Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary
The gospel lection this week, Mk 8:31-38, falls into two sections. First, verses 31-33 bring to a head questions about Jesus’ identity and mission that have been intensifying since the middle of Mark’s first chapter. Verses 34-38 then spell out the costs of discipleship, reframed now by Jesus’ confrontation with Peter, bringing into sharp focus his daunting messianic mission.
Preachers familiar with Mark’s gospel already realize how prominent the questions of Jesus’ identity and mission are for Mark, but others (and their listeners) may not be alert to this dynamic. A sermon might begin with a series of key question raised in Mark, read by different voices. The divine commendation at Jesus’ baptism (“You are my son … in you I am well pleased” 1:11) is heard only by Jesus. The first to publicly identify Jesus in any way is an unclean spirit (1:24) crying, “I know who you are, the Holy One of God!” Jesus cast out this devious witness, and the crowd is amazed: “What is this? Even unclean spirits obey him!” (1:27). In ch 2, Jesus forgives the sins of a paralyzed man before healing him. This agitates the scribes: “Why does he speak this way? Who can forgive sins but God alone??” (2:7) Next, Jesus, about to heal a man on a Sabbath, asks the onlooking Pharisees whether it is “lawful to do good or to do evil, to save life or kill” on the Sabbath day (3:4). Enraged by this challenge to their authority, the Pharisees meet with a band of Herodians and begin plotting Jesus’ destruction (3:6). When Jesus calms a storm on the Sea of Galilee, his trembling disciples whisper, “Who is this, that even the sea obeys him?” (4:48). In his home town, Jesus is met with such skepticism that he can heal but a few. He is “amazed at their unbelief” (6:2-6). Finally (8:29a) Jesus raises the question of his identity with his disciples, asking, “Who do you say that I am?” Peter replies, “You are the Messiah” (v 29b). Yet, it soon becomes clear that Peter is assuming, as did many, that the Messiah will claim political and military dominance, liberating Israel from Rome’s grip.
Jesus immediately counters such notions. He will suffer. He will be rejected and put to death, “and after three days rise again” (8:31). This must have triggered sheer, cold terror in the disciples. A disciple pledged to emulate his master. Suffering and grim death?? This could not be! What power could defeat their Master? Little wonder that Peter hastily draws Jesus aside and begins setting him straight. But Jesus turns sharply on Peter, now rebuking him; Mark uses the same verb for rebukes of demons. “Get behind me, Satan,” Jesus commands, as if seeing behind Peter his diabolical desert adversary using Peter as a tool to derail the oncoming apocalyptic battle. Jesus turns to teach the crowd. Following him, he tells them, will mean shouldering the cross of the condemned. What profit is there in gaining the world, yet losing life? Whoever seeks to preserve their life will lose it. Only when we stop trying to secure our lives, and all we think life owes us, shall we find true life.
Middle-class Western Christians do not, on the whole, experience discipleship as dangerously risky. Some of us have the vague feeling it should be harder than it is, so we give up sweets or alcohol or meat for Lent. But these “hardships” miss the point. What if the real problem is that, in our distracted lives, we have lost sight of Jesus? Might Lent be a season in which to go in search of our Master’s footsteps? Our search may take us to our community’s winter homeless shelter, in the role of volunteer host. It may mean visiting the incarcerated, sensing the weight of despair when doors clang shut behind you and deadbolts lock. Our friends may find these choices baffling. “It’s quite admirable, what you’re doing,” they say, “but what do you gain?” A good question: what do we gain? Perhaps a renewed sense that Jesus walks just ahead of us. We gain nothing less than life itself.
Insights into Biblical Greek Grammar and Syntax 