is trouble ahead, don’t walk into it.
If you know there is danger, keep away.
If you know someone is going to hurt you, find another way.
Those are the rules we live by.
And usually, they are sensible rules.
But Jesus seems to be living by another rule.
From that time on …
From the time after Peter had answered Jesus’s question:
“Who do you say that I am?”
From the time when Peter had recognised him as the Christ …
from that time on,
Jesus began to explain what being the Christ would mean.
And perhaps at the same time,
what following the Christ would mean.
Because this is where it gets even more foolish.
Jesus does not simply say:
This is the road I must take.
He says:
“Follow me”.
The foolishness of Christ
becomes the foolishness of discipleship.
Not just Jerusalem.
Not just the Cross.
Not just some great act of courage or sacrifice.
I have included on the readings sheet a drawing by Cecil Collins.
It is called The Resurrection.
Collins was fascinated by the figure of the fool,
the holy fool,
and by what he called the foolishness of Christ.
He wondered whether too much theologising about the Cross
had overshadowed the active joy of the Resurrection.
Because even,
perhaps especially,
in the face of darkness and despair,
there is something foolish about resurrection.
Peter could not yet see that.
When Jesus spoke about Jerusalem
Peter could only hear the cross.
and cannot yet hear the resurrection.
Suffering was all he could see ahead.
Because that is the grown up thing to see,
to see the risk, and then to avoid it.
Peter was being sensible.
And so were the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law.
They, like Peter, were all trying to avoid trouble,
and in their different ways,
trying to stop Jesus.
Cecil Collins calls these grown-ups,
these sensible ones,
“dull religious workers”.
Peter wants to save Jesus from trouble.
They want to stop Jesus causing trouble.
Peter was being the grown-up in the room.
The sensible one.
That’s why Peter said:
Never, Lord.
Don’t go.
And Jesus says to Peter,
“Get behind me, Satan”
I’ve always thought of that as a rebuke.
Now, I’m not so sure.
Perhaps it is.
Peter is standing in the way,
in front of him,
trying to stop him.
But perhaps there is something else there too.
“Get behind me”
“Not in front of me,
telling me which way to go.
Get behind me.
Following.”
Because almost immediately Jesus says:
“If any want to become my followers …”
Besides inviting us to follow his foolishness,
Jesus also insists that we have to become like little children.
“Truly I tell you,
unless you change and become like children,
you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18:3)
Even in the face of darkness and despair,
we have to become like children,
rather than those “dull religious workers”.
And now Paul helps us bring this home.
He helps us see what this foolish discipleship looks like
on a Tuesday afternoon.
And while Jesus says, Get behind me,
Paul says, in effect, And now follow him home.
And the first thing Paul says is:
love must be sincere.
Not performed.
Not polite on the outside while we are seething on the inside.
Sincere.
And then:
cling to what is good.
Because that is part of the sincerity of love.
When everything around us says,
“Look after yourself,”
cling to what is good.
When everything around us says,
“Give as good as you get,”
cling to what is good.
When everything around us says,
“You know what they deserve,”
cling to what is good.
And then Paul says:
Be joyful in hope,
patient in affliction,
faithful in prayer.
Even in the face of darkness and despair.
Which sounds foolish.
Because hope is easy when things are going well.
But joy in hope when things are going badly?
That is foolishness.
Patience when you are hurting?
Foolishness.
Prayer when you cannot see what prayer is changing?
Perhaps that is foolishness too.
And then:
Practise hospitality.
Open the door.
Make room.
Let somebody in.
Even somebody who isn’t quite like you.
And then Paul gets to something even harder.
Bless those who persecute you.
Really?
Bless them?
Not put them right?
Not get your own back?
Not tell everybody what they have done?
Not even curse them under your breath?
Bless them.
Because that goes completely against our natural inclination.
And that natural inclination is the very self Jesus asks us to deny.
The self that says:
Protect yourself.
Defend yourself.
Make sure you don’t look weak.
Don’t let them get away with it.
That is the self we are being asked to leave behind
as we get behind Jesus
and follow him.
And Paul knows how difficult that is.
So he goes on:
Do not repay anyone evil for evil.
There is the world’s rule.
And here is Jesus’ rule.
Don’t repay evil with evil.
And then Paul goes further:
If your enemy is hungry,
feed him.
If he is thirsty,
give him something to drink.
And perhaps that is where this really comes down to earth.
Because it is easy to say,
“I love my enemies.”
It is rather harder to feed one.
It is easy to pray for peace in the Middle East.
It is harder to make peace with the person who lives next door.
It is easy to believe in forgiveness.
It is harder when the person who needs forgiving is sitting across the room.
This is what foolishness looks like on a Tuesday afternoon.
Not doing something spectacular.
Doing something that makes no sense
according to the rules we normally live by.
Feeding someone who has hurt us.
Being kind to someone who has been unkind.
Making room for someone we would rather keep at a distance.
Refusing to take revenge.
Choosing love when anger would be so much easier.
And perhaps Paul is asking us:
What would happen
if we stopped asking,
“What do they deserve?”
and started asking,
“What does love require?”
Because that is the foolishness of Christ:
love that comes down from the mountain
and comes home,
love that doesn’t give what we deserve,
but love that gives us what we need,
and love that takes the road to Jerusalem
knowing exactly what waits there.
Grits and Grains 