This Week: Proper 17A
Gospel: Matthew 16:21-28
When we have a big story to wrestle with, I often violate a major preaching rule: preach only one theme.
People often talk about needing the homily to be simple or easy. The unwritten rules of Jesus and the gospel are this, of course. People will write me emails objecting to the idea that theology is complex or that scripture is difficult. They claim that the point has to be easy to find.
If I were being a jerk, I’d ask where they find this rule in scripture, but that’s not really the point. They believe it. That’s the point.
We think that people want simple. But really what we want is to understand. And simplicity sounds necessary.
The problem with themes
They aren’t always consistent. Or obvious. And really, how do we square the idea that Jesus has a single theme and such varied concepts in his teaching?
Settling on a single theme (which I often do, by the way) intends to be easier for people. But it isn’t always. And has a particular winnowing effect. It can make us think this narrow experience is the definitive one.
Meanwhile, what we have here is a story. A story filled with different people who live full lives of love and loss and conviction and disappointment and all of the things. And when we see them, we are catching them in a moment. For the Canaanite woman, it is a moment of anguish and desperation. And in that moment, we catch Jesus changing his mind.
The beauty of story is that it often plays with multiple themes at once, inviting us into clever tangles and bits of excitement. Sometimes to learn a particular thing from it. And sometimes to be pushed out of the particular thing we are thinking about.
Dealing with Part 2
All of this is preamble to the problem in this text. Namely, that we must decide whether to focus on this passage alone or include its first half.
Part one was used for Proper 16. Now we have what happens second.
Of course, settling on the theme of following Jesus and the way of the cross is plenty for one Sunday. So is dealing with whether Jesus is calling Peter Satan or speaking to the Satan through Peter. Or if it’s all just a bit of overreaction.
[Which depends on whether you invest in the supernatural or refuse to invest in the supernatural—of which, I have to admit, I don’t feel inclined to really care about either extreme here.]
In short, there is plenty here to settle on. And I don’t begrudge anyone for doing that.
The other option is to treat it all as one. Or, better yet, part of a bigger story. A story in which Jesus does amazing things; and messes with people’s expectations. For him and for the Messiah. There really is a lot going on here.
Cross-carrying as messianic
This only makes sense when we start with the idea of Jesus being Messiah. Precisely because he was flipping the script. Power is weak and weakness is power.
But if we spent last week talking about Jesus as the Messiah and this week talking about cross-carrying, are we being honest and insightful? Or are we merely bifurcating the greater theme? The attempts to make it easy for people may ensure that people receive the paradox as singular truths—without the challenge of their mutual relationship.
Jesus is the liberator who dies. And we show the grace of God by dying, too.
For a people who love to talk about God’s power and might, we often do so at the expense of grace, intimacy, hope, communion, love. The stuff culture calls weak.
The stuff at the heart of discipleship.