Christ Complete
Pentecost 17, Proper 20
Fr. Tim Nunez
One of the major skills all students must develop as best they can is reading comprehension. It starts early with book reports, then later on you have to read a novel and write a more interpretive paper on it. We used to call that looking for the “deep hidden meaning” – or DHM – a game of sorts to figure out what the author was trying to get across, or at least what the teacher thought the author was trying to get across.
That art of interpretation can be difficult and more so when applied to life.
Jesus is working his way from the Decapolis back into the heart of Galilee to Capernaum. Now he is teaching the disciples in a direct and private way, and they are just not getting it.
We should have a good deal of sympathy if not empathy for them. This isn’t a story they are reading. It isn’t a story for which they know the ending. We have the advantage of knowing and living that story ever since. It is infused into our liturgy and music, into our architecture. We have centuries of great thinkers, including those who are active today. Aren’t we here right now to plumb the depths of understanding as much as we like? We certainly know enough to see clearly that Jesus is talking about himself.
But in that moment, how were they to know?
They are used to Jesus teaching them in parables, which require them to think carefully not only about the story as a whole but each piece that gets dropped like a pear into their hands that they must examine. The truth and meaning emerge deeper and far beyond what they see on the surface. The more they look, the deeper it gets.
Now, they are trying to ponder the potential metaphors in what Jesus has said to them. It’s kind of like what we used to call the “DHM” or “deep hidden meaning” in a novel.
How are they to identify these pieces, these pearls? The “Son of Man” could refer to just about anyone, it’s a phrase that can simply mean descendant of the first man, Adam, or human, as it does in Ezekiel chapter 2 where God repeatedly calls Ezekiel “son of man.” Or it could refer to the Son of Man as described in Daniel 7:13.
Handing him over or betraying him to human hands is one thing, but what can it mean to “kill” him and that three days later he will “rise”? If that’s a metaphor, how does it tie to the seed that gets buried, or the seeds that were scattered? Are we talking about the movement getting suppressed but overcoming that?
But Jesus isn’t giving them a metaphor. He is speaking quite literally. He is himself at once a son of man who is fully human and the Son of Man who has come from the Ancient of Days. His betrayal will be real and one of the 12 will be its means, with a kiss. Almost all the rest of them will melt away at least for a time, with Peter’s denial three times acutely awful. Jesus’ death will be real and so deeply painful that, of the 12, only John will witness it. His Resurrection will be astounding and universe-altering.
How are they to absorb all of that? Remember, these guys aren’t trained for this. They are fishermen and tax collectors. They might have heard the phrase “son of man” before but could they cite it chapter and verse? Doubtful.
I get the feeling they nodded and just kept walking, eventually arguing about which of them was the greatest, which illustrates how badly they have missed the obvious, ultimate example of servant leadership in the literal description Jesus gave them. The Greek word for arguing means literally throwing it back and forth like a ball. There is a bit of sport in it.
But Jesus’ greatness is not going to lead them to a victory as humanity would define victory. He’s not going to win land, or money, or possessions. He’s going to overthrow death and the grave. To illustrate the simple clarity, he pulls a child into their midst. A child. How does that help?
We accept children as they are, and they receive the world in a pure way that draws us in with them. Jesus wants us to never lose that child-like acceptance, that childlike wonder even as the different points of reality, of life, of adulthood, of achievement and loss, of joy and pain, of life and aging and death all feed into our story, that we remember that first and foremost we belong in His story. We find meaning in His story. We find purpose in His story. We find life in His story.
Do you want to know why I insist on preaching a children’s sermon? First, it is to remind them that they are profoundly important. They really matter. They are central to the life of this church and to the life of the Body of Christ as a whole. And when they come up here, you come with them. Your hearts open with theirs; your minds absorb with theirs.
And in that we all approach the mind of God.
James draws a sharp distinction between human wisdom and Godly wisdom. Human wisdom is built of our senses and calculates according to our human needs. It is natural, but it is inherently corrupted by our appetites, desires and natural drive towards material success, from self-preservation to control and power.
True wisdom seeks and follows the mind of God. It is the difference between a mindset focused on the next 20-80 years and one focused on all eternity. Cravings and covetousness are rooted in today and tomorrow. Christ calls us to raise our eyes. I know we bow our heads to pray, but when we want to praise God we lift our eyes and hands, we look to the heavens as a metaphor for heaven, not because God is directionally above us.
And so we must look at the work Jesus did on the cross in that light – for its gritty, factual reality in time and place, and with our eyes raised to the work it has begun in us and in the world. It is clearly begun and it is clearly not finished.
Now look at Christ in yourself, also begun, also unfinished. Look at the gritty factual reality of your own time and palace, and contemplate it with your eyes raised to the one who receives you as His child. That is where you will find your own deep hidden meaning and your own eternal purpose.
AMEN