Hilton Head Island, SC – December 3, 2017
The Chapel Without Walls
Matthew 22:34-40; Matthew 16:24-28
A Communion Meditation by John M. Miller
Text – Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” – Matthew 16:24 (RSV)
Jesus and the Extraordinary
Today is the first Sunday in Advent. Advent is always the beginning of the Christian calendar, the time in which we look forward expectantly to the coming of Jesus Christ into the world. The word Advent means “Coming.” Each Christmas season, Jesus comes once again into a world greatly in need of his appearance. The world seems to prefer our darkness to his light.
The overall title for the four sermons in Advent is Jesus and the Extraordinary. There were many extraordinary things about Jesus. During this Advent, we shall examine four extraordinary attitudes of Jesus: toward the self, toward the world, toward himself, and toward God.
Jesus expressed what appear to be totally contradictory ideas concerning every human individual. On the one hand, he proclaimed that every one of us is of infinite value to God, and that we should feel that way about ourselves as well. Of children he said, “Let the little ones come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” “You are the light of the world,” he told us. You and I: we are the light of the world. Of the least likely among us, Jesus said, “Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge me my generosity?” There is no one whom Jesus considered to be ultimately lost, no one who was “beyond the pale.” Everyone was infinitely precious to him.
A Pharisee who was an expert in the religious law once asked Jesus, “Which is the great commandment in the law?” Jesus answered, reciting from the Book of Deuteronomy (6:9), “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” And the second-greatest commandment is this, Jesus said: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18). Thus indirectly Jesus told us that we are obligated to love ourselves, and in exactly the same way we should love everyone around us. We cannot properly love others if we do not first love ourselves, and we cannot properly love ourselves unless we also love all others.
Nevertheless, in that enigmatic, first-century Middle Eastern way of his, Jesus also told us that we often invest too much value in ourselves. We are tempted to elevate self over everyone else and everything else. In the famous incident at Caesarea Philippi, Jesus said to the disciples, “If any man would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Mt. 16:24-25).
Those who strive to follow Jesus must often guide themselves to give up themselves on behalf of others. They must do what they do not want to do, go where they do not want to go, say what they do not want to say. Self-denial is an unavoidable aspect of the Christian life. We cannot always do what pleases us. Many times we must do what pleases others, and most of all, what pleases God, even if it greatly displeases us. To turn the other cheek and to walk the extra mile and to give to those who ask things of us is to deny ourselves on behalf of others and of God.
When Jesus said that we must “take up our cross” if we truly want to follow him, what did he mean by that? The cross was an ever-present and terrifying reality in first-century Judea. By means of it the Romans executed those they considered to be enemies of the state. When Jesus was with the disciples at the place called the Banias, near the town of Caesarea Philippi, it was only a few months before Jesus himself was to die on a cross. Was he anticipating his own horrible death when he made that heavy observation to his closest followers? Could they save themselves only by denying themselves? In order to stay connected to Jesus, did Jesus have to disconnect himself from them? What, exactly, did Jesus mean by these enigmatic words?
It is an inevitable tendency of every living human being to guard the self at all costs. How can we go on living if we do not watch out for ourselves? Without self-preservation, there is no self, and without the self, we can do nothing for anyone, least of all for God!
But what is our primary goal in life, our fundamental purpose? Should we live for ourselves, or should we live for God and our fellow human beings? It isn’t a question of either/or: either we do the one, or we do the other. We must do both. But if we want to be genuinely committed Christians, we must often deny ourselves in order to follow God, even as we must also conserve ourselves in order to accomplish our discipleship. That is an extraordinary insight. The Christian life is a constant test of give-and-take, retrieve and receive, self-denial and self-protection. However, our basic inclination is much more toward self-preservation than it is toward self-abnegation.
Some of us are old enough to remember William Bendix and the by-now ancient radio show, The Life of Riley. Even many who don’t remember the program know that “the life of Riley” is supposed to connote a life of pleasure and ease and constant happiness. But those of us sufficiently long-of-tooth can recall Riley frequently saying of the many obstacles which befell the loveable character of our youthful imaginations, “What a revoltin’ development this is!”
We are imperfect beings. What a revolting development this is! If God had just decided to make us flawless, we would always manage to keep the self in its proper place. But sadly it doesn’t work out that way. Thus every day we are again faced with choices: Do I do for God and others today, or do I do for myself? And if I try to do the right for everyone --- self, others, and God ---, how do I do it? What is the right equation, the proper percentage, the correct quota?
According to the Fourth Gospel, when Jesus was at the Last Supper with his disciples, he did not institute the sacrament of holy communion, or “the eucharist” as it is called in some ecclesiastical traditions. There is nothing said in John about the significance of bread and wine, as there is in the first three Gospels. But there is something in the Last Supper in John that isn’t said in the first three Gospels. In John, Jesus said, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything I have heard from my Father” (John 15:12-15 – NRSV).
I believe Jesus sensed that within hours of that last meal with his disciples he would be crucified. I further believe he also sensed that those disciples, whom he now called “friends,” would flee for their lives rather than stand beside him to the bitter end, whatever that might entail. He knew they would save themselves rather than to lose themselves in what would appear to be an utterly lost cause. It is the way of the self; it is the way of the world.
Nevertheless, in that momentous meal, Jesus told them he loved them, and he called them friends. Perceiving what was coming, Jesus still did that. Greater love has no one than that.
In the sacrament of communion, Jesus communicates to us that we, our very selves, are welcomed into the eternal family of God. None is excluded; all are invited in. That is extraordinary. Jesus knows we will fail him, and He knows we will fail God, yet he still calls us friends. If that is so, what a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and griefs to bear. It is inexpressibly extraordinary. And it is all coming once again, this Advent.