Any Questions?

Mark 9:30-37

Does anyone have any questions?

You know when the teacher asks that, no one ever does. The question seems to catch us off guard, without anything to say, let alone ask.

Whether or not Jesus confronted his disciples with that particular teaching tool, the Gospel story portrays a group of disciples without any questions to ask.  The writer tells us that they were afraid to ask, and it seems they have a few things to be afraid of. 

First, there’s Jesus.  Just before this conversation, Peter’s feedback earned him the title of “Satan,” from none other than Jesus himself.  But Peter wasn’t asking Jesus any questions, instead he’s trying to correct the teachings Jesus is offering, hence Jesus’ annoyance.

They might be afraid of each other.  After all, while on the road the disciples are engaged in a “Who is the Best Disciple?” contest.  You’re not going to win that by demonstrating ignorance, so who would be the one to ask the first question? 

But I think what really scares all the questions away is a fear of actually hearing the answers.  Jesus tells them that he will be betrayed, that he will be killed, will die and will, after three days, rise again.  What could he possibly mean?  He couldn’t mean that he will be betrayed, killed, die and rise to life again, could he?  And if these words do mean exactly what they say, what does that mean for those who are following Jesus?  Follow him where, exactly?  To death?  Resurrection?  Like any of that is going to happen.

The disciples would rather not know.  Don’t think about it.  Go back to what is familiar–rivalries and competitions.

The disciples aren’t doing a very good job of following Jesus, but even now they have an advantage over us, his current disciples.  For them, traveling from town to town, going where Jesus decides, it is impossible to forget that they are supposed to be following, that they are supposed to be going somewhere.  We come to church, watch and listen to the words we’ve heard so many times before, making it very hard to remember that we’re supposed to be going anywhere at all.  Journey?  What journey?

To make matters worse, while we’ve been sitting here, Christians over the centuries, we’ve had time to think.  In our thinking we’ve come up with explanations, theories of why Jesus did what he did or said what he said.  Instead of following Jesus anywhere, we work on understanding.  Why did Jesus die?  Well, we’ve got some explanations.  We call them Doctrine, this one being the atonement.  It can go something like this:  God needed a sacrifice.  Jesus is the perfect sacrifice because  he’s God, too, so God needed Jesus to die or God could never forgive any of us.  Now, just understand this theory, and you’ve got faith.

Questions?

Listening, even understanding, they aren’t the same as believing.  Faith needs more.  If any of this is to matter to our lives, we have to be part of the experience.  There is a way to do that.  Jesus answered that question.  Following him, just as the disciples didn’t want to do, all the way to the cross.  

Before we get too stressed out, we might want to understand something of what Jesus means here.  The cross is certainly a burden, and a sacrifice, but it isn’t just any burden or sacrifice.  The cross is where the ways of the Gospel conflict with the ways of the world.  In that conflict the choice we make is what matters.  

Sometimes the choice is easy–someone needs us and we need to go.  Plans may be changed, inconveniences may be everywhere, but the choice of what needs to be done is obvious.  Sometimes we deceive ourselves, pretending, as the disciples did, that we’re doing something holy when we’re really just doing what is easiest.  That Best Disciple Contest sounds holy–it’s a good thing to aspire to be the best, right?  But the fact that Jesus has to explain to them what it means to be the best disciple shows that the contest really has nothing to do with Jesus and everything to do with disciples’ egos.  We do that too, maybe by refusing to speak up when things are not right because speaking would cause trouble and attract attention.  Better to suffer in silence, that’s what Jesus would want, right?  Here, like the disciples, we’ve gotten off the path.

What the path requires is courage, to act as if these words of the Gospel really do bring life.  We don’t know yet–it’s walking by faith.  In the eyes of the world, the cross is that loud mistake–foolishly and pointlessly claiming that our lives matter, that we could make a difference.  This loud mistake is the one that defines us as God’s people, and gives us life.  For here we discover grace–going beyond our internal barriers to become more than we are.

That’s an outline of the Gospel.  It occurs to me that one way to enter in is to take the option the original twelve avoided.  What if we ask questions?  Not theoretical questions of how things work or why, but questions of experience–where or how God is present, or what God’s call and inspiration might be.  These aren’t questions of speculation, they are questions of experience.  We find the answers on the way in inspiration and forgiveness and all the reality that makes up Christ’s promise of abundant life.  Just ask and follow.